It Happened One Summer (It Happened One Summer 1)

He half grinned. “Okay.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “What is this extra cockiness you have going on?”

Brendan poured her a cup of coffee, preparing it exactly how she liked it. “You might have told me last night in the bar that I was the best, best, best sex of your life.”

Heat climbed her cheeks. “I said ‘best’ three times, hmm?”

After handing her the coffee, he leaned back against the counter and crossed his ankles. “You sure did.”

She hid her wan smile in a sip of coffee. “I think I might have also become a professional beauty consultant last night. One who gets paid in drinks.” More and more memories knitted together. “And, oh God, I volunteered to throw a party on Labor Day at the bar.”

“Whoops.”

“I can’t wait to tell Hannah.” She cupped her hands around the mug, enjoying the warmth. Not just from the drink itself, but from Brendan’s kitchen. The way he looked at her with affection, not a rush in the world to move or hurry. When had she started liking those things? The silence between them didn’t need to be filled, but she was thinking too much, so she did it anyway. “Who would buy you cologne?”

His brow arched. “You mean the one in my cabinet? Birthday gift from Sanders. His wife picked it out. Obviously. He didn’t even know what it was until I opened it—and the guys, they ragged on him for months. I probably just keep it because it makes me laugh.”

“You’re so close with them. Your crew.”

“Have to be. Our lives—” He cut himself off, taking an abrupt sip of coffee.

“Are in one another’s hands?” When she said it, the memory of her crying in his bed last night came rolling back in on a tide. This was probably it, then. No more smoke screens or hiding or flirting her way to safety with this man. Even if she couldn’t recall every single second of last night, she could feel that the layers had been stripped away. By his hands. His words. His presence.

“Anyway, it’s not the scent I would pick for you.”

Interest lit his expression. “What would you pick?”

“Nothing. You already have the ocean on your skin. And it’s not like you to embellish what’s already working.” Something heated in his eyes at her words. At the proof she’d been cataloguing his finer details? “But if I had to pick a scent . . . something, like, rainy and mossy. To remind me of your garden. How earthy you are. How substantial.” Her attention meandered down the line of black hair disappearing into his briefs. “How male.”

His chest rose and fell on a shudder. “You’re really messing up my plans for the morning, Piper.”

“What were your plans?”

“To take you out on the Della Ray.”

The smile blasted across her face. “What? Are you serious?”

“Uh-huh. Being out on the water is good for talking.”

“Oh, right.” She rocked back on her heels, her initial excitement tempered by the reminder that the reckoning had arrived. “Talking points.”

“That’s right.” He raked her with a blistering look that turned her nipples to tingling peaks. “Now I just want to take you back to bed, though.”

Her breathing went shallow. “Can’t we do both?”

His regret was obvious when he shook his head. “Next time I fuck you, I want to be sure you’re not going to pull away from me afterward.”

“And I can’t escape on a boat?”

“That might have crossed my mind.”

She huffed a laugh. He was really serious about her. And she’d gone home with him last night knowing it. As natural as could be, like she did it all the time. That’s how it felt being collected by Brendan and sleeping in his arms. Expected. Inevitable.

Damn him.

There was a chance she might be serious about Brendan, too.

How had this happened?

“Just so we’re clear,” she said, setting down her coffee mug. “You are withholding sex.”

“No, I’m not.” His jaw flexed. “I’ll fuck you facedown over that counter, Piper. If sex is all you want, I’ll give it to you. But I want more.” His voice brooked no nonsense. “You do, too, or you wouldn’t have come here in the middle of a storm and slept in my bed. Don’t ever do that again, by the way. I need to know you’ll be safe when I’m not here.”

“I’m a strong runner!”

He gave a dubious grunt.

“Fine,” she said, voice irregular. “We’ll talk!”

“Good. Whenever you’re ready.”

Lost in a sea of emotional vulnerability, she utilized her best physical weapon, stripping off his shirt and tossing it to him. Then she marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs in nothing but her thong, knowing full well he’d watch her the whole way. If he was going to demand she let him in completely, shed all of her defenses, she’d make sure it was a long day for them both.