Bayside Passions (Bayside Summers Book 2) Read online

  Her eyes opened wider. “You’re so mad you’re sweating? I really do suck. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head and knelt beside the pile of plants, trying not to think about her sucking, and patted the ground beside him. “It was an honest mistake. I’m not mad. Come here, doll.”

  She squatted, resting her forearms on her thighs, which pushed her breasts together and made them nearly pop out of her top.

  “Don’t look at my boobs.” She adjusted her bikini top, which did nothing to help. “The girls always want to come out and play.”

  “Christ, Em. Put a shirt on.” Before I take them up on their offer.

  “You put a shirt on.”

  “I’m not the one with overzealous tatas.”

  She smiled. “Did you just call my boobs ‘tatas’?”

  “Would you rather I said ‘tits’?”

  “No. I hate that word.”

  “Boobs? Breasts? Knockers? Jugs? Melons? Cupcakes?”

  Laughter burst from her lungs.

  He loved her loud, boisterous laugh and tried to prolong hearing it. “Hooters? Fun bags? Love apples?”

  She fell to the side, holding her stomach. “Stop! Stop! I’m gonna pee!”

  Laughing right along with her, he sat on the dirt. Dean had spent years as a trauma nurse, and it had changed his outlook on life. He’d always been pretty serious, but trying to save people on death’s doorstep changed a person. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost himself in laughter.

  Oh wait. Yes, he could. It was Valentine’s Day, when he and Emery had FaceTimed. She’d been filling in for a friend, delivering singing telegrams, dressed up like a cupid in a skimpy red leotard complete with wings and foam arrows. She’d insisted on acting out every single telegram she’d delivered, and the recipients’ reactions to them. What had started as a holy-fuck-you-danced-around-in-that conversation had turned into rip-roaring hilarity.

  “You should do that more often,” she said, wiping happy tears from her eyes.

  He reached over and wiped a tear that had slid all the way to the edge of her jaw. “Do what?”

  “Smile.”

  Their eyes connected and his world halted, the temperature spiked, and the very air seemed to hum. But just as quickly as hope filled him, she pushed up to her knees, breaking the spell.

  “Okay, boob man. Tell me about three-toothed squirrels.”

  He knelt beside her, wondering if he’d imagined the heat.

  “Cinquefoil.” He grabbed a plant, focusing on it instead of his overactive desires. “See the woody stem and evergreen leaves? They’ll grow little white flowers.”

  “Sorry, Dean, but they still look like weeds to me.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that, because they’re small. They’re for groundcover, and really beautiful when they flower.” He picked up the hand shovel and gave it to her. “Dig a hole.”

  “A hole? How big?”

  “Big enough to replant this.”

  She thrust the shovel into the dirt deep enough to bury a small animal. He reached around her, stilling her hands.

  “The earth is already tilled,” he explained. His gaze caught on the glimmering gold bracelet on her wrist. The one he’d sent her for her birthday with the tiny delphinium flower charm. He slid his gaze to her other bracelets on the table. “Why didn’t you take that bracelet off?”

  “I don’t know,” she said absently. “I never take it off.”

  He wanted to read far more into that than she probably meant. Knowing Emery, the extra safety clasp he’d had put on the bracelet was just too much of a pain to fiddle with.

  “You only need to cover what’s left of the roots. Like this.” He guided her efforts, his bare chest pressed against her warm, soft back. She smelled like sunshine and lavender, feminine and pretty, just like she had the weekend they’d first met. That weekend had passed in a whirlwind of celebrating Desiree and Rick’s engagement. Dean had grown up with Rick and his siblings, Drake and Mira. The weekend of the party, they had all hung out together in a group. And although he and Emery had spent nearly every minute by each other’s side, flirting like there was no tomorrow, he’d refrained from trying to take it any further because she was only there for a weekend and he wasn’t looking for a quick, meaningless lay. But then they’d kept in touch, and the desire to be closer to her had grown. And now all he wanted to do was soak all of her in.

  She dipped her chin, and her hair brushed against his shoulder. He imagined it sweeping across his chest, spread out over his pillow, brushing over his thighs…

  Torture. Pure torture.

  He put a few inches of space between them, hoping to temper his desires…again.

  “Good job.” He handed her the plant, giving him something else to focus on. “Now put this in and push the dirt around it.”

  “Put it in the hole,” she said as she did it, “and pack it in good.” She smiled up at him. “How’d I do?”

  He was still hung up on putting it in the hole and packing it in good. He cleared his throat and said, “Great. See? You don’t have a black thumb, just a confused one. Now we have to do the rest of them.”

  They worked side by side replanting the garden and teasing each other as they’d done for months long-distance. This was so much better. Their friendship was easy and natural, and as much as he wanted more, he knew if he pushed for it, he could ruin everything. If he could keep himself in check, at least he had a chance for something more developing naturally.

  That was a big if.

  When they finished planting he brought out the hose and watered the plants.

  “What now?” she asked, surveying their work.

  “Now we pray they don’t go into shock.”

  “Oh no, really? I feel horrible, but they actually look prettier now. Not so much like weeds.” With a hand on her slim hip, she said, “They obviously needed my touch.”

  He was pretty sure he’d look better if she had her hands all over him, too. He sprayed her with the hose and she shrieked, taking off right through the garden they’d just planted. He dropped the hose and thrust his hands out, catching her around the waist and lifting her straight up before she could trample the plants, her legs still moving. He tossed her over his shoulder and carried her toward the house.

  “Hey! I’m sorry! Dean! Where are you taking me?”

  “Keeping the chaos away from my gardens.” If she were his, he’d carry her straight into the bedroom and keep her busy so she couldn’t cause any more trouble. But she wasn’t, and she’d told him enough horror stories over the last few months about dating friends to know better than to even try. He stopped at the patio and set her on her feet.

  She crossed her arms and narrowed her beautiful eyes. “Are you calling me chaos?”

  He was sure she meant to look mean, but she looked cute as hell, and he couldn’t help but smile. “You said it, whirlwind, not me.”

  Tango, one of his two kittens, wound around her feet. She scooped him up, holding him against her chest and nuzzling his head. “I am not chaos or a whirlwind. Am I, little guy?” She glanced at Dean, rubbing her cheek against the area of the cat’s head where his ear should have been. “I can’t believe I can finally hold Tango. I wanted to so badly when I saw you feeding him and Cash on Skype.”

  In early spring, when he was out for a morning run, Dean had found the two kittens down by a marsh. They were nothing but skin and bones, shivering, with barely enough energy to lift their heads. Both had been severely injured. Tango, a calico, was missing one ear, and the wound had become infected. Cash, who was all gray, had an open wound on his tail. He’d taken them directly to the vet, and they’d clung to him like a lifeline. He’d bottle-fed them and cared for their wounds. They’d recovered well and had become mischievous little guys, and they’d been sleeping on his bed ever since.

  She rubbed noses with the kitty and set him down. “Where’s Cash?”

  He shrugged. “Probably out prowling around somewhere.�
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  “Speaking of prowling around, why aren’t you out chasing hot chicks on your day off? You do landscaping all week long. Don’t you want some prowling time?”

  “Do I seem like the prowling type to you?” He had women hitting on him all day long at the resort, the assisted living facility, the hospital, and at the beach. Once upon a time, he’d enjoyed that availability to the fullest, but ever since getting to know Emery, there had been only one woman on his mind.

  And at the moment, she was bending over to pet Tango, giving him an eyeful of her playful girls and driving him out of his ever-loving mind.

  Chapter Two

  “YOU MIGHT BE even better at grilling than Desiree is at making breakfast.” Emery reached over and stole a pineapple chunk from Dean’s plate. He’d grilled shrimp and steak kabobs with chunks of pineapple and peppers for dinner, and they were eating at the table on the patio. After the garden debacle, she’d been relegated to the patio, the house, or basically anywhere that wasn’t green. “You know, that says something, considering Desiree’s breakfast skills are driven by her sex life.”

  The running joke at Summer House Inn, where Dean, Rick, and the rest of their friends gathered for breakfast most mornings, was that the quality of Desiree’s breakfasts was determined by how hot her sex with Rick had been the night before. Emery had to admit, she was a little jealous that Desiree had a five-star sex life while hers was practically nonexistent. She’d had plenty of sex over the years, but watching her best friend fall madly in love had opened her eyes to what she’d never known she was missing. Not that she was capable of having such a loving, stable relationship. Her parents had divorced when she was young, and although she still had a close-knit family and had grown up splitting time between both parents’ houses, neither she nor her brothers seemed capable of maintaining anything worthy of being called a relationship—much less finding everlasting love.

  She pushed those thoughts away and snagged another pineapple chunk from Dean’s plate, having nearly licked her own clean. “By Desiree standards, you must be getting some pretty hot sex, too. That’s not surprising. I mean look at you.” She waved her hand at him. “You’ve got it all going on, with that killer smile, eyes that say, ‘I’ll fuck you and cherish you at once,’ and a body that could melt panties from twenty feet away.”

  He raised his brows in quick succession. “Give you any ideas?”

  “Like you need me on your list of lovers?” She laughed and took a sip of his iced tea, as hers was already gone. Dean had spoken often about hanging out with friends and his work over the past few months, but he’d only alluded to going on a few first dates. She was curious about his personal life. “As I said, you must have a hell of a sex life.”

  He scoffed. “Hardly.”

  “Seriously? You cook this well just because?” Cash wound around her feet, purring. She’d loved him up while Dean was grilling, and he’d been following her around ever since. “I’m not buying it.”

  “I do everything well just because.”

  Enjoying his cockiness, she said, “Careful saying that around women, big guy. They’ll want you to perform.” Her phone vibrated with a text and she began licking her fingers while simultaneously looking around for her napkin. She spotted it on the ground and bent to retrieve it. “Can you check that text for me?”

  “I’m a little busy,” he said, eyeing her boobs.

  She glared at him and wiped her hands, but they stuck to the napkin. “Ugh. Still sticky. Maybe you could put your checking-out skills to better use and read my text for me.”

  “You really want me to read your text?”

  It was cute to see such a large, confident man worrying about what he might see on her phone. “It’s probably my brothers checking up on me. Come on, it’s not like it’s going to be a sext or anything.” Dean had met her entire family over Easter, when her older brother Austin had walked in on the two of them FaceTiming at their mother’s house. Austin had made a big deal of bringing the whole family in to meet Dean in a failed attempt to embarrass her. She didn’t get embarrassed over friendships. He’d deemed Dean Viking that night because of his beard and the stern impression he’d left on Austin. Before she’d taken off for the Cape, Austin had told her not to call him in a month and say she was shacking up with Dean, or he’d come out and teach the poor bastard a lesson. Yes, being out from under her brothers’ thumbs was a very good thing, though with her luck, there was no chance in hell of making out with—much less shacking up with—anyone anytime soon.

  She went into the house and washed her hands in the kitchen sink. “Not all of us have great sex lives,” she called out to Dean.

  “I know your dating history, remember? I’m not checking your text.”

  She came outside and grabbed her phone. “I love that whole disappearing-wall thing you have going on.” She read the text from Desiree. Where are you? Did you find a new BFF? “Des wants to know if I have a new BFF.” She read her response aloud as she typed it. “I’m with my number two BFF. You might know him. Big, bearded badass with mad cooking skills.”

  She smiled at Dean and said, “We should get everyone together and go to that bar in Truro we went to at Christmastime. Do you think the traffic is gone yet? Can you give me directions to Desiree’s?”

  “Undercover? Sounds good, and yeah, the traffic is probably gone. I’ll write down directions.”

  Her phone vibrated with Desiree’s response, and she read it to Dean. “Tell the bearded cooker he’ll never take my number one spot. Come over so I can see you!”

  “Tell her the competition is on,” Dean teased.

  She smiled, imagining Dean trying to beat out Desiree as her very best bestie. How could he top more than twenty years of friendship? She sent a quick response to Desiree. Okay. Be there soon. We’re going to Undercover tonight. Can you and Rick come and bring Vi, Serena, and Drake? She was glad she already had a small group of friends here. Back home, if she’d asked friends to meet her at a bar, at least thirty people she’d known her whole life would show up. And, she realized, not one of those people knew her as well as Desiree and Dean did.

  “I’d better get going if I want to shower before we go out.” She began clearing the table, wondering if people who lived at the beach just threw on a tank top over their bathing suits and headed out for the night? She waved at her bathing suit and asked, “I can’t go like this. Can I?”

  “Not with your playful girls on display, you can’t.”

  She smirked. “Maybe I should. Who knows? Maybe I’ll find a hot date that way.”

  He scowled and carried his dishes inside. He scribbled down directions to Desiree’s, mumbling something about getting herself into trouble, and Emery went to get her belongings from the table by the garden. She slipped her dress over her head, admiring their planting job. Three of her footprints were evident through the middle of the garden. Remembering how quickly and easily Dean had intercepted her holy-garden terror, she got down on her hands and knees and filled the holes in with dirt. She grabbed her keys, bangle, and one of her other bracelets, searching high and low for the third bracelet. She finally gave up and headed back to the house.

  “I lost one of my bracelets,” she said as she joined Dean on the patio. “It’s silver and says, ‘Blame it on my gypsy soul,’ I think. It might say, ‘I solemnly swear I’m up to no good,’ and it might actually be gold not silver. I can’t remember which one I wore, but if you find it, can you hang on to it for me?”

  “Are you sure you had it on when you got here?”

  “Mm-hm. Pretty sure, anyway. It’s not that big a deal if you can’t find it. I have a ton of them.”

  He handed her the directions and walked her out front.

  “Don’t you want help cleaning up?”

  “After seeing how you helped with the garden?” He cracked a smile, and he must have seen the guilt she felt written all over her face, because he touched her back and said, “I’m kidding, doll. The garden actuall
y looks better now.”

  “You’re the greatest for lying to me.” She set her things on the passenger seat of her Jetta. “Thanks for letting me hang here for the day.”

  “Anytime, doll.”

  She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Mm. You smell good after a hard day of lounging around with me.” She climbed into the car and started it up. “See you at Undercover.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  As she drove away, she felt like she’d been visiting Dean for a week, not just a handful of hours. Things were like that between them. When they talked on the phone hours would pass feeling like minutes. She was glad it was no different in person.

  The roads were clear, and it took her less than ten minutes to get to the inn. This weekend traffic flow would take some getting used to. In Oak Falls heavy traffic meant it took seven minutes instead of five to get to work, and that was a rarity.

  She parked beside Violet’s motorcycle, taking in the gorgeous gardens, which she knew Dean had helped with in the spring, the cute cottages lining the right side of the property, and the magnificent Victorian overlooking Cape Cod Bay. Desiree and Rick lived in the main house, and they rented out the other rooms, as well as two of the four cottages. They used one of the cottages as Devi’s Discoveries, the art gallery (with an adult-toy store in the back, which they called an adult-exploration shop) their flighty, vagabond mother, Lizza Vancroft, had left for them to run when she’d taken off for some sort of overseas meditation mission.

  Emery climbed from the car feeling a thousand times calmer than she had when she’d left Virginia. Spending the day with Dean had centered her and eased her anxieties. Looking forward to her new adventure, she drew in a deep breath and grabbed a few of her bags from the trunk.

  Desiree burst out of Violet’s cottage. Her wavy blond hair was secured at the base of her neck, and her floral sundress swung around her thighs as she ran toward Emery. Emery squealed, dropped her bags, and plowed into her open arms, hugging, laughing, and talking at once as Violet sauntered out of the cottage and joined them.