It Happened One Summer (It Happened One Summer 1)

Piper went still on the dance floor, a frown marring her forehead, and, as if she’d finally sensed his presence, turned to look directly at him. And when her face transformed with pure joy and she waved enthusiastically, Brendan knew he loved her.

God knew, it had happened fast, but he’d been incapable of putting the brakes on.

Not when she was the destination.

His mouth turned dry, but he managed to wave back.

This wasn’t any emotion he’d experienced before. Not like the simple companionship of his marriage. Not like the love/hate bond he had with the ocean. What he felt for Piper turned him into a young man in the throes of his first infatuation, while also calling on the deepest roots of his maturity. In other words, to keep this woman, he’d step up and do whatever it took, but his fucking heart would be racing the whole time.

He could put every ounce of his effort into keeping Piper, and she still might leave. Could dance off into the sunset at a moment’s notice and go back to her extravagant life, leaving him reeling. And that terrified him the most.

But Brendan determinedly set aside those dark thoughts. Because she was coming toward him now, all flushed from liquor and dancing, and he simply opened his arms, trusting she’d walk straight into them. His eyes closed automatically when she did, his mouth tracing her hairline, planting kisses. Christ, she fit against him in a way that made him feel protective, ready to act as her shield, while also making him hard, hungry.

“You’re here,” she murmured happily, going up on her toes to sniff his neck.

“Of course I’m here, baby.”

“Sanders is okay? The crew made it back?”

“Sanders is home,” he burred against her ear, warmed by her worry for his men. “The rest of them, too. They reached the harbor just a little while ago.”

“I’m so glad.” She sent an accusatory look over her shoulder. “These unscrupulous local women made me drunk.”

“I can see that.” His lips twitched, his hand rubbing circles in the center of her back. “You want to dance some more, or can I bring you home?”

“Where is home?”

“With me.”

“Mmmm.” She looked up at him through one eye. “I don’t have my wits about me, Brendan. You can’t use anything I say tonight against me. It’s all a wash.”

“Okay, I promise.”

“Good, because I missed you. Again.” She kissed his chin, worked her way around to his ear, whined against it in a way that made his cock stiffen. “This morning with you was the best, best, best sex of my life.”

She said it right as the music cut out.

Everyone at the bar heard it.

A couple of men saluted Brendan with their pints, but thankfully drunk Piper was none the wiser about her public confession. And hell, having Piper effectively tell everyone in Westport they were sleeping together—and that so far he’d been great at it—was one way to appease his jealousy.

The music started again, but she didn’t seem compelled to do anything but stand there and hug him, which suited him down to the ground. “Here I am, once again, in the recharging station!” Piper sang, giggling to herself. “I like it here. It’s so warm. You’re a big hard teddy bear from the sea. Like tuna from the sea, but with a bear.”

Brendan’s laugh turned heads. “I like drunk Piper.”

“You should. I have zero inhibitions right now.” She smelled his neck again, kissed it once, twice. “Or whatever number is less than zero.”

He ran a hand down her hair. “All I’m doing to you tonight is putting you in bed.”

“Ooh, do I get to sleep in the recharging station?”

His heart was living in his throat. “Yeah, honey. You can sleep in it every night.”

She sighed contentedly.

“On my way over, I saw Hannah walking home and stopped off to grab you an overnight bag.”

“That was nice of you.” In an instant, her expression went from swoony to worried. “But Brendan, what if I’m potpie?”

“What?”

“You took a bite of me, and even if you decide you don’t really like me, you’re going to be noble and eat the whole thing. You can’t do anything halfway. It’s all or nothing. If I’m potpie, you have to tell me. You can’t just keep eating and eating and . . . I’m drunker than I thought.”

Yeah, she might be drunk, but her worry was genuine. Her forlorn tone of voice made that obvious, and it troubled him. Not because there was even a chance it might be valid—she was a woman, not a fucking pie. Her worry bothered him because she didn’t feel secure. Yet. And he needed to find a way to fix it.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

“Okay. Let me just make sure Opal has a ride.”

Piper trotted off to confer with a group of woman, hugging each of them multiple times before making her way back to his side. Brendan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the bar. He’d parked his truck near the entrance, and he unlocked it now, boosting Piper into the passenger side and buckling her in. When he climbed into the driver’s side, her head was lolling on the seat, and she was studying him. “We’re going to talk about what you said. In the morning. When you’re clearheaded and you’ll remember what I say back.”