Mouth to Mouth (Beach Kingdom 1)

“Are we?” Jamie pushed off the wall. “You guys have ended up in the same place quite a few times. Maybe it’s less coincidence and more the universe trying to tell you something. And that’s hard for a pragmatic economics teacher to admit.”

“If it’s the universe talking…I wasn’t afraid to listen to it the first time.” She swallowed. “But I am now. I am now that he’s left before. Now that I know how it feels to watch him go.”

Jamie paused near the door, a line forming between his brows. “Trust me when I say that wasn’t easy for him to do,” he said. “And I don’t think he’ll be able to do it again.”

“Yeah, exactly.” She gave him a half-smile. “You don’t think so.”

The door chose that moment to burst open, narrowly missing Jamie and careening off the office wall. Instead of Rory, in burst a giant man in a muscle T-shirt with a naked woman tattooed on his forearm. “What happened? Someone told me there was a fight.” He deflated when he saw Jamie, doubling over and propping his hands on his knees. “Oh shit, man, when I didn’t see you behind the bar I thought you’d gotten caught up in the fight.” He straightened with a too-loud laugh. “So, uh. Okay. Never mind. All’s well that ends well. And you’re…I mean, you seem well, Jamie Prince.” He scrubbed at the back of his neck. “Are you?”

“Yes.” Jamie pinched the bridge of his nose. “Go back to work, Marcus.”

“Yup. Soon as you do.” He crossed his beefy arms, the poster boy for refusing to budge. “Who’s the girl? Did you change your mind about liking dudes?”

Jamie clasped his hands together. “Why yes, it’s just something that happens on a whim.”

Marcus squinted one eye. “Wait. Really?”

“No.” Jamie shoved at the man’s shoulder. “Move it, dumbass. Andrew is probably ready to kill me for leaving him in the weeds this long—and before you ask—no, my brother isn’t really ready to kill me. It’s just an expression.”

A beat passed. “You called me a dumbass.”

Rory’s brother sighed as they both passed through the doorframe. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I didn’t mean it.”

“Okay.”

Olive was still trying to absorb both her conversation with Jamie, followed by the oddly endearing dynamic between him and Marcus, when Rory returned. And yeah, wow. Wow, her thighs just kind of melted into the desk and the oxygen in the room turned as thick as soup. Just like that. Olive wanted to maintain her anger at him, but she couldn’t. Not when he looked so relieved to find her still there. “Where is Leanne?”

“Put her in an Uber. She’s good.” He reached out and caught her hand, massaging her palm with his thumb. An action Olive swore she could feel right between her legs. “Will you come out with me, sunbeam?” Rory murmured into her wrist, letting his tongue snake out and brand her skin. “There’s a place down the street where everyone I know won’t be watching us.”

Should she do this? Open herself up for more potential disappointment and pain?

When she might have said no and let self-preservation win the day, a little reminder piped up in the back of her mind. That damning certainty that she could walk from one end of the earth to the other and no one might make her feel like Rory ever again. This time, though… she needed to keep her guard up.

“Olive?”

She took a bracing breath. “Okay, Rory. For a little while.”

*

Olive hadn’t found any of the bars that night particularly inspiring. Inside they all seemed to look pretty much the same. Flat-screen televisions in every corner, loud conversation, louder music, the same glowing row of jewel tone liquor bottles on the shelves. Since she’d only been inside the Castle Gate for all of two minutes before Zed picked a fight with a stranger who’d stepped on his foot, she wasn’t afforded much of an opportunity to look around. As Rory led her through the crowd and out the door, however, she couldn’t deny something set it apart.

The memorabilia on the walls was from another time. Sawdust decorated the floor and the aroma of it, mixed with spilled beer, made her think of some spirited, medieval gathering. There were televisions, but they weren’t blaring—and one of them actually appeared to be showing classic game show reruns. A traditional Irish song ended and Radiohead began and no one seemed to notice the contrast. Olive did, though. Felt the bass and moodiness of it seep into her veins as they walked out into the cooling night.

A hunger she’d only experienced for this man thrummed in all of her erogenous zones and the nearby ocean sounds tickled her with romance. Lust and romance. That combination would make it especially difficult to keep up her guard. Rory pulled her into the warmth of his body, gently kissing the bandage on her head. “Poor sunbeam.”