by KENDALL RYAN

Wednesday

Copy Editing and Formatting by

Pam Berehulke

Cover design by

Emma Hart

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be
reproduced or transmitted in any form without
written permission of the author, except by a
reviewer who may quote brief passages for
review purposes only.

This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used

fictitiously.

Table of Contents

Other Books by Kendall Ryan

About the Book

Hard-core fucking.

It’s not what I really want, but

it’s all he has to offer. He’s filled

with turmoil and heartache and

regrets, but for two hours every

Wednesday all he feels is me. How

much I desire him, how desperate

he makes me, how much I’d like

things to be different between us.

Real.

He used to be my best friend

back before he got married. And

now? Now, he’s a young widower. It

would be wrong on so many levels

to expect something more from

him, so I give him what he needs.

Dark, delicious fucking.

But I know I can’t keep this up.

I’ve already given him my body, my

soul. I want him to have my heart.

It might drive him away forever, but

that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Wednesday is an angsty romp

told from dual points of view. If

you’re in the mood for something

quick and dirty, you’ve found it.

Proceed at your own risk.

Chapter One

Chloe

The first time we fucked, I was

actually ashamed to admit, was

after his wife’s funeral. Her parents

had hosted a luncheon at their

home, fifty people comprised of

various friends and relatives.

Devastation had been written all

over the faces of those who’d been

close to her, while the distant

relatives acted uncertain and aloof,

nervously glancing at the floor and

making small talk. Needless to say,

it was a somber occasion and the

mood reflected it.

I’d felt heavy, like I was moving

underwater. A life lost so young—it

all felt pointless. Mostly, though,

my pain for him was what felt

insurmountable. Shaw. Once upon

a time, he’d been my everything.

He was standing in the corner

talking to one of her great aunts,

holding an empty glass that my

brother had kept filled with whiskey

all afternoon. I wanted to help—to

do something, anything, to take that

dark, stormy look out of his eyes—

so I asked him if he wanted to get

some air.

He took my proffered hand

without a word, but instead of

leading me outside like I expected—

maybe to the front porch for a

breath of the cool February air—he

towed me upstairs. And straight

into the bathroom. Without a word,

he pulled my black cashmere

sweater off over my head.

I stood there shocked for a few

seconds. This was Shaw—my

former best friend and secret

lifelong crush. The man who once

held my heart in the palm of his

hand when I was young and foolish.

And he had just been through the

most traumatic event of his twenty-

six years—losing his wife to a drunk

driver. Yet here he was, singularly

focused on getting me naked, and

seemingly as quickly as possible.

He unhooked my bra and then

his hot mouth descended, latching

onto my nipple—sucking hard and

pulling a cry from my lips despite

my reservations. And even though I

was twenty-five at the time, now

twenty-six, I was new to this quick

intimacy and raw, carnal desire.

Sexual relations were always the

result of the proper number of

dates, and more out of obligation

than desire.

My head was spinning as he

unbuttoned the black dress pants

I’d bought just for the occasion and

placed me roughly on the

countertop next to the sink. I

should have asked him what he was

doing, but honestly, questioning

him never even entered my brain.

Then, before I could think, his

mouth crashed into mine, hungry

and demanding, and his fingers

were in my panties. I’d groaned,

palming his heavy erection through

his slacks . . .

“Chloe?” My brother’s terse

voice snapped me from my erotic

daydream.

“Yeah?” I sounded breathless

and my cheeks were flushed from

that memory alone. Not just

because of how crazy-good the sex

was—I’d come three times around

Shaw’s thick, powerful cock—but

because the entire encounter had

been laced with illicit undertones. It

was forbidden and wrong on the

most basic of levels. We could have

been discovered at any moment,

overheard by a nosy relative. But in

that moment, we gave zero fucks.

Afterward, of course, guilt like

I’d never experienced before

slammed through me and kept me

in bed for the next three days. I

hadn’t known Samantha well, but

that didn’t matter. I’d used Shaw in

a vulnerable moment for my own

pleasure. I’d gotten off on the whole

thing, been totally out of my mind

with wanton lust. What I’d done

was wrong. And worse? I’d wanted

to do it again.

“What the hell is with you?”

Jason asked.

“What?” I tossed the laundered

towels into a basket and hefted it up

onto the counter.

“You’re as distracted and jumpy

as a hooker at church. What’s up

with you lately?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

Everything had changed over

the course of a few short months.

That somber day might have been

how everything started with Shaw,

but since then it had changed into

something even darker.

“Well, I need your focus today.

We have six groups checking in, and

the McAlpherson party wants to

charter a fishing boat this

afternoon. You’ll have to call Shaw

and see if he can take them out on

such short notice.”

“Why can’t you?”

The thought of calling Shaw

made my stomach hurt. That’s not

how our interactions worked. I

never asked questions—never

demanded anything of him, in fact.

Everything was on his terms. His

schedule. His way. A chill ran

through me.

“Because I’ve got a plumber

coming in ten minutes to fix the

leak in the Grande suite, which

means I have nine minutes left to

finish checking out the”—he

thumbed through the invoices on

his desk—“thirteen people leaving

today.”

“Fine,” I grumbled.

If Jason knew what was going

on between Shaw and me, I’d feel

the shame of his harsh judgment

for years to come. And since we

worked together seven days a week,

it wasn’t something I ever wanted

to come between us. He and Shaw

were also close friends, and Jason

was fiercely protective of him ever

since the accident. He looked out

for Shaw like a brother, and I was

sure he’d find a way to blame me

for my disgraceful, opportunistic

behavior. Even though Shaw had

been the one to seduce me, none of

that would matter in my brother’s

eyes.

I loved my brother, but

apparently I liked being naughty

just a little bit more. Some things

were black and white, and this was

one of them. Shaw was well-known

and well-loved in our island

community. He ran a marina that

his now-retired parents owned. He

spent his days out on the water or

on the dock, fueling boats, calling

out orders to his staff, helping

families take off in their rented

pontoons. He was confident and

sure, and I loved watching him

work on the rare occasions I

ventured down to the marina. His

skin was always bronzed and

golden, his jaw perpetually in need

of a shave.

The people of our sleepy island

town felt deep sympathy for him—

brought him home-cooked meals,

left flowers on Samantha’s

headstone, and hugged him with

tears in their eyes at diners and

drugstores. He was practically a

local celebrity because of his

family’s business here, but also

because of the tragedy in his life

this past year. I was sure I’d be

painted as an opportunistic harlot

who tempted a grieving widower,

taking advantage of his situation for

my own personal benefit, but that

couldn’t have been further from the

truth. Every time he left, it almost

killed me inside.

I grabbed my purse and slipped

on my favorite pink flip-flops.

“What are you doing?” Jason

asked behind me.

“This is a job that needs to be

done in person.” Fishing charters

booked out months in advance. If I

was going to get our guests on a

boat today, it was going to take

some magic.

Jason nodded with a smirk.

“Fair enough.”

I tossed my purse onto the

floorboard of the golf cart my

brother and I used to get around the

property, and slid onto the seat. It

was a magical place, and I was glad

we’d kept it in the family for three

generations now. The wide front

porch overlooking the ocean was

the perfect spot to sit with a cup of

coffee and listen to the soft sound

of the waves. The huge old

manchineel trees provided much-

needed shade from the brightness

of the sun. They were beautiful,

though the little green fruits they

produced were deadly. My father

had only reminded me of that

sixteen thousand times.

The first floor of the old

plantation-style estate was where I

was raised, and now held Jason’s

living quarters along with our

offices. The second level held eight

guest suites we kept rented year-

round, along with an apartment for

me with a separate entrance. And in

the grassy courtyard at the center of

our circular drive was a fountain

where I’d dropped pennies as a little

girl, making childish wishes. I

looked at it longingly, silently

hoping for some good luck today.

The marina Shaw’s family

owned wasn’t far, just a couple of

miles away. Close enough that

when I was younger, I used to walk

there, but far enough that I’d never

do that now.

As I drove down the one-lane

gravel road that ran between our

two properties, the salty air blew

my hair back from my face, giving

me a sense of peace, but the honey-

colored locks no doubt becoming a

tousled mess. I bumped along, my

mind wandering to Shaw as it often

did without my permission.

The man with the brooding

hazel eyes that seemed to change

color based on his mood, an old

soul, and a perfect butt.

God, Chloe.

If anyone knew I was fucking

Shaw, I didn’t think I could live

with myself.

The first time it happened, I

thought it was a fluke—a drunken,

guilt-riddled mistake. I was certain

it was a one-time thing, and

something I hoped we could just

forget about and move on. When he

showed up at my front door a few

days later in the middle of the

night, I assumed it was to apologize.

I figured he’d beg me to forgive

him, explain that he’d been out of

his mind with grief and it was all

some huge mistake.

When I let him inside, rather

than apologizing, he pinned me to

the wall and then his mouth was on

mine, hot and demanding. Fingers

slid into my pajama bottoms,

pulling them down my legs. I

almost pushed him away, almost

told him to stop. I’d just spent three

nights crying myself to sleep over

our grief-induced fuck session at

Samantha’s parents’ house. But

then his mouth moved to my neck

and he’d whispered the one word he

knew would ensure I gave him what

he wanted.

Please.

It was a broken plea, a prayer

on his lips. It stunned me—like I

alone had the power to heal him.

He was giving me all the control in

this exchange. I could have said no,

and part of me wanted to. I could

have pushed him away and ended

this whole thing.

Shaw . . .

Instead, I murmured his name,

trying to find meaning in this

sudden change in him. In twenty-

five years he’d never laid a finger on

me, never acted like I affected him

at all. We’d practiced kissing when I

was twelve, but that was so

innocent compared to this.

His finger stroked my clit,

applying just the right amount of

pressure and speed, and I shivered

in his arms, halfway between

pushing him away and begging him

never to stop. But it was his next

words that sealed the deal.

I need you, Chloe.

So have me, I whispered to him.

And he did. He owned my body

in ways no man had before. We

fucked against the wall, my legs

wrapped around his waist, his hips

slamming against me in powerful

thrusts, his mouth nipping at my

throat, his fingertips leaving bruises

on my thighs . . .

He left me sore and feeling

used, hot semen running down my

legs as he tucked himself away and

zipped up his jeans. I didn’t know if

I felt disgusted or elated or just

indifferent. I was numb and reeling

but I knew I wanted more, if only to

find meaning in what the hell we

were doing.

Every Wednesday since that

night, it was like clockwork. Shaw

always found his way to my door

and I always said yes, letting him

fuck me however he desired. It was

usually hard and fast and brutal. I

always came several times before

he found his release. But instead of

helping him heal, like I tried to

pretend I was doing at first, he was

getting worse.

Like now.

“Shaw?” I asked, pushing open

the door to the marina’s small

office. It was dark inside despite the

bright sunshine outside. My eyes

struggled to adjust. He hadn’t been

out on the dock like I’d expected,

and one of his guys had pointed

toward the office.

When my eyes adjusted, I

glanced at a disorganized desktop

piled with invoices, receipts, and

paper coffee cups.

“Need something, Sunshine?”

Startled because I hadn’t seen

him in the shadows, I took a deep,

steadying breath. Then I rolled my

eyes at the nickname he’d called me

for as long as I could remember. I’d

despised it for just as long.

“Why are you sitting in the

dark?”

I pulled open the plantation

shutters, bathing us in warm light.

He let out a groan at the intrusion

and shielded his eyes.

“Shaw . . .” My fingers flew to

my mouth and I took a step back.

He was sitting in a deep leather

armchair in a corner of the office,

his bare feet propped up on the

matching ottoman and a bottle of

whiskey in his hand. It was half-

empty.

“What the hell are you doing?” I

crossed the room and took it from

him, screwing the cap back on

firmly. “It’s barely noon.”

He only shrugged. “It’s five

o’clock somewhere.”

I let out a deep sigh. I didn’t

want to argue with him. “I have a

party of two I need to get on a boat.”

He grunted. “When?”

Shifting my weight, I took a

step toward him. “Later this

afternoon. Can you do it or not?”

He pulled his cell phone from

the pocket of his board shorts and

made a call—I assumed to one of

the guys on the dock.

“Yes, I know, but make it work,”

he said and then stuffed the phone

back in his pocket. “Done.”

“Thank you.” I pulled my own

phone from my bag and texted my

brother the time and slip number

for the guests.

When I put my phone away, I

looked at Shaw and saw his gaze

was fixed on my bare legs. My

sundress felt so flimsy and sheer, I

might as well have been naked.

Reaching out toward me, he ran

a fingertip slowly down my thigh,

leaving a tingling path in its wake.

Chapter Two

Shaw

Running a fingertip along her warm

skin, I should have felt terrible

about what I was doing, yet I felt

absolutely nothing at all. Chloe had

always been there for me, through

all of life’s ups and downs. But

these last few months I’d crossed a

line that should never be crossed. I

had used her to chase away the

darkness—to forget the pain and

regrets and guilt that swam,

unchecked, inside me. And worse

than that? I had no plans to stop.

“Come here.” I offered her my

hand and she took it, letting me tug

her down into my lap. Her soft

floral scent mixed with ocean air

surrounded me, and I inhaled

against the side of her neck.

I was crossing new boundaries

—one, it was a Sunday, and two, it

was the middle of the day—but I

knew she wouldn’t refuse me. At

least, I was betting she wouldn’t.

“What are you doing?” she

asked, breathless as her head

dropped back, letting me kiss and

suck the soft skin of her neck.

My cock hardened as she

straddled my lap. She gave out a

little breathless grunt of surprise.

Gnawing pressure built, and I

hungered to satisfy the urge the

only way I knew how. By burying

myself in the tight grip of Chloe’s

cunt.

She had become an obsession

for me. Who knew my sweet little

friend with her wide, innocent blue

eyes and high pink cheekbones was

such an epic fuck? Perfectly shaped

petal-pink pussy with its greedy wet

opening just begging me to fill it . . .

her heartbeat that pounded just for

me . . . the needy sounds she

murmured when I entered her.

“Are you going to let me take

this sweet pussy?” I whispered,

feeling her skin break out in chill

bumps.

“Now? Here?” Her voice was

breathless.

Rather than answer, I pushed

my hips up, grinding my cock into

the soft cleft between her thighs.

“Someone could come in.”

I tipped my head back, watching

her, wondering if this would be the

time she’d refuse me. She was so

tempting, so sweet, and fuck if I

could resist her. She quieted the

cloudy discontent that swirled in

my brain. It wasn’t a question of

desire. It was a need.

“I have to get back to work,” she

added weakly.

Reaching behind her neck, I

untied the strings holding her dress

in place. It fell away, exposing a

gorgeous set of full, perky breasts. I

raked my thumbs across her

nipples, watching them pebble

beneath my touch. Her blue eyes

drifted closed.

I cupped the weight of her

breasts, enjoying how they felt in

my hands. Warm. Soft. Heavy.

Lifting one breast to my mouth,

I kept my eyes locked on hers,

needing to see her reaction. Sucking

and licking her sensitive pink

nipple, I watched as she writhed in

my lap and moaned out a soft sigh.

“I want to feel you riding my

cock,” I said before sucking the firm

peak into my mouth again.

She groaned out my name

through clenched teeth. I could feel

the damp heat between her legs and

knew she was already getting wet

for me.

Her phone rang from inside her

purse, but we both ignored it while

I continued licking and sucking her

breasts.

I pulled open the front of my

shorts and Chloe took me in her

hands, gripping me firmly and

rubbing her thumb over the drop of

fluid at my tip. This time, I was the

one groaning in the otherwise quiet

room. She had magic fucking hands.

Hands that held the power to make

me forget my own damn name. She

gave her palm a twist, massaging

my shaft in maddening strokes.

Her phone rang again and she

pulled away, her hands working

quickly to tie her dress back in

place. “It’s probably Jason. We’re

slammed at the inn. I’m sorry . . . I

have to go.”

The idea of her leaving was not

a pleasant one, but I knew I

couldn’t make her stay. I had

nothing to offer her, nothing real to

give her.

She grabbed her purse and was

gone before I could even get my

dick back in my pants.

The air-conditioner hummed

softly from the other room, and I

swore under my breath. What the

hell am I doing? Regrets rushed

through me, hot and fast.

I rose to my feet, wanting to

take another swig from the bottle

on my desk, but decided against it.

Heading down the hall, I unlocked

the door to my private apartment at

the back of the single-story building

and let myself inside.

I stripped off yesterday’s

clothes as I made my way toward

the small bathroom with a glass

stand-up shower stall. Not

bothering to let the water warm, I

stepped under the spray and hissed

through my teeth.

A cold shower, both to sober me

and to tamp down my raging libido.

Chloe was the golden-haired

little girl I’d taught to fish, and

caught minnows with. She was the

first girl I kissed, the one who

taught me the lyrics to her favorite

pop songs. She’d been my best

friend since I was a little kid—and

now she was my fuck toy. The

memory of how it all started

loomed large, impossible to escape.

Samantha had been killed on a

Wednesday. Four days later at her

funeral, I wasn’t any closer to

understanding what had happened.

I felt lost and empty and nothing

made sense. Then Chloe had taken

my hand and looked at me with

worry in her ocean-blue eyes, and

I’d snapped. I broke the one rule I

vowed I’d never break. Chloe was

practically a sister to me. A friend.

My best friend. But never my lover.

That hadn’t stopped me from using

her to escape the grief that stormed

through me day and night.

I scrubbed shampoo through

my hair and pushed all the noise

out of my brain.

Apparently I was taking two of

Chloe’s guests out on a fishing

expedition in my personal boat

since every other craft in my fleet

was booked to capacity, and my own

manager had even told me no way.

We lived and died by the rule

the customer is always right.

Nowadays you made one misstep

and an angry patron would blast

you with a one-star review on social

media sites—and things like that

stay there forever. We were barely

scraping by as it was. We couldn’t

afford to say no and leave guests

unsatisfied. Not if I could help it,

anyway. Plus with Chloe being the

one to ask, I couldn’t exactly say no,

considering all the ways she’d been

there for me.

After dressing in a new pair of

board shorts and a clean T-shirt, I

headed out onto the docks, knowing

there was more to be done. There

was always more work to be done,

or maybe it was that I needed to

feel the warmth of the sunshine on

my skin since I knew my soul was

as black as night.

“Hey, did you get that charter

figured out?” one of my deck hands

asked.

“Nah. Fuel me up. I’m taking

them out myself later today.” Once

I’ve sobered up.

He shook his head, smirking at

me. “She’s got you pussy-whipped,

man.”

“Not even a little bit,” I replied.

I didn’t know if he knew the

extent of my relationship with

Chloe. But I was never going there

again with a woman. Deep,

committed monogamy. No way. I’d

changed who I was once before and

nearly lost a lifelong friend, and

look what happened. My entire

world got knocked on its ass. My

philosophy now was that pussy was

easy to come by and best when

regularly rotated.

Then why haven’t I seen

anyone but Chloe? a little voice

inside asked.

Ever since Samantha’s death,

I’d been fucked up in the head.

Messing around with something

you don’t mess with. Something

sacred. My one-time best friend.

Only now I had no idea what she

was anymore. I only knew she made

me feel good. I knew she let me

fuck her raw six ways from Sunday.

Let me mark her skin, and moaned

when she tasted herself on my

tongue, then asked for more.

The scary part was that I had no

idea where this was heading and

how it could possibly end well, but I

knew one thing for certain—I had

no plans to end our arrangement.

“Just fuel me up and keep the

questions to a minimum,” I barked

back.

“Yes, boss.”

I checked my cooler for this

morning’s haul. The grouper was

still sitting pretty on ice. I grabbed

the fish and made my way inside,

knowing I had my work cut out for

me before I could get Chloe’s guests

out on the boat later.

• • •

“Abe? You here?” I called, opening

the flimsy screen door to his

rundown one-bedroom house.

Stony silence punctuated the

still air for several seconds, and my

gut twisted. The eerie realization

that one of these days I was going

to get here and find him dead

washed through me.

“I’m out back,” he called in his

gruff voice.

Taking a deep breath, I headed

through the house, stopping in the

kitchen to set the fish fillets I

brought him every Sunday in the

refrigerator. Its uneven hum told

me the appliance, much like

everything around here, was on its

last leg. I’d replaced his air-

conditioning unit last summer and

had a feeling more repairs were on

the horizon.

I found him out on the back

porch with its no-frills concrete

floor and screened walls, doing the

Sunday crossword from the

newspaper. I needed to remember

to bring him another crossword

book; the man probably didn’t have

any other hobbies.

I sank down into the folding

chair beside him, the rickety thing

creaking under my weight.

“You catch anything good for

me today?” he asked.

“Fresh grouper. There’re two

fillets for you in the fridge.”

“You sure you don’t want to

stay for one? I can fry them up in

some butter.”

He was a modern marvel. A

full-fat diet, yet skinny as a rail and

healthy as a horse.

I shook my head. “Can’t today. I

promised I’d take a couple of

Chloe’s guests out on a charter.”

“It’s nice how you’re there for

her.”

I grunted. “Trust me, she does

much more for me than I do for

her.”

Abe nodded. “She’s kept you

together after Samantha, I know.”

“She has.” Licks of guilt

tongued through me. If he only

knew.

“I can’t imagine, son,” he

continued. “Lost my Sarah after

fifty years of marriage, and I still

reach out for her in the night, still

call her name like she’s in the other

room. The brain knows she’s gone,

but the heart won’t accept it.”

I didn’t say anything because I

had nothing to say. His situation

and mine were very different. I had

celebrated only one anniversary

with Samantha and had yet to

adjust fully to life as someone’s

husband. It was a role I didn’t think

I was very good at, which only

added to my guilt.

We were quiet for several

minutes, the soft lap of waves in the

distance our only company.

I had to stop thinking about

this. I’d found myself slipping into a

dark place that I was quickly

realizing I didn’t like visiting lately.

My gaze dropped to the pile of mail

that I’d brought in from his front

porch.

“More offers?” I asked, leafing

through the pile I’d set on the dusty

glass table between us.

He nodded. “Throw them out.”

“Maybe you should open these

first?”

The return addresses were real

estate companies, investors, and

even a lawyer in South Carolina.

Real estate developers wanted to

bulldoze the place down and had

offered him outrageous sums of

money for his beachfront property,

but Abe held fast.

“What am I going to do with a

pile of money?” he asked.

The man had a point. He was

eighty-seven. No sense in trying to

pretend he’d be around long enough

to cash their checks, let alone enjoy

the money. He didn’t have any kids

or much in the way of relatives, as

far as I could tell. I was the closest

thing he had to family, and I

certainly wasn’t interested in the

money, or in seeing a line of condos

go up on the plot of beach that had

once been his home.

“Built this place with my own

two hands. It isn’t much but it’s

where I loved my Sarah, and where

I lost her too. I’d just as soon live

out my days here, thank you very

much.”

I nodded. I couldn’t blame him.

This was his home, all he knew.

“You need anything?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Go on. Go

help Chloe. I’ll be here.”

“Okay. I’ll see you next

weekend, and sooner if I find any

lobster.”

He grinned at me and gave me a

wink.

Chapter Three

Chloe

I was still a little shaky after my

encounter with Shaw, but did my

best to focus and get back to work.

Most days I felt like I was trying to

find an answer to the question: how

far would you go to be there for

your best friend?

He and I grew up together

swimming and surfing and

spending entire lazy Saturdays lying

in his parents’ hammock, talking

about how when we grew up and

finally got off this stupid island,

everything would be better. I taught

him how to climb trees and catch

lizards, and he taught me how to

kiss.

Then we got older, and four

years of college at the University of

Miami and city life sent us straight

back to the place we’d vowed to

escape. But with the perspective of

twenty-somethings, we realized that

people who lived in the city worked

all year just to be able to spend one

week in the place we called home.

Sun-kissed shoulders and flip-flops

and casual beach life weren’t easy

things to get out of your system, it

turns out. Of course, now I

wouldn’t trade it for anything. You

couldn’t drag me away.

Back then, things were so

different. I never thought of Shaw

that way. But now, looking back,

there were signs that deep down I

felt something more for the boy I

called my best friend.

It seemed so obvious now. I

always hated his girlfriends, never

thought they were good enough for

him. When we were younger it was

because they didn’t know how to

bait their own hooks or catch

minnows in the bay, and when we

were older it was because they

always seemed too polished with

painted nails and highlights in their

platinum-blond hair, and this

season’s designer jeans.

One thing was for sure—girls

always flocked to Shaw. I was

always by his side through all the

breakups and rebound flings. But

then he met Samantha and my

whole world changed. I couldn’t

blame her—Shaw was lovable times

a thousand. And I couldn’t blame

him, either.

It was a year after we got home

from college and I’d been busy

working seventy-hour weeks at the

inn my parents owned but left me

and my brother to run when they

retired. They took off in an RV with

maps and a plan to explore the

lower forty-eight states. Instead,

they were parked in the driveway of

my older sister’s suburban Kansas

City home so they could be close to

their grandkids. I was guessing they

wouldn’t be back to Florida until I

popped out a few kids for them to

spoil, or my brother knocked up

some poor, unsuspecting tourist.

Most locals knew Jason was a

player and steered clear.

Part of me wished Shaw was

like that—a player moving from girl

to girl, never settling down or

getting serious. But he wasn’t built

that way. He was a serial

monogamist through and through,

moving from one serious

relationship to another while I

remained perpetually single.

The year after graduating with a

hospitality degree, I threw myself

into the family business while Shaw

fell in love, and I knew I had really

lost him this time. It only made me

pull away more. Which was fine

with Samantha—she never liked the

revered place I’d once held in

Shaw’s life.

The inn Jason and I ran was on

the tiny Florida key of Marathon.

And anyone here would tell you,

island living made for close

quarters. It was the kind of place

where everyone knew everyone, and

usually by name. It was something

I’d always loved, but now I had

mixed feelings about. It was

impossible not to see Shaw, not to

feel his presence on an island with a

couple of thousand full-time

residents. It swelled to more than

ten thousand during peak travel

season, which the permanent

residents always viewed with mixed

feelings too.

On the one hand, the tourists

were the reason many of us could

live in paradise full-time. They

rented our hotel rooms, cars, and

boats, ate in the restaurants,

shopped at the boutiques along

Main Street. But they also crowded

our roads with extra traffic, littered

our beach with the remnants of

their picnics, and sometimes . . .

sometimes, they did very bad

things. Reckless things that could

never be taken back.

It was how Shaw’s wife was

killed. A rowdy college kid from

Georgia down here on spring break

had too much to drink and wasn’t

smart enough to call a cab, or hell,

just walk home. Instead he’d gotten

behind the wheel of his pickup

truck and driven south on Highway

12. It was early evening and the sky

was most likely painted pink and

orange like it so often was that

magical time of day.

I had no idea what Samantha

was doing in the tourist area that

night. Maybe it was just a case of

being at the wrong place at the

wrong time. But when his truck

crossed the center line and

slammed into her small sedan with

enough force to send it end over

end, none of that mattered. All that

mattered was that she died

instantly, and Shaw was left to

spiral into a deep depression.

At least, that’s how it seemed

from the outside looking in. Maybe

it wasn’t even depression. It was

more of a dark reverie, one that he

couldn’t seem to escape. And

despite how close we were

physically, that’s still what I was—

an outsider being held at a distance.

Shaw never let me get close enough

to see inside, to understand what he

was thinking and feeling.

I’d thought about calling this

whole thing off countless times—

telling him no the next time he

showed up at my door at two a.m.

with a wild look in his eyes, his fists

clenched at his sides, and whiskey

on his breath. But I always saw

what was beneath—his broken soul

that needed soothing, and a heavy

heart that I alone knew how to

handle with care.

Who was I kidding? The only

way I knew to make him feel better

was to reach down and palm his

erection, and whisper that I needed

him.

I wanted him to heal. I wanted

him to be okay. And for those few

hours every week, if he could lose

himself in me, I was only too happy

to oblige.

• • •

“Nice job,” Jason muttered around a

bite of roast beef sandwich.

“With what?” I asked, pouring

myself a second cup of coffee. It

was two in the afternoon, but being

thrust into the role of co-business

owners, Jason and I now knew what

schedule worked best for us. After

lunch we were just getting warmed

up for the day, and we often worked

late into the evening.

“For getting Shaw to take those

tourists out on his personal craft.”

“No problem.” I poured a hefty

amount of creamer in my mug,

turning it a nice honey shade. Just

the way I liked it.

“What’d you have to do? Blow

him?” he asked.

My eyes jerked over to his and

my heart started to pound. Did he

suspect something?

Jason smirked at me, then took

another bite of his sandwich. I let

out the breath I’d been holding.

Fuck, that was close. If he only

knew.

“Maybe Shaw’s finally starting

to get his shit together,” I said,

taking a sip of my coffee.

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“It’s been eight months,” I

added. Eight long months of falling

deeper and deeper in love lust with

my best friend. I couldn’t let myself

think about love. Not now. Maybe

not ever.

Shaw had been in love just

once, as far as I knew, with his wife,

Samantha, and look at how

tragically that ended for him. I

wasn’t about to stomp my foot and

make demands for something he

couldn’t give me.

“Geez, you’re jumpy today,”

Jason said, pulling me out of my

daydream.

I looked up at him. He’d set his

sandwich down on his plate and

was staring at me.

“What’s with you?” he asked.

It was Wednesday. “Nothing. I

just have a lot to do. I’ll talk to you

later.”

I grabbed my mug off the

counter and headed back to the

office. I knew I needed to focus as

best I could to get through a big

chunk of invoices before the

inevitable happened, a Wednesday

ritual I’d had for the last eight

months.

I knew Shaw’s schedule by

heart. He ended his workday

around five. After dinnertime, he

showered, changed, and then spent

an hour with his laptop, catching up

on the office work he neglected all

day when he was out on the dock.

Sometimes he had a beer or two,

and he always had the game on in

the background. Then, at about

eight, I’d expect a knock at my door.

It was our weekly ritual, and one I

looked forward to all week long.

Our rendezvous were somewhat

precarious because my cramped

one-bedroom apartment was

located directly above my family’s

inn. Jason lived on the lower floor

in the main house that contained

the offices too—which were just a

couple of converted bedrooms in

the back.

But if Jason happened to be

paying attention, he could have

seen Shaw creeping through the

overgrown trees and shrubs and up

the stairs to my place. I still didn’t

know if he walked or drove. I only

knew that his truck was never in

sight. And that so far, we hadn’t

been caught.

After finishing up a couple of

hours of work that afternoon, Jason

brought me a bottle of water and a

sandwich, which I ate while

reconciling last month’s receipts.

Then I made my way upstairs since

it was already after six.

Inside my place, I entered the

bathroom and cranked the shower

all the way to hot. It had been a hell

of a day, and I needed the release of

a steamy encounter. Double

entendre implied. I threw my hair

up in a messy bun and stripped

down as the little room filled with

steam. I stepped under the spray of

water, careful to keep my long hair

from getting wet. It would take

hours to dry, and if I didn’t manage

it with all sorts of products and flat-

ironing, it would be a horrible,

frizzy mess. No thank you.

I lathered my skin with the

lavender-mint bodywash I’d

splurged on during my last trip to

the mall in Miami, and let the

sensory experience transport me. I

felt light and free, almost reverent

as I stood there under the spray of

water. The anticipation of my

evening with Shaw was almost as

good as the event itself.

Soon I stepped out of the

shower, towel-dried my skin, and

applied a light layer of sesame

lotion. Then I drew a pair of high-

waisted white panties up my legs

and dressed in an oversized T-shirt

and my favorite yoga pants.

Lacy lingerie would have been

wasted on Shaw. He generally made

quick work of stripping me down,

and unless I insisted, I doubted he’d

even remove half of his own

clothes.

Good thing I insisted. He had

an incredible body. Plus, fucking

the daylights out of someone still

wearing a T-shirt and his jeans

down to his knees just wasn’t

intimate enough for me.

I freed my hair from its bun and

was combing the tangles out when I

heard his soft knock at my door.

Three subtle taps—all in quick

succession. He was early.

My heart kicked up speed. I

rounded the bed and nearly skipped

over to the front door. That was one

positive of living in a tiny studio—

everything from my bedroom to my

living space to my kitchenette was

within three steps.

Just as I made it to the door, it

opened. Shaw knew I never kept it

locked. The by-product of growing

up on a tiny island was that you

always felt safe and rarely locked

your doors.

He stood before me looking

sullen and intense. Handsome,

chiseled features. Defined jaw.

Pouty lips. His hair was the perfect

cross between dark sandy blond in

the sunlight and medium brown in

the dark of night, and today his eyes

were a brilliant green.

“It’s almost like you were

waiting for me.” He treated me to a

rare devilish grin.

The ass. Of course I was waiting

for him. I gave his chest a playful

shove, but rather than it pushing

him away, he stepped closer,

crossing the threshold to invade my

space. And my heart kicked up

speed again in anticipation.

He was my drug. Bold.

Intoxicating. Addictive.

“How was your day?” I asked,

trying to keep things light.

He gave me a panty-melting

grin, and that was when I knew

there wouldn’t be any pleasantries

tonight. I guess I wasn’t surprised.

He’d tried to fuck me in his office a

couple of days ago, totally taking

me by surprise. He must be

particularly wound up.

“My day was fine, Sunshine.

Now, come here.”

He offered me his hand, and I

took it. Sliding his grasp around my

wrist, he tugged me close so I was

right up flush against his chest. I

wondered if he could feel the

pounding rhythm of my heart. His

own heartbeat was steady and calm.

“You teased me the other day,”

he said, trailing one fingertip down

the side of my cheek. “Wearing that

little sundress. I wanted to hike it

up your thighs and watch you ride

my face.”

I shivered in his arms. “If you

expect me to say sorry, I’m not.”

He chuckled darkly. “As long as

you understand I’m going to make

up for it tonight.”

I nodded, keeping my eyes on

his. I loved this part of my week.

For these few hours, I mattered to

someone. I was a desirable creature

that drove an amazing man to near

madness with his want for me. The

feeling was potent, especially since

the rest of my life was a dull,

meaningless combination of work

and family obligations. I lived for

that dark, hungry look in his eyes.

He was looking at my lips, my

breasts, my skin like he wanted to

devour them. He was hungry—

starved inside—for love and

affection and sex. And he was

looking at me like only I could give

them to him. Gladly, my dear

sweet, lost man.

“Then you’d better strip out of

those tight little yoga pants so I can

taste you,” he murmured, his lips

brushing my neck.

I took a step back, and Shaw

moved to sit down on the edge of

my bed to watch the show.

First I drew my T-shirt up over

my head and dropped it to the floor

at my feet. His eyes followed my

movements, zeroing in on my bare

breasts, making me feel bold and

desirable. Then I pushed my hands

into the sides of my pants and

shoved them down my hips.

“Slow,” he warned. “And turn

around.”

I swallowed and turned so my

back was to him. Then I bent

forward at the hips and

simultaneously shoved my pants

and panties down to my ankles in

an erotic strip tease. I heard a hiss

of breath behind me.

“Fuck. Look at that pretty cunt

shaved bare just for me,” he

grunted.

A rush of heat raced over my

skin. I sure as hell never knew this

side to my childhood friend, Shaw,

never knew he had an absolutely

filthy mouth. But I fucking loved it.

Yes, I had showered and shaved for

him, making sure every inch of me

was ready for his erotic appraisal.

“That’s a beautiful sight, right

there.”

Feeling bold, I gave my

backside a little wiggle and then

began to rise slowly.

“Spread your ass apart for me,

beautiful.”

Say what now? My face flamed,

but he must have known by now

that I’d never directly refuse a

request. I placed my hands on

either cheek and showed him what

he wanted to see. My perverted

bastard.

A low groan rang out behind

me.

I turned finally and faced him.

“See something that you liked?”

“You know I did. That tight

pussy and ass are both begging to

be filled by me tonight.”

A coil of delicious heat swirled

low in my belly. That was

something we’d never done before.

“But first,” he curled his finger

and motioned for me to come near,

“I’m ready for that taste.”

He stretched back on my bed

and positioned me over him. Before

I had a chance to process what was

happening, I was sitting on top of

his face. And that’s just how things

worked with Shaw. No tender kisses

on the mouth. No sweet words or

longing glances. This man dived

straight into the action.

He spread my thighs apart and

positioned his face between my

legs. And then his warm tongue was

lapping at my center.

Holy fuck, this man was

talented with his mouth. Sparks of

white heat radiated from my center,

and I knew this wouldn’t take long.

My body throbbed with pleasure,

and I reached up to massage my

neglected breasts.

While I should have felt

embarrassed, because dear God, I

was literally riding his face, I didn’t.

My hips gyrated in time with his

tongue’s furious strokes, and still I

wanted more. I heard a clanking

sound and opened my eyes. Shaw

had undone his belt, and his hand

was on his thick cock, slowly

stroking up and down.

Transfixed, I watched as a drop

of fluid formed at the tip, and had

the desperate urge to lick it off.

Then he closed his lips over my clit

and sucked—hard, and I cried out in

bliss.

“Shaw . . .”

“That’s right. Take it, baby. I

want you to come apart.”

I pinched my nipples and

continued bucking against his face,

so wet I was dripping. Shaw

devoured me, his tongue lashing

beautifully against my sensitive

center, all while continuing to

stroke himself. It was too much. I

closed my eyes as the sensation

crashed through me. White light

stung my eyes and stole my breath,

causing my inner muscles to clench

as a powerful orgasm rocketed

through me. I fell forward onto his

torso, completely spent.

I heard the crinkle of a wrapper

and knew Shaw was about to sheath

himself in a condom. But first I

wanted my own taste . . .

Untangling my limbs from his, I

climbed down his body and turned

until I was facing my target.

Gripping his large cock in my right

hand, I cupped his taut sack with

the other. He raised up onto his

elbows to watch with dark, hooded

eyes.

Being with him, experiencing

his brand of wicked intimacy, made

me more daring than I’d ever been

before. He made me brave and bold.

Keeping my eyes on his, I

brought the tip of him to my

waiting mouth. I rubbed his

sensitive crown back and forth over

my flattened tongue while

massaging his balls, waiting for that

sound he made whenever I pleased

him. A small grunt, just a breath of

air pushed from his lungs, but it

was the best sound on the planet.

That sound had come to mean

everything to me. It meant he was

fully present, here in this moment

with me. Just me and him.

“Enough dicking around.” He

growled, lifting me up so I was

straddling his lap, with a smirk I

wanted to kiss right off his full, sexy

lips.

But I’d come to recognize that

look in his eyes. He didn’t like the

sweet, tender treatment I enjoyed

showering him with. He wanted it

hard and fast and furious. My

theory was that was the only way to

quiet all the discontent in his head.

It made my heart hurt for him, but

it also made me eager to please him

and give him what he so desperately

needed.

I waited for him to sheath

himself with the condom, and then

positioned myself over him.

“I need you hard tonight . . .” He

paused, his throat bobbing. “That

okay?”

He never asked. Never gave me

any indication that he was even

aware of how I might feel about our

encounters. I was taken aback for a

moment. He was giving me a

choice, and I wanted to make the

right decision.

“Whatever you need. I’m here,”

I assured him, bringing my palm to

his cheek and stroking lightly over

the stubble.

After a steely look, he captured

my wrist and restrained it behind

me. “Good. Then ride my dick.”

I aligned myself with him,

feeling the broad head of him flush

up against my wet center.

“Perfect,” he growled.

I took a deep breath, preparing

to impale myself with him—and

then paused. Took one last look in

his eyes and totally lost my nerve.

Chapter Four

Shaw

She hesitated.

We were right on the brink.

Right on the brink of ecstasy.

And she fucking hesitated.

“Sunshine?” I croaked. I felt

like I was going to burst if she

didn’t wrap me in her warmth.

Now. I was desperate in a way I

hadn’t been before, but I ignored

that new and emerging feeling

lurking in the background.

“What are we doing, Shaw?”

Her tone was as strained and

desperate as I felt. “This is wrong

. . . Isn’t this wrong?” Her delicate

features were painted with

confusion and anguish.

“We’re doing whatever the fuck

we want. We’re two consenting

adults, right?”

“Right,” she said, her voice

small and unconvinced.

“You’ve always been there for

me—all my life. How is this

different?” God, I was a selfish

prick. Giving her this little pep talk

only made me hate myself more.

“Of course I have, Shaw. It’s

just . . .”

“Just what? You don’t enjoy

this?” My words were too quick, my

tone too confident. I wasn’t sure if I

was trying to convince her or

myself.

She closed her eyes and took a

deep breath. She was still balanced

over my lap, so close, damp and

glistening, our bodies still ready

despite the turn in mood.

“I do. Of course I do. And that’s

what scares me,” she admitted.

Her words stung, but I couldn’t

allow myself to process them.

Couldn’t allow myself to absorb

them too deeply. Otherwise, I might

feel guilty about what I was doing.

No . . . I was a man on a mission

and I knew what I wanted. No,

needed.

When I cupped her breasts in

my palms, my thumbs stroking her

pebbled nipples, she released a soft

groan. “Then take me, baby. Take

me like only you can.”

I met her eyes and saw

everything I needed to know

reflected back in them. Her raw

desire radiated back at me, blinding

and powerful. She needed this just

as badly as I did, only I had no

fucking idea why.

Chloe took me in her hand—I

hadn’t softened even a little—and

she positioned me right at that

warm, soft spot I couldn’t wait to

bury myself in.

I tried not to be greedy—I swear

I did—but when she eased down

one inch, then two, and then

stopped, I almost fucking lost it.

Her muscles clenched around me

and she groaned, adjusting to my

size. Biting my lower lip, I knew I

was done holding back. She gave

and gave, and I took. I gripped her

hips and thrust up—hard—burying

myself balls deep in one violent

shove.

Chloe cried out and flattened

both of her hands against my abs.

“Jesus, Shaw.”

“You know you like it.” I thrust

up again, letting her take every solid

inch of me. I loved how she felt

around me. She was warmth and

perfection and sunshine all

wrapped up in one sweet package.

“I love it,” she said, correcting

me. “Do that again.”

I held her hips in place and

pounded up into her again and

again. Her tits bounced with the

force and we both cried out. I knew

she was close, and also knew that

meant I needed to slow down my

pace. But I wasn’t about to do that.

“You like riding that big cock.” I

rubbed her exposed clit in slow

circles and she moaned. “Just like

you rode my face earlier.”

She moaned again and circled

her hips over me.

“That’s right. Get it, baby. Just

like that.”

Soon I felt her muscles clamp

down around me. A few more

thrusts and she was coming—

coating me in her warm juices and

trembling in my arms. I followed

her over the brink, losing myself in

her until my mind was blank and

my body felt blissfully empty.

After disposing of the condom, I

tugged on my jeans and T-shirt.

“You all right?” I asked, slipping

my feet back into my shoes. My

heart was still pounding and my

skin slightly damp.

“Of course,” Chloe said, lifting

her chin. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“’Night, Sunshine.” I leaned

down where she still sat naked on

the center of her bed and pressed a

quick kiss to her forehead.

“Good night,” she murmured

and watched me leave with sad

eyes.

Fuck.

This was why I let myself

indulge only once a week—every

Wednesday. It seemed like a decent

compromise. I didn’t want to fuck

up totally and monopolize all of

Chloe’s free time. She didn’t sign up

for this. She was a beautiful, young,

single woman who needed to live

her life. So I treated myself as

infrequently as I could tolerate—

which was once every seven days.

I left without another word,

heading out into the dark of night.

The last thing I needed was her

brother seeing me. I was already

getting tired of the judgmental

glares he gave me when he noticed

Chloe tending to me like a stray

puppy.

As I crawled into my own bed

that night, spent and satisfied,

Chloe’s scent still clinging to my

skin, I knew I was going to sleep

like a baby.

I closed my eyes and replayed

images of our erotic evening. The

way her hair fell over one shoulder

while she rode me. The way her

tight, lithe body gripped mine when

she came. Damn.

Briefly I wondered if I should

feel guilty, if I should feel bad about

using her body for the escape it

provided. But I didn’t. Not even a

little. If she wanted to be there for

me in this way, I was content to let

her. For as long as she was willing.

I only wished I could stop this

fucking ache in my chest, especially

because I didn’t know if it was for

Samantha or Chloe.

Chapter Five

Chloe

“What’s going on with Shaw?” my

friend Courtney asked over the rim

of her third margarita.

“What do you mean?” I took a

sip of my own icy concoction,

feeling the innuendo behind her

question burning deep in my gut.

“It’s been eight months. Is he

dating anyone?”

There was no need for her to

clarify that statement. It had been

eight months since Samantha died.

Eight months since everything

changed. It had become the new

passage of time by which everything

was marked.

I shrugged. “I don’t think he’s

ready.”

It was Saturday night and we

were hanging out at Hank’s—a bar

in town. It wasn’t one of the tourist-

friendly places on the beach with

chic decor and expensive drinks. It

was just a hole-in-the-wall bar that

all the locals knew. Dusty black-

and-white photos of sunsets and

palm trees on the walls, and rickety

wooden bar stools scattered among

the dozens of high-top tables.

“I heard he’s seeing someone,”

our friend Lynne chimed in.

My temper rose to the surface.

He’d better not be. “Where did you

hear that?” I tried to keep the

emotion from my voice, but I

wasn’t sure I succeeded.

Lynne flicked her gaze out over

the sea of bodies. The hour was late

enough, or rather people were

intoxicated enough, that the center

of the room had turned in a

makeshift dance floor, just like it

did every Saturday night.

“From my hairstylist at my

appointment last week. Rumor has

it he has a new fuck buddy, but it’s

no one serious.”

My gut twisted painfully.

“Speak of the devil.” Courtney

snickered.

I followed her line of sight

toward the far end of the room.

Shaw stood at the bar, which was

packed three-deep, waiting to order.

He was tall enough, though, that he

towered over almost everyone.

I forced my eyes away. I hadn’t

heard from him since he left my

place Wednesday night, not that I’d

expected to.

“Whoever he’s fucking is his

business,” I muttered, taking solace

in my drink, which was now

running dangerously low.

I’d never considered the

possibility that he was sleeping with

someone else. The thought of him

seeking that level of intimate solace

with another girl made my chest

ache.

My gaze wandered toward the

bar again. Shaw was dressed in a

pair of dark jeans and a white T-

shirt, which he managed to make

look ridiculously sexy. The material

stretched taut across his sculpted

shoulders and chest, and the jeans

hung low on his hips.

I met his eyes and quickly

looked away. I hadn’t come here to

see him, hadn’t even known he

would be here. He rarely came out

anymore. I let myself take one more

quick peek just to see if he was still

watching me. He wasn’t. Good. He

dominated my thoughts ninety-nine

percent of the time. I needed this

downtime with my friends.

“Oh, shut it, Chloe,” Courtney

said. “If he is ready to start seeing

someone, you already know my

stance on this. You guys would be

perfect together.”

“Stop, please,” I begged her. I

couldn’t stomach listening to

another of her long speeches about

how Shaw and I would make the

perfect couple, or the cutest babies,

or any of her other nonsense.

Even if I agreed with her, it

wasn’t healthy to get my hopes up

about something that could never

be. He was my friend. And he was

still grieving. And in twenty-plus

years of knowing each other, he’d

never expressed any romantic

feelings for me.

Fucking was different. That was

just something we did. Opening

your heart, making a commitment

to someone—that was something

you chose. And Shaw seemed a long

way off from choosing anything

that would tie him down again.

“He’s just taking his time. He

has no interest in dating right now,”

I said, hoping to put this

conversation to death once and for

all.

“How do you know that?”

Lynne asked. “Have you guys talked

about it?”

“Well, no, but . . .” I paused. I

couldn’t say how I knew so much

about his love life without revealing

I was part of it. “He’s just not

ready.”

I signaled our waitress. I

needed a hell of a lot more tequila if

I was to make it through my so-

called friends’ prying questions.

“And what about you?”

Courtney asked, picking up the

scent of desperation hanging on me

like a dog. “Why haven’t you seen

anyone? You haven’t dated in

forever, Chloe.”

“Yeah, we should fix that,”

Lynne said, smiling the evil grin

that I knew meant she was on the

prowl.

“I’m good, you guys. Thanks for

your concern, but honestly,

between running the inn and being

there for Shaw, I just haven’t found

time.”

“Perfect.” Courtney grinned.

“No time like the present. There are

plenty of single men here tonight.”

“Not interested,” I bit out

through clenched teeth.

“Is there something going on

between you and Shaw?” Courtney

asked, tapping her chin.

“Of course not,” I blurted. I

proceeded to spend the next five

minutes trying to change the

subject, only to have it return to my

love life time and again.

“If there’s nothing going on,

why does Shaw look like he wants

to eat you alive?” Lynne asked.

I glanced over again. Dammit.

He was watching me with that

intense, angst-filled stare of his.

The one that said we’d be between

my sheets later, sweaty and

groaning.

Just then, our waitress

approached. “Ladies, these shots are

from the gentlemen at the bar.” She

tipped her chin toward a group of

twenty-somethings in the corner,

and then sat down three bright blue

shots on our table. “They’re called

Hawaiian Leg-Spreaders.”

“Bottoms up, girls!” Lynne said,

grabbing her glass and giving

Courtney’s a clink.

I lifted the glass to my lips and

when I looked up, it was right into

the eyes of Shaw. He was standing

directly across from our table, about

thirty feet away, quietly sipping a

beer and watching me. I got the

impression that he knew the shots

were from a group of guys, and he

was watching to see what I’d do.

I tipped the liquor into my

mouth and swallowed. If he

thought I was going to refuse a

drink from another man just

because he and I happened to be

sleeping together, he was wrong. In

fact, the way he was watching me,

like he was my appointed babysitter

for the evening, was pissing me off.

I continued chatting with my

friends but all under the intense

scrutiny of Shaw, who was casually

leaning at a table now a mere

twenty feet away.

“Come on. We have to go thank

those guys who bought us shots,”

Lynne said, sliding from her bar

stool a few minutes later, all five-

foot-nothing of her. She

straightened her halter top.

“Yeah, and maybe buy them a

shot in return. Something dirty . . .

like a Screaming Orgasm.” Courtney

chuckled.

I could feel Shaw’s intense stare

on me, and somehow knew if I

crossed the room to talk to those

men, he’d follow.

“You guys go ahead. I’ll catch

up to you.”

“Come on, Chloe!” Courtney

begged.

“I have to pee. Two minutes. I’ll

be right there,” I promised. I needed

to see what the hell was going on

with Shaw.

I hopped down off my bar stool

and started toward the restrooms.

From the corner of my eye, I saw

Shaw give chase but continued on

my path, ignoring the looming

presence I felt behind me.

He caught up to me in the

deserted back hallway, and I spun

around to face him.

“Why aren’t you over there

preening yourself in front of those

men like your friends are doing?”

he asked, cornering me.

I swallowed and thrust my chin

up, forcing my eyes to meet his. I

was met with a dark, angry stare.

“Because I’m not here to meet

men.” That was true. The reason?

The man I’d always desired stood

exactly two feet in front of me.

He made a murmured sound of

approval in his throat.

“And what about you? What are

you doing here?”

He shrugged, and I knew that

was the only answer I was going to

get.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me . . .” I

tried to sidestep around him to

head to the restroom, but two large

hands gripped my waist and forced

me up against the wall.

And then his mouth descended

on mine and he was kissing me—his

tongue probing, my lips parting and

knees weakening. He’d kissed me

only once since we were teenagers—

back that first time in the bathroom

at Samantha’s parents’ house. But

he was kissing me now and his

mouth was hot and sweet and

tender.

I kissed him back, sucking his

tongue and groaning into his mouth

when his steely erection nudged at

my belly.

Reckless. This was reckless.

Someone could see us.

Seconds later, his mouth was

gone. I blinked up into eyes alit

with passion. Then, before I could

process what was happening, he

pulled me farther down the hall. He

opened a door to a broom closet and

pulled us inside, where we were

surrounded by darkness and the

subtle scent of wood polish.

“Shaw, what are we—”

His mouth was on mine again

and the words died on my lips. His

kisses were unlike anything else.

Hot. Powerful. Intense. Just like his

personality. He nipped at my throat,

sucked on my lower lip, and gripped

my ass tightly in both hands. My

panties were already wet—forget

foreplay when I was with Shaw. It

wasn’t needed. My body was primed

and ready faster than with any man

who came before.

“Down on your knees,” his gruff

voice rumbled in my ear. “I want

your pretty pink lips around my

cock.”

His hands pressed down on my

shoulders, and when I fell to my

knees before him, I heard the pull

of his zipper come down. And then I

was taking his thick cock deep in

my throat, his musky scent

surrounding me, his murmured

groans spurring me on . . .

“Suck it deep,” he ordered, and I

obeyed.

Moments ago, I was hanging

out with my friends, innocently

sharing drinks. Now I was here,

doing this? Sometimes I confused

even myself.

“God, you’re perfection,” he

said on a groan, drawing me out of

my thoughts and into the moment.

One hand circled my throat, his

pressure light. “You let me defile

you, you dirty girl.”

I gazed up at him, my mouth

full. It went without saying that the

only reason I allowed him to defile

me was the outrageous amount of

trust between us.

A final grunt, and seconds later

he was coming, shooting hot jets of

semen down my throat and making

the most beautifully broken sound.

I swallowed. His salty, bitter

essence slid down my throat.

I was still reeling when he

pulled me to my feet, still trying to

figure out what had just happened

in the span of ten minutes. Then it

hit me—Shaw had marked me, had

needed to claim me as his.

“While I know you’d love for

me to suck on that hot little clit

until you came, I’m not going to. Go

back out there to your friends. And

don’t you dare let any of those men

touch you. Do you understand,

Sunshine?”

I nodded like the obedient little

slave I’d become.

“Good.”

The door opened and I was

thrust back out into the light.

• • •

When I woke the next morning,

shame and outrage burned hotly

through me as memories of what

happened in that storage closet last

night rushed to the surface.

Shaw had shown up when I was

out with my friends. And what . . .

he’d made me suck his cock just to

prove a point? His point being that

while another man might be flirting

and interested, I still belonged to

him. Except I didn’t.

While I had a lot of mixed

emotions about these games we

were playing, I’d never been mad at

Shaw. But today? I was fucking

livid.

I showered and combed out my

wet hair, dressed in shorts and a T-

shirt, and then made my way

downstairs in search of coffee.

Instead I found an empty

coffeepot and Jason standing in the

kitchen.

“Morning,” I grumbled,

grabbing the carafe and filling it

with water from the sink.

“Morning,” he said around a

mouthful of cereal. “Shaw find you

last night at Hank’s?”

“What?”

He shrugged, taking another

bite and chewing slowly. “He

stopped by here last night, asking

where you were. I told him you’d

gone to Hank’s. I assumed he went

there to find you.”

“Oh. Yeah. He found me,” I

said, my voice sounding robotic.

“We had a beer. No big deal.”

Lies. Last night he’d used me

and made me feel cheap.

Jason nodded. “Good to see him

going out and getting back into the

swing of things, I guess, huh?”

“Yeah,” I murmured.

The fact that Shaw had tried to

come out and find me last night

didn’t soothe my anger. Hell, he’d

probably only wanted his dick

serviced anyway. Perhaps that’s all I

was to him.

Hot tears stung my eyes. I

couldn’t let Jason see me cry, so I

mumbled something about getting

back to work and took off toward

my office in the back.

“But it’s Sunday . . . ,” Jason

called behind me.

It didn’t matter. I need to fill

my brain with invoices and bank

statements and web updates to

avoid sinking into my bed and

crying for the next eight hours

straight.

Chapter Six

Shaw

The haze of morning shed some

light on a few things. First, I’d acted

like a selfish prick last night.

Second, I was getting more and

more reckless with Chloe, and I

didn’t know how this web of deceit

I’d spun could possibly end well.

As I rose from the bed, my

mind turned over and over with

thoughts about what she could

possibly think of me. It was never

something that had plagued me

before, but after last night and my

very one-sided treatment of her . . .

I wondered if she saw me for what I

really was—the villain in our

twisted story.

Jason had agreed to come with

me today to pick up a new piece of

machinery I was buying for the

marina. And considering I’d slept

till noon, I sent him a text letting

him know I’d be late, which he’d

probably already figured out. Then

again, nothing about me was

reliable these days. Unless you

counted Wednesdays. I was always

prompt and punctual then. Fuck

yeah, I was.

By the time I’d showered,

dressed, and eaten, it was after one

o’clock. I pulled my truck to a stop

in front of Jason and Chloe’s place,

but I didn’t dare get out. I didn’t

know what I’d say to Chloe after

last night.

Moments later, Jason came out,

stuffing his cell phone and wallet

into the pockets of his jeans.

“Ready to roll?” I asked when

he climbed inside.

“Sure thing,” he replied, putting

his sunglasses on.

They were practically a staple in

your wardrobe if you lived in South

Florida. I had several pairs rattling

around in the glove compartment of

my truck at any given time.

“What’s new with Chloe?” I

asked as we drove.

He shot me a curious glare.

“Wouldn’t you know? She said you

guys met up at Hank’s last night.”

“Oh. Right.” I kept my gaze on

the road. “I just meant her overall

mood. How’s she doing today?”

The pregnant pause that

followed was awkward as hell. Okay

then.

“She’s fine, I guess,” he finally

said.

That was the end of my prying

questions.

When Jason and I arrived at the

warehouse, we had to wait for a few

minutes while Big Tony finished up

with another customer, so I decided

to pull out my phone and text Chloe

myself. The conversation in my

truck with Jason had me on edge.

HAW

: If last night was too

much for you . . . I’m sorry.

I got no response to my text,

and I wondered if maybe this time

I’d crossed the line. Perhaps silence

was her way of telling me she was

done.

I reread my text. It wasn’t a

full-on apology. I was saying if last

night was too much for her, then I

was sorry. Not that I’d acted like a

complete selfish prick and was truly

sorry for it.

Hell, I’d forced her down onto

her knees and stuffed my cock

down her throat until she gagged. I

should have been begging her to

forgive me, telling her I’d gone too

far. It was a fine line and one I was

tiptoeing the edge of.

“There’s something I need to

say,” Jason said once we were in the

cab of the truck with the pulley

system placed in the back, and my

wallet five hundred bucks lighter.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Your interest in Chloe . . .”

I bit the inside of my cheek to

avoid cursing. “What interest?

We’re friends, Jay—you know that.”

“People in this town talk. And I

hear things from time to time.”

Then he turned and looked over at

me as I drove. I kept my hands

steady at ten and two and my eyes

on the stretch of road in front of us.

“What are you doing with my

sister?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I heard something went down

between you two last night at

Hank’s.”

“Nothing went down.” The lie

slipped easily off my tongue. “I’d

never hurt Chloe.” Another lie. I

wanted it to be true, but I knew it

wasn’t.

“I know you wouldn’t,” he said

and his tone softened. “But she

looks at you like you walk on water,

and if I find out that you’ve been

fucking around with her, I’ll have

something to fucking say about it.”

“Absolutely. You’re her older

brother. That’d be well within your

rights.”

“Damn straight it would.”

We drove the remainder of the

way in silence, and when I dropped

him off, Jason muttered a cool, “See

ya.” Then he disappeared inside.

I was left with an uneasy

feeling in my gut, and still no

response from Chloe. Rather than

go home, I decided to pay a visit to

Abe. Unsurprisingly, he was sitting

on the back porch, doing another

crossword puzzle.

“Nothing better to do than

come bug an old man?” he asked

when I sat down, not even

bothering to look up at me.

I chuckled. “Something like

that.”

We sat in silence for a few

moments as I thought about what

to say next. There was something

about his style—the way he never

pried, but always quietly listened

and offered insightful advice that

made me want to open up to him

more than I did anyone else.

“I think Chloe’s pissed at me.”

“Did you give her a reason to

be?” he asked.

“Maybe.” Fuck. I took a deep

breath. “Probably.”

“That’s a yes.”

I nodded and let out a heavy

sigh.

“She’s special to you,” he said.

Of course she was. Abe knew

she and I grew up together.

“You’re a young man, Shaw.

You aren’t expected to hold a

memorial for your late wife for the

rest of your life. It’s okay to move

on.”

That surprised me, coming

from Abe. Sarah was his whole

world, and I knew he’d never even

considered looking for another

companion, despite how lonely he

was.

“When you’re ready,” he added.

“Yeah . . . someday,” I said.

I just wondered if someday was

going to come sooner than I was

ready for.

Chapter Seven

Chloe

When Shaw showed up

unexpectedly after work, I wasn’t

sure how to react. I’d blinked and

nodded, and then when he asked

me if he could come inside, I’d said

yes. Now we were sitting side by

side on the edge of my bed and my

heart was pounding like a bass

drum.

Hope-filled thoughts ran

rampant in my brain. Maybe it was

because it was a Monday, or

because it was still light outside, or

because of that apology text he sent

me, but part of me hoped he was

finally here to talk about something

real.

“Are you okay?” he asked,

watching me carefully. I was sure

he could see the way the wheels in

my brain were spinning out of

control.

“Fine. Why?”

“You never responded to my

text yesterday.”

I shrugged. “I know. I’ve been

busy.”

What a total lie. It had been

slow at the inn today. I wrote him

back six times and deleted the texts

before sending. I was trying to be

strong, and now it seemed that

maybe the strategy had worked.

Shaw chewed on his lower lip

and gazed out the window at the

blue horizon beyond our little

stretch of beach. He was

contemplative¸ and I wondered if

he was ready to open up to me after

closing me out emotionally for all

these months.

I decided to be bold and take

the first step. “I feel like there are

some things we should talk about.”

“Related to me and you?”

I took a deep breath. “No. About

you and Samantha. About you, and

how you’re doing.”

She had died on a Wednesday

night. The sobering thought kept

me awake at night, wondering if the

day of the week he always came to

me held a deeper significance, if the

empty spot in his heart was soothed

by my presence. I wanted to

understand more.

He ran his hands through his

hair and continued looking out the

window. “What’s there to say?”

“I just want to hear about how

you’re feeling, how you’re coping

with everything . . .”

I remembered back to six weeks

after the funeral. He’d asked me to

come by his place, and when I got

there, he asked if I would mind

taking all of Samantha’s things and

boxing them up. Her parents were

coming by that weekend to pick up

her stuff.

I figured it would have been too

painful for him to do, so of course I

said yes. That was the last time we’d

talked about her.

“I think you know, Chloe,” he

said, his gaze swinging over to me,

and a small chill raced down my

spine.

“Do you miss her?” I asked, my

voice small.

That day almost seven months

ago, Shaw took off in his boat while

I made my way through the small

house with only a half dozen

cardboard boxes to keep me

company. I boxed up her clothes,

makeup, and toiletries, and little

knickknacks out in the living room

that I knew weren’t his. Even her

toothbrush was still in its spot by

the sink, her pink razor in the

shower. I couldn’t imagine why he’d

waited six weeks to remove some of

the stuff.

I could only imagine how

difficult living with those constant

daily reminders had been. My guess

was that he’d loved her so

completely, he couldn’t bear the

thought of removing even the

tiniest of mementos, those items

she’d last held in her hands.

Strangely, she hadn’t been

wearing her wedding ring when she

died—a detail that was whispered

about at the funeral. It still sat in a

crystal dish on her dresser. That, I

left in its place, certain that Shaw

wouldn’t want to part with it. He’d

since sold the little house and now

slept in the back bedroom at his

marina. I had no idea what he did

with the ring.

I was still waiting for him to

answer.

“Sometimes,” he said finally.

It was a strange response, and

my brow crinkled.

“I just need to know you’re

okay,” I said, “and if you’re not

okay, that maybe you’re getting

there.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Okay?

You want to know if I’m okay?”

I nodded, careful to keep a

neutral expression.

“I shouldn’t be, right? Isn’t that

what people think?”

I kept mute. I had a feeling he

was on the verge of snapping if I

pushed too hard.

“Is that what you think too,

Chloe? That I’m destined to become

this grieving, hardened widower

incapable of feeling real happiness

ever again?”

“Of . . . of course not.” I found

my voice. “I just want you to know

that I’m here to listen if you ever

want to talk.”

He grunted out a response.

It was always this way. Just as I

started to gain some traction with

him, he shut down the

conversation.

We sat on my bed with the low

hum of the TV in the background

and talked about mundane things.

The new Cuban restaurant that

recently opened in the downtown

district, the hurricane season that

had almost come to an end without

even a blip on the radar. I began to

relax a little more, my shoulders

not so tense now.

“And how about you. How are

you feeling?” he asked after a

moment of silence with just a hint

of a smirk on his lips.

His question was so

unexpected, I stuttered, “W-what do

you mean?”

“Is work okay? Business good

with the inn?” he asked.

“All that’s fine.”

He nodded. “And your brother?”

“Fine.”

“And your friends?”

“Good.” What is with the game

of twenty questions?

He nodded. “And us?”

I sighed, then took a deep

breath. I’d feared this was coming.

“I’m glad that I can be here for you

to help, but—”

“But,” he interjected, his tone

solemn.

I swallowed heavily. “But . . .

sometimes I wonder if being here

for you in that way really helps at

all.”

His fingertips raked along my

jawline. “You’re all I have.”

It was a rare, sweet moment,

and I savored it. “I’m here for you,

always will be. It’s just . . .”

“Just what?”

He pulled us down so we were

lying down on the mattress. My

heart started to pound.

“It scares me sometimes . . .

this secret connection we have.”

He gave no reaction, no

indication he knew what I was

talking about. He just watched me

with his dark, hungry eyes.

“I love the way you fuck,” he

murmured, trailing his fingertip

down my neck. My heart rate

spiked, even though I hated how he

always managed to turn our

encounters sexual. I knew what was

coming.

“I have my period,” I said.

“And that’s a problem, why?”

His answering grin was predatory

and dominating. “You still have two

other holes.”

“God, you’re a pig!” I sat up and

threw a pillow at him.

“I’m kidding, woman.” He sat

up too. “Are you . . . feeling okay?

Need anything?”

“I’m fine, Shaw. I’m just not in

the mood.” At least that much was

true.

“Understood. Does this have

anything to do with the other night

at Hank’s?”

“No. Of course not,” I lied.

It definitely did, but I wasn’t

even sure how to put it into words

for him. Our flings had crossed into

a gray area that where instead of

feeling like I was helping him to

heal, it felt like he was merely using

me. And what lesson had he been

trying to teach me? That he didn’t

want me talking to other men?

Given our current non-committed

status, that wasn’t going to fly with

me either.

“I said I was sorry about that,

Sunshine.” His tone was softer, the

glint in his eyes more sincere. “If I

could return the favor to you right

now, I would.”

“And you’d expect nothing in

return?” I said, challenging him.

“Not a thing.”

Okay . . . now I was even more

confused about how to feel. But for

the time being, I stuck to my guns. I

needed a break to clear my head.

“Honestly, that’s not why I’m

here, anyhow.”

“No?” I lifted one eyebrow at

him.

“You never responded to my

text. I really did feel bad about how

I acted at Hank’s. I might have had

too much to drink that night.”

I waved him off. “I’m over it,

Shaw. Let it be.” It was mostly true.

I couldn’t stay mad at him long.

He nodded.

“Do you want to stay for a little

while? Have a glass of wine?”

I nodded toward the tiny

countertop in what I affectionately

referred to as The World’s Smallest

Kitchen. My brother had remodeled

the one-bedroom suite upstairs last

year into a studio by installing a

mini-fridge and one stretch of

countertop along a wall that held a

microwave and my hot plate.

Exciting stuff. But at least now I

had my own space.

“Sure. Why not?” Shaw

shrugged.

I hopped up from the bed and

grabbed the bottle of red I’d opened

earlier, thinking tonight was going

to be a pity party for one. I poured

us each a glass and carried them

back over to the bed where Shaw

was seated.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip. I

knew he wasn’t a red wine guy, so

the fact that he was here, choosing

to stay, choosing to spend time with

me when sex wasn’t on the table,

felt like a big deal.

“Thanks for staying.”

I hated the desperate lilt to my

voice, but I had to remember that

I’d been strong tonight. There

wouldn’t be any sex. Just two

friends reconnecting. Maybe this

was the way to get him to see there

could be more between us.

Maybe.

But it felt like a start. One I

didn’t want to squander.

I took a sip of my wine and

contemplated what to do, when it

suddenly struck me.

I had to do the only thing I

knew would ensure I didn’t give in

to him. Wednesday night after

work, I had to go out.

Chapter Eight

Shaw

The heat from the late afternoon

sunshine beat down on my back. I’d

been helping my crew clean boats

all afternoon and was regretting not

using sunscreen.

“Nice job today,” I said, tipping

my ball cap as the newest member

of my crew grabbed the last of the

gear and trash left behind in a

pontoon rental.

“Thanks, boss,” he said, hefting

the items out past me and scurrying

away.

With the bright sunlight, the

gentle hum of the waves, the

occasional call from a seagull, you’d

think my thoughts would have been

serene and tranquil. My mind was

on other things, however. The deep,

dark void inside me that sought

solace in the company of Chloe. She

was my sanctuary. And since she

denied me the last time we were

together, I was more than ready to

be done with work for the day to

partake in our ritual.

After a quick shower, I swung

by that taco stand Chloe liked and

picked us up some chicken-and-

quinoa tacos with the green salsa

she loved, along with a six-pack of

beer, and headed to her place. It

was just after six o’clock, and while

I was early, I knew her routine well

enough to predict that she was done

with her workday and probably

upstairs showering. That was fine. I

could have a beer and wait.

Except there was no answer at

her door. I sent her a text as I made

my way downstairs. Maybe she was

still working, or just hanging out

with her brother. I knocked at the

door to the main house and stood

there holding our dinner. No

answer there, either.

I peered through the window. It

was quiet and still inside. What the

hell? It was Wednesday, wasn’t it? I

checked my phone again and saw

there was still no response from my

text.

Calling Jason was risky, but

fuck it. I was too far gone to care.

He answered after the third

ring. “Yeah?”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Your sister. I swung by and no

one was home.”

“No clue. Did you . . . need

something?” he asked.

“Not really. I just grabbed some

tacos from that place she liked,

wanted to stop by.” That much was

true, and seemed innocent enough.

“So you haven’t eaten yet?”

“No. Why?” I looked down at

the bag of food in my hand.

“Because I have an idea . . .”

• • •

Ten minutes later I pulled into the

parking lot of a well-known tourist

bar. You know the type—little picnic

tables right on the beach, fruity

drinks with colorful paper

umbrellas, and plenty of toned,

tanned skin as far as the eye could

see.

I hadn’t been here in years. The

place was a meat market, and I had

no interest in picking up some

random girl, trying to make

conversation and watching her face

fall when I explained why I was

single. Yet somehow here I was. At

Jason’s request. I felt my temper

rising, and the urge to punch

something flared inside me, yet I

put one foot in front of the other

and headed toward the back patio.

“Over here,” Jason called, rising

from his seat to wave at me.

Reluctantly I started toward

them. He was seated next to a

brunette, with his hand on her

knee. Across from them, a blonde

was perched in her chair, her legs

crossed, looking bored. She was

apparently the reason I was here.

“Hey, thanks for coming.” Jason

reached out to give my hand a

casual shake.

“Sure.” I was promised free

dinner and drinks, and Jason said

I’d be bailing him out of an

awkward situation. The bastard. I

didn’t sign up for some fucking

double date.

“This is Sara,” he said, looking

fondly at his date. “And that’s

Lindsey.” He grinned at me with a

smile that said you’re welcome.

“Hey,” I grunted, sliding down

into the open seat next to Lindsey.

“Another round,” Jason said

cheerily, signaling the waitress

passing by.

Good fucking thing too. I

needed a drink—or ten—right about

now.

“Ladies, this is Shaw. As I

mentioned before, he owns the big

marina down on Lancaster

Boulevard.”

He’d apparently been talking

me up. I didn’t own the place—my

parents did—but I didn’t argue.

“That must be so nice, working

near the water all day,” Lindsey

commented, shifting closer to me.

I looked at her for the first

time. She actually appeared as out

of place as I felt. Maybe she wasn’t

any happier about this setup than I

was. She had shoulder-length blond

hair styled in loose waves and wide-

set blue eyes. She was cute in a sort

of innocent, girl-next-door way.

“I love the water, so it’s perfect

for me,” I responded. “I couldn’t

imagine working in an office all day.

I’d rather be outside in the sun and

the breeze.”

“Oh, I agree. I work for a florist,

and we have a booth at the farmer’s

market. I love it.”

“Cool.” I found myself smiling

at her. “Are you hungry? I haven’t

eaten yet.” The bag of tacos I’d

bought for Chloe were stuffed into a

trash can outside.

“I’m starved. And they have the

best coconut shrimp here, with the

most amazing creamy mango

dipping sauce.”

Just then the waitress returned

with our drinks—fruity, frozen

concoctions for the women and pint

glasses of beer for Jason and me.

“Two orders of coconut shrimp

and a side of fries, please,” I told the

waitress, and then directed my gaze

at Lindsey. “Anything else?”

“An ice water,” she added.

“Make that two,” I said.

Jason ordered a burger, and

when his date asked for a side salad

with low-fat dressing on the side,

Lindsey and I exchanged a

conspiratorial grin, knowing we

were moments away from sharing

deep-fried goodness. With creamy

mango sauce.

Soon our food arrived and while

we ate, I found the conversation

flowed easily between Lindsey and

me. It had been a long time since

I’d been in the presence of a woman

other than Chloe, and found it was

quite like riding a bike. We chatted,

drank some more, and later shared

a slice of key lime pie.

There was no fucking, no

escaping the grief completely, but

still, a much better night than if I’d

gone home alone.

Chapter Nine

Chloe

I had a bad feeling stewing in the

pit of my stomach and I couldn’t

figure out why.

“Where were you last night?”

Jason asked as I poured myself a

cup of coffee.

I was intent on getting our

social media pages up to date this

morning, a task I always put on the

back burner. Because there was

always something else more

pressing that needed to be done.

“Nowhere special. I ran some

errands. Got my eyebrows waxed.

Nothing exciting. Why?”

He grabbed a mug from the

cupboard and joined me near the

coffeepot to wait for it to finish

brewing. “Because apparently Shaw

stopped by here last night with your

favorite tacos and when you weren’t

home¸ he called me.”

Tacos? Calling my brother,

looking for me? This was not the

sex-starved, one-track-mind Shaw I

knew. I’d made it a point not to be

home last night, but now my heart

ached.

“And what did you tell him?”

He shrugged. “Told him I didn’t

know where you were, but I invited

him out to a double date with me

and Sara. She’d brought her

roommate Lindsey, so it worked out

perfectly.”

My heart leaped into my throat.

“And did he go?”

“Yeah. They got along great,

actually.”

“How great?” I narrowed my

eyes, my stomach turning over.

Jason studied me for a beat

before continuing. “After dinner,

they left for a different bar to grab

another round—just the two of

them.”

All the air felt like it had been

sucked from my lungs, and I braced

my hands against the counter,

trying to breathe. Fuck. Why in the

hell had I lied the other night—told

him I was on my period? And then I

had the grand plan to leave last

night—to ditch our Wednesday

tradition—all because I’d read in

one of those stupid women’s

magazines about absence making

the heart grow fonder, and the idea

that holding out on your man might

actually get him to fall harder.

Wrong. What ill-fated advice.

My absence apparently sent him

straight into the arms of another

woman.

“I have things to do,” I

muttered. “Talk to you later.”

I made my way out of the

kitchen, coffee mug in hand. I said I

needed to get to work, but what I

really needed was to be alone.

• • •

If he’d just had a meaningless one-

night stand, it might have hurt less.

I knew how cold and detached Shaw

could be about sex. He probably

never would have talked to her

again.

But going to dinner with a

woman? An actual date? That

wasn’t something even he and I had

done. And his past was riddled with

long-term monogamous

relationships, which was what

really scared me about this date. It

signaled that maybe he was on his

way toward moving on—with

someone other than me.

After spending the morning

updating our inn’s social media

accounts and answering a slew of

inquiry e-mails, I decided to text

Shaw.

HLOE

: Sorry about last night.

But it sounds like you kept

yourself entertained.

I couldn’t help the snarky tone

in my message. We’d never had a

spat, a lover’s quarrel, or even a

disagreement as friends, and I

wondered if we were about to

experience our first. After all, I was

the one who ditched out on him last

night. But him spending time with

another woman wasn’t a scenario I

ever imagined.

HAW

: Yeah, sorry about that.

Something came up.

HLOE

: And by something, you

mean Lindsey.

HAW

: Ah, shit, thanks for that.

I couldn’t remember her name.

;)

I tossed my phone down onto

the desk and growled out a curse

word. He had to be the most

frustrating, infuriating man on the

planet.

I’d spent eight long months

lusting after him, giving him every

piece of my body and soul, not to

mention my heart. I’d grown closer

with him than I even thought

possible. Afraid to admit the truth,

even to myself, I knew I had fallen

in love with him. And now this?

My phone chimed, signaling a

new text. I rolled my eyes and

grabbed my phone.

HAW

: So, where were you last

night . . . hot date or

something?

I chewed on my lip, half of me

wanting to lie to him and say yes,

make him think I was out with

another man. But I knew it wasn’t

the right thing to do. I swallowed

my pride and replied.

HLOE

: No, just needed a break.

I wondered how he’d interpret

the message . . . that I needed to put

some distance between him and

me? That I needed some time off

from our Wednesdays together? As

I reread the words on the screen,

my heart sank. It was just the type

of response to send him running

into the arms of another woman. I

felt raw and vulnerable and scared

as I waited for his response.

HAW

: Okay.

After that, he didn’t reply and I

didn’t know what to type back, so I

shoved my phone in my purse and

ignored it the rest of the day.

• • •

“Are you sure this is a good idea?

He’s leaving in a month, right?” I

asked.

“Exactly. That’s why this is

perfect. It’s a low-risk commitment

with a finite end date. It’s the

perfect thing to get you back up on

the horse.”

I winced. Courtney sounded

like she’d rehearsed this speech

before we met. We were sitting

inside our favorite coffee shop. The

floors were concrete and the walls

were lined with shelves of dusty

books; there was nothing fancy

about it. But they had damn good

coffee and the best fresh-baked

cinnamon rolls in the world. They

were as big as a dinner plate and

held a mountain of cream-cheese

frosting. I appreciated a hefty

frosting-to-cinnamon-roll ratio. Not

to mention the whole place smelled

like vanilla and cinnamon.

I cut another piece from the

breakfast (dessert) we were sharing

and licked the frosting from my

fork while thinking it over.

“He’s a really nice guy, and cute

too,” Courtney said, smiling at me

hopefully.

I wanted to answer her, but I

hated that my decision hinged on

whether Shaw was planning to see

that girl Lindsey again. If he was, I

knew the best thing to do would be

to force myself to move on.

And this guy, Bryan, who was a

new marketing associate for the

small company Courtney worked

for, would be in town for the next

month while he shadowed the

owner. Then he’d be heading back

to Miami, where he’d work

remotely.

“Let me see his picture again,” I

said.

Courtney typed his name in a

social media site and handed me

her phone. “He’s adorable. You

can’t deny that.”

I studied his features—light

blue eyes, longish blond hair that

hung into his eyes, a wide smile

displaying perfectly straight teeth.

God, why couldn’t I feel something

looking at him? Intrigue. Hunger.

I’d settle for even mild interest.

I shrugged and handed her

phone back. “He is cute. I’ll think

about it, okay?”

“Your loss. He won’t stay single

long. Once word gets ’round there’s

fresh meat in town—cute, funny,

and has a good job—you know

someone will snatch him right up.”

She was right. Pickings were

slim around here.

“If you like him so much, you

date him,” I fired back, getting

slightly annoyed that a girl couldn’t

enjoy her massive cinnamon roll in

peace.

“I told you, there’s no way. I

wouldn’t want to start something

with someone I work with.”

I’d wanted to tell her about

Shaw and me so many times, and

never more than right now. The

idea of opening up and unloading

this burden off my chest sounded

appealing, as did getting some

honest advice about what the hell

his confusing stops and starts all

meant.

But the urge to guard our secret

won out, and I changed the subject

to the new book I was reading

instead. It felt safe. And right now,

being safe seemed a hell of a lot

more important than following my

forbidden dreams.

Chapter Ten

Chloe

Shaw hadn’t texted me again, or

called, or swung by. His silence was

deafening. And his absence from

my days left a hole in my heart. But

wandering through my days

knowing I was the one who’d driven

him away? That stung the worst of

all.

Everything was right on the

surface, every memory so fresh and

raw it stung when I thought of him.

But so many of my memories

included him. The sight of him in

his favorite baby-blue swim trunks

when we learned to surf, his green

eyes smiling with joy when he

caught a wave. Then the darker

memories. The vacant look on his

face at the funeral as the casket was

lowered into the ground. I wanted

to take that all away, replace it with

new memories.

My heart was my own worst

enemy. And the traitorous bitch was

playing for keeps. I’d been so

desperate to hear him tell me I

meant everything to him, to hear

him say he couldn’t live without me

and dreamed about turning this

into something real like I did.

In all the many months we’d

messed around in secret, I’d

fantasized that I could be the one to

fall asleep with his arms around me

every night, and be the one to slip

my hand inside his boxers when he

woke, restless, in the night, to

soothe him as only I could. I

wanted to share meals and laughs,

and watch TV together. I wanted to

build a life with him.

Instead, I was getting ready for

a date with another man. Bryan

McDuff—the guy my friend

Courtney had set me up with when

I finally relented. I’d said yes

mostly to get her off my back, and

because I didn’t have an answer for

why I wouldn’t go. As far as she

knew, I was single. And I was.

Which haunted me.

I checked my appearance in the

mirror. I was dressed in a pair of

jeans, sandals, and a long-sleeved T-

shirt. The month of October had

brought with it cooler air. I’d blow-

dried my hair straight and applied

light makeup. I was as ready as I’d

ever be.

Bryan and I were meeting at an

outside park pavilion for a concert.

A local bluegrass band was playing

tonight, and I’d heard them once or

twice. They were pretty good, but

mostly I thought this date would be

a better venue than sitting across

from a strange guy in a quiet

restaurant, trying to make

conversation. Listening to music, in

my mind, equaled less awkward

conversation.

At the last second, I thought

about backing out, thought about

calling the whole thing off. But then

I checked my phone and there was

still nothing from Shaw . . . so, off I

went.

I recognized Bryan from the

picture Courtney had showed me

and waved at him from across the

park as I made my way across the

expense of grass separating us.

“Hey, you made it,” he said,

sounding surprised.

“Of course. It’s nice to meet

you.” I offered him my hand and he

shook it. “Should we find

somewhere to sit?” Parking had

taken longer than I thought and the

park was filling up—blankets and

lawn chairs were scattered in the

area around us.

“Sure. Back here, I was

thinking.”

Bryan turned and led the way

off to the side of the small

amphitheater. I tossed him one end

of the beach blanket I’d been

holding under my arm, and he

helped me spread it out.

“I brought dessert and wine.

Hope it’s okay?” Bryan said, settling

in beside me.

“That sounds great.” Ten points

for being thoughtful. Ten more for

being even cuter in person than I’d

imagined. He had a dimple on the

left side of his mouth when he

smiled—which was often.

He opened a small cooler and

pulled out two mini-bottles of

chilled white wine.

“Hope you don’t mind drinking

out of the bottle,” he added,

twisting off the top and handing me

one.

“Not at all.” I accepted it and

took a small sip. It was crisp and

refreshing.

“I also hope you don’t mind

that I have no idea if this pairs with

the wine, but it looked so good I

didn’t care.” He smiled again and

set a container holding a thick slice

of cake, along with two spoons,

down on the blanket. “White

chocolate cheesecake.”

“That looks amazing.”

I accepted a spoon and we both

dug in. I was thankful that so far,

there hadn’t been any

uncomfortable silences or fumbling

attempts at conversation, either.

Things were just flowing.

As we shared the dessert, I

filled Bryan in on my parents’ inn

and the work Jason and I did there,

and he told me about the job he was

here training for. We talked a little

about Courtney, and a little about

living on Marathon Key.

Soon the band began to play

and the wine worked its magic,

relaxing me from the inside out.

Courtney had been right. Maybe

this wasn’t so bad.

• • •

After about a two-hour set, the band

wrapped up and Bryan walked me

to my car. He hugged me good-bye

and said he’d like to see me again. I

nodded my head and told him I’d

had fun. It wasn’t a lie. I had. He

wasn’t Shaw, but then again, Shaw

wasn’t mine.

All these months I’d told myself

that Shaw just wasn’t ready for a

relationship. But if he was dating

again, I could no longer pretend

that was the reason he didn’t want

to be with me. Maybe it came down

to a simple question of

compatibility. I was fine to fuck

around with, but not good enough

to date.

When I arrived home, the lights

inside were off, so instead of going

to talk to my brother, I climbed the

stairs to my apartment. It was after

ten o’clock but I wasn’t yet tired.

Maybe I’d call Courtney and give

her the play-by-play I was sure she

was dying for.

I opened my door and flipped

on the lights. The scent of cologne

lingered lightly in the air, and I

knew I wasn’t alone.

“Shaw?” I turned and saw him

standing in the corner of my

bedroom.

“Hey, Sunshine. How was your

date?”

“It was fine.” He must have

asked my brother where I was.

“Is this how it’s going to be

now? Each of us dating?” he asked,

stepping closer.

I shrugged. I wanted to stick

out my tongue and say you started

it, but somehow didn’t think he’d

appreciate such a childish response.

“I’m not sure how things are

going to be,” I said instead. “Why

don’t you tell me?”

Shaw said nothing, and I hated

the anxiety I felt as the silence grew

between us.

“A friend set me up with

someone new that she works with,”

I said, stepping out of my sandals

and placing my purse beside the

door. It wasn’t like I’d gone out

seeking a hookup, so as far as I was

concerned, Shaw couldn’t get his

boxers in a twist over this.

“You think I don’t know that?

You think I didn’t thoroughly check

this prick out before you went out

with him?” His voice rose a little,

his anger simmering just below the

surface.

“He wasn’t a prick. He was a

nice guy, in fact.”

Shaw lifted his chin, his gaze

going up to the ceiling for a second.

“So you’re going to see him again.”

It wasn’t a question, and I

didn’t answer.

“I don’t know what’s going on

between us, Shaw. How do you

expect me to know how to navigate

this whole situation?”

He stalked closer until he

crowded me right up against the

bed. The back of my knees hit the

mattress and I sat down, Shaw

looming over me.

“I expect you to give me what I

crave.”

I swallowed heavily and my

gaze drifted from his down to his

belt buckle. I hated how easily I

caved, how quickly my body

responded to his rough voice and

sexual commands.

“I’m here for you. You know

that. I just sometimes need more,

Shaw,” I pleaded.

“More?” His voice was filled

with questions.

“Yes. I think of you when you

leave. I want to know how you’re

doing, really, and what goes

through your mind when you’re

with me.”

Using two fingers under my

chin, he tipped my face up to his.

“You want to know what goes

through my head?”

I nodded.

His fingers lightly stroked my

cheek and I leaned into his touch.

“You’re perfection. You make

me feel alive. You give me

everything I need, and I don’t

deserve any of it. That’s what goes

through my head.”

“We both deserve to be happy.”

My heart was beating wildly, and I

wanted nothing more than my

words finally to sink in.

“I know I can’t stop you from

dating, but fuck if I don’t want to,”

he added.

I wanted to tell him that he

could. He could say the words I’d

longed to hear—ask me to be his

and I’d never date anyone else ever

again. I’d been secretly waiting for

him to make me his for the past ten

years.

Shaw unbuckled his belt and

leaned down to kiss me. My hands

scrambled to help him free his

engorged cock and I began stroking

him, pumping both hands up and

down as his tongue swirled with

mine. A deep primal grunt sounded

in his throat, and I took deep

satisfaction in that sound. My

panties dampened and I stroked

harder, faster, becoming greedy for

his release, even more so than for

my own.

“Enough,” he growled.

My jeans and panties were

stripped from my legs as I

scrambled up onto the bed, coming

to rest against the pillows, my

breathing ragged and my heart

slamming against my ribs.

“Are you wet for me already?”

He brought one finger to my

opening and eased it in slowly. “My

girl gets nice and wet for me.”

My girl. Did he not know how

badly his words killed me? Gutted

me from the inside out?

“Kiss me,” I murmured.

Kissing wasn’t something we

commonly did, but I needed his

mouth on mine. I wouldn’t make it

through this if I had to listen to his

endearments. Where was the

brutal, hardheaded, unattached

man I was used to?

He brought his mouth down to

mine and kissed me deeply. Adding

a second finger, he increased his

rhythm, stroking that spot deep

inside me that only he had found,

sending me spiraling out of control.

I clawed at his back and gripped

his length, moving my hips in time

with his fingers.

Panting, I said, “Right there . . .

yes, yes . . .”

God, it was insane how badly

my body had missed him.

His mouth moved to my neck

as his fingers continued pushing me

over the edge. “You can go on your

little dates, but no one else is going

to make you come. You can count

on that,” he growled.

At his words, I came apart, an

intense orgasm crashing through

me harder than ever before.

Blinding white spots danced in my

vision as my body trembled and

quaked.

When I opened my eyes, Shaw

was kneeling on my bed between

my spread legs, expertly sheathing

himself in a condom.

“I’m going to fuck you harder

than you’ve ever been fucked.” He

brought the tip of his cock to my

opening and pushed forward.

I moaned, lifting my hips. “Yes,

just tell me what you need . . .”

“I want you to feel me all the

way until next week. So you know

it’s me who’s been inside you and

no one else.”

He slid all the way inside me—

not just into my body, but into my

soul. And I knew I was fucked in

more way than one.

Chapter Eleven

Shaw

“Thanks for doing this again,” Jason

said, pulling open the door to the

restaurant.

“Yep.” I tucked my hands in my

pockets and headed inside.

The restaurant had an upscale

beachy vibe. White tablecloths and

candles burning in lanterns around

the room. An ocean view from the

tables facing the large windows. The

music playing in the background

was laced with steel drums. None of

that ambience changed the fact that

I didn’t want to be here.

“So, are you interested in

Lindsey?”

“Nope.”

He turned to look at me. “Then

why are you here, dude?”

Why was I here? Because I felt

guilty keeping my relationship with

his sister a secret? Maybe.

“For the free food, of course.” I

spotted the women at a table near

the windows and made my way

toward them.

When she spotted me, Lindsey

rose to her feet and gave me a hug.

“Good to see you again.”

“You too,” I said.

Jason and his date shared a

quick kiss, and then we were all in

our seats.

I didn’t want to lead Lindsey on

—I wasn’t interested in being

anything more than friends, so I

knew I needed to play this carefully.

But Jason had dragged me out

tonight, and so the bastard owed me

a filet mignon and lobster tail

dinner.

Just as it had the first time, the

conversation flowed easily between

Lindsey and me. Jason kept the

drinks coming, and when the bill

came, he paid for everyone, ending

the awkward debate going on in my

head about Lindsey having to pay

for herself.

Even though I was having a

good time and it felt good to laugh,

something was missing. The peace I

felt deep in my soul when I was

with Chloe wasn’t there. It was like

I knew I was settling. Nothing

compared to the way things felt

with Chloe.

It wasn’t like I fucked her

because it felt good and trading a

few orgasms made my day brighter.

No, I fucked her so my soul could

be at peace for that one hour. And I

craved that feeling like an addict

craved his drug. My drug of choice

was my best friend, naked and

writhing beneath me. Did that make

me a monster? Maybe.

But hell, her deep, drugging

kisses made me lose all sense of

right and wrong. I didn’t know that

I was ready to give that up.

“Well, I’m sorry to cut this

short,” I said, rising from my chair.

Our last drinks were still half-

full, but after checking my phone

for the previous hour, I was itchy

and needed to get out of there. The

other reason I’d agreed to come

tonight? Jason had let it slip that

Chloe had a second date with that

Bryan guy.

“You’re leaving now?” Lindsey

asked, her voice rising.

“Yeah, sorry. Something came

up.”

I pointed at my phone before

shoving it in my pocket. Her face

fell, but it was better that we cut

ties now before she got attached.

After getting out of the stuffy

restaurant, I untucked my shirt and

did what I was trying to avoid all

night. I drove straight over to the

park where I knew Chloe was on

her date. That local band was

playing again and Jason had said

she’d be here.

I positioned my truck so that I

had a view of the park, then killed

the headlights. Letting my eyes

adjust, I scanned the crowd.

Colorful picnic blankets and lawn

chairs were scattered around the

grass. The sun had set an hour ago,

but the lighting along the perimeter

of the lawn provided enough light

to see by.

It took me a few anxious

minutes to spot her. Her head was

thrown back in laughter, her eyes

alight with something wondrous—a

look I certainly hadn’t put on her

face in a long time.

A flash of guilt ripped through

me. I should have been happy for

her—let her go and explore this guy

who might actually be right for her.

But the asshole in me wouldn’t give

her up without a fight.

I continued watching as my

heart pounded in the quiet cab of

my truck. The guy did look like a

decent dude, so I couldn’t really

fault him. He was clean-cut and was

seated at a polite distance away

from her—not touching her, thank

God for him. I might have lost it,

rushing over there like some

freaking jealous boyfriend and

ripping them apart. I took a deep

breath, forcing myself to stay calm.

Fuck. I hated this. Hated not

knowing what they were talking

about, what she was saying, what

had made her laugh, what she was

thinking.

She was on a fucking date

because I wouldn’t claim her. But

that was because she deserved

better than me. So, what was I

doing sitting there in my truck,

watching her on her date? Spying

on her. The feeling in my chest was

real. Tightness like I’d never felt. I’d

lost my wife and I still didn’t feel

what I did now, watching Chloe

with another man. Her smile, her

laughter, her touches—they should

have been mine.

A few minutes later, they

seemed to be wrapping up—him

putting some empty bottles and

containers into a backpack, her

rising to her feet and folding the

blanket they’d been sitting on.

I gripped the steering wheel and

watched as they crossed the park,

heading straight toward me. I’d

spotted her car a couple of rows

down from where I’d parked. His

must be nearby too.

As they walked, he reached over

and took her hand. Then she looked

up and her eyes caught mine, and

she dropped his hand immediately.

I felt like fist-bumping

someone. It felt like the tiniest of

victories. Until I saw the daggers

shooting at me from Chloe’s eyes.

I opened the door and stepped

out of my truck, taking a few steps

toward the happy couple. A few feet

from them, I stopped.

“What are you doing here?”

Chloe asked, her hands planted on

her hips.

“Y-you know this guy?” Bryan

stuttered, standing beside her with

his chest puffed out.

“Yeah. Bryan, meet Shaw. Shaw,

this is Bryan.” Her voice was flat,

unamused.

“Charmed.” I grinned at the

bastard.

“What are you doing here?”

Chloe repeated.

“What does it look like?” My

voice was raw, but I couldn’t have

masked my emotions right now

even if I wanted to.

“Is this your . . . boyfriend?”

Bryan asked.

Amused, I waited to see how

she’d answer.

Chloe’s gaze fell from mine,

down to the pavement between us.

For the second time tonight, I

wished I knew what she was

thinking.

“No, he’s not.” Her voice was

soft and she sounded tired.

Ouch. Why did that sting? It

was the truth—it was even the

answer I expected—so why didn’t I

like hearing those words?

“Is everything okay?” Bryan

asked her.

“I’d like to speak with you when

you’re through,” I said to Chloe.

I watched as she led him away,

walking her date over to his black

compact sedan. They said good-bye

—no kiss, only a hug, which pleased

me. Then she stalked toward my

truck.

“What the hell was that?” she

asked, throwing her hands up in the

air.

“Jason told me you were out. I

was just checking up on you.”

“Well, you didn’t have to do

that. I’m fine,” she huffed.

“I know I didn’t have to. I

wanted to. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t know what the hell this

game is, Shaw, but I’m fucking

tired. Exhausted, actually. If you’ll

excuse me.” She shoved her way

around me and headed for her car.

I didn’t try to stop her. I just

hopped in my truck and followed

her home. She wanted to go home?

Fine. But this wasn’t over. Not by a

long shot.

When we reached her place, I

got out and trailed her up the stairs.

I thought she might try to stop me,

but she didn’t. She let me inside

without a word and closed the door

behind me. I just wasn’t ready to let

her go, even though I knew I was

breaking my own rules.

Chloe left me standing in her

bedroom as she went into the

bathroom and closed the door. She

relieved herself, then ran the water

—brushing her teeth and washing

her face, I was pretty sure. When

she emerged, I’d turned out the

lights and pulled down the blankets

on her bed.

She shot me a curious glance

but gathered her pajamas from a

dresser drawer and stripped down—

facing away from me—then changed

into an oversized T-shirt and loose

cotton shorts. She climbed into bed

without a word.

Stripping down to my boxers, I

climbed in beside her. I was

breaking every rule in my playbook,

but fuck if I could be stopped now. I

pulled her close until her body was

pressed up against the bare skin of

my chest, and I held her there. It

was crazy how perfectly she fit

nestled in at my side.

“Is he nice to you?” I breathed

against her neck.

She thought for a moment, and

I knew I wasn’t going to like the

answer. “Yes,” she said finally.

“That’s good.”

“Guess so,” she said.

“Tomorrow is Wednesday.”

“I know,” she whispered, and I

couldn’t tell if that hint of hopeful

longing I heard in her voice was just

my imagination.

“Be here,” I said.

Chapter Twelve

Chloe

“So, how was your date? I heard you

guys have gone out twice now?”

Courtney asked.

“Huh-uh,” I grumbled around a

mouthful of cinnamon roll. “No

grilling me until I’ve had my fix.”

We were sitting at our favorite

coffee place, eating my favorite

treat, and this frosting was my

crack. I wouldn’t be deprived my

pleasure.

Courtney took a sip of her

coffee and leaned back in her seat.

“Fine.”

After a few bites, I wiped my

mouth with a napkin and set down

my fork. “Yes, we went out twice

and he’s nice.” I shrugged.

“Come on. I need juicier details

than that.”

I took a deep breath, knowing I

wouldn’t make it out of there alive

without at least divulging

something mildly intriguing. So I

blurted the most interesting thing

about going out with Bryan.

“Shaw crashed my second date.”

Her brows wrinkled. “He did

what? Why?”

“Toward the end of my second

date in the park, Shaw’s truck was

parked in the distance. He was

watching us.”

Her gaze was inquisitive as she

watched me, clearly trying to piece

together if there was more to my

friendship with Shaw than I’d let

on. “And . . .” she said.

“When we got closer, he got out

and kind of tried to intimidate

Bryan.” At least, that was how it

seemed.

She rolled her eyes, letting out a

huff. “God, how annoying. So he

tried to pull that older-brother

protective bullshit on you?”

That wasn’t what it felt like. It

felt like the man I was fucking got

all territorial and protective of me.

But I couldn’t tell her any of that, so

I nodded.

“Guess so.”

“Dick,” she muttered. Then her

head snapped up and her gaze met

mine. “Unless . . . he likes you.”

“No, I doubt that’s it.” I looked

down into my coffee.

“Seriously. Think about it.” She

sat up straighter in her seat.

“Samantha’s been gone a long

time.” Her brow crinkled in

concentration.

“Yes, eight, almost nine months

ago,” I said. But who’s counting?

“Right, eight months ago.”

“What’s your point?” I asked,

taking another bite of cinnamon

roll.

“So, that’s a long time, Chlo.

He’s probably ready to move on.

And maybe since you’re someone

he’s always been close to, someone

he feels comfortable with, he’d look

to you for . . .” She waggled her

eyebrows.

He’d look to me for what?

Comfort? A rebound fling? It hurt

to think her assumption was that

I’d be some meaningless stepping

stone on his reintroduction to

dating. It implied I wasn’t good

enough for him. Then again, maybe

she was spot-on. It had been the

better part of a year and I’d been

there for Shaw in every way I could

think of. And yet he was going out

on dates with another woman.

I couldn’t really see myself

moving on from him, not until I’d

laid all my cards out on the table

and forced him to consider us as

something more. Not this secretive,

behind-closed-doors affair we were

having, but something real. I

wanted a shot with Shaw, as crazy

as that sounded.

Though I’d harbored secret

fantasies about him for so long,

when he got married, I took that

totally off the table. And rightly so.

He was a married man. I’d missed

my chance and there was no way I’d

ever do anything to sabotage him. I

knew then I’d signed up for a

lifetime of regrets and living with

the words I’d never said aloud to

another soul. I loved him.

I wasn’t going to push him as a

new, grieving widower, but now? As

Courtney pointed out, it had been

eight months. And while that wasn’t

very long, Shaw was the one

showing signs of being ready. He

not only was having a physical

relationship with me, but also had

let Jason set him up on a double

date.

I indulged in the sticky, sweet

dessert, bite after bite, until my

stomach hurt.

“It’s Wednesday,” I said out of

the blue.

Courtney nodded. “Hump day.”

We’d see about that.

• • •

By the time I got home late that

afternoon, it was pouring rain.

“Turn on the news,” Jason

called from the kitchen.

“Why?” I asked, grabbing the

remote from his favorite armchair

and hitting the O

button.

“They’re going to upgrade that

tropical storm to a hurricane

warning, I heard,” he said, joining

me in the living room and staring at

the TV screen as a newscaster stood

outside in a bright yellow raincoat,

getting pelted with sideways rain.

We both listened quietly for a

few minutes. Growing up here, we

were so used to storms, they barely

fazed us. The only thing it meant

for certain was that business would

suffer at the inn—people would

cancel their reservations for the

coming weekend, or their flights

would be canceled when they got to

the airport.

We rarely left town for storms,

only driving up the coast into

mainland Florida if they predicted a

category-three storm or higher.

We’d hunker down, stock up on

batteries and water, and ride it out

just like we had all the other times.

When we were kids, sometimes it

had even been fun, building pillow

forts in the living room and playing

flashlight tag through a dark house.

The phone call from our

parents came right on cue.

“Hey, Mom,” I answered. “Yeah.

We’re watching the weather report

now.” I alternated between listening

to the weatherman and my mother

for a few minutes. “They’re saying it

has the potential to turn into a

category two. Should be fine,

though.”

I chuckled at her response. Not

even our own mother was

concerned with our safety—well,

not much anyway. I handed the

phone to Jason.

“She wants to know how many

cancellations we’ve gotten.”

I sat down on the couch,

mentally cataloging the tasks we

needed to complete to secure the

estate. The shutters needed to be

latched over the windows, the trash

bins brought inside the shed, and a

few other things I’d leave to my

dear brother since it didn’t look like

the rain would be letting up

anytime soon. Let him get soaked.

Jason ended the call and started

dialing someone else.

“What’d she say?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing

much. But I remembered Shaw was

supposed to go out boating today.

Just want to make sure he’s heard

the news.”

“Surely he wouldn’t go out in

the rain.”

Jason shrugged. “It was fine

this morning. And besides, you

know Shaw. He’s a stubborn ass.”

He pressed the phone to his ear.

Just then the wind picked up,

howling low and steady, creating an

ominous mood.

He hung up a few seconds later.

“Huh. No answer.”

“Do you have any idea where he

is?”

Jason shook his head. “Don’t

look so panicked. I’m sure he’s fine,

Chloe.”

“Right.” I nodded, forcing the

scowl off my face, but that did

nothing to ease the panic churning

inside me. The storm might not be

bad—if we were safely locked inside

—but out on the water? That was a

whole other ball game.

“I’m going to head over to the

marina,” Jason said, mirroring my

thoughts. “Make sure they know

about the forecast upgrade and

check on the guys. Maybe Shaw’s

back by now.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of the

chores here.”

We each took off in separate

directions—my brother out into the

pelting rain, running for his truck,

and me to get my rain gear so I

could take care of everything

outside that needed to be done.

• • •

Night had fallen on our coastal

town and we were under warnings

for both the hurricane and flooding.

Rain was coming down in sheets,

and the wind was howling

something fierce outside my

bedroom window. And most

importantly? Shaw was still out

there.

Jason had come back from the

marina with a grim expression on

his face, and I knew before he even

said a word. I’d sunk down into a

kitchen chair when he shook his

head, and listened with my heart in

my throat when he said Shaw’s boat

was still gone and no one had heard

from him all day.

I didn’t hear much after that,

but sat there numb as Jason made

us some sandwiches and explained

how he helped Shaw’s crew secure

the marina and then sent them all

home.

Now, two hours later, the power

was out and I was sitting in the

center of my bed, staring at that

uneaten peanut butter sandwich as

candles lining my dresser flickered

in the room. Jason had urged me to

stay downstairs with him in case we

needed to take shelter in the safe

room in the center of our house. I

would go there if the storm got

worse, but for now I just needed to

be alone.

I had plenty of time for my

mind to wander to all the what-ifs.

The biggest of all . . . what if Shaw

didn’t make it home, and I never

told him all he meant to me?

Unshed tears welled in my eyes

as I lay back on my bed, repeating a

silent prayer over and over. Please

just keep him safe.

Suddenly there were headlights

outside and the roar of an engine. It

had been so black and so desolate

all evening, I was startled. I ran to

the window.

Stalking up the stairs to my

apartment was a soaking-wet Shaw.

Oh, thank God. My fingers

trembled on my lips as I watched

him approach.

His face was a hard mask and

his eyes were squinted from the

onslaught of rain. I was frozen in

place and when he reached the

door, it rattled against its frame.

I hadn’t realized I’d locked the

door. I never locked my door, but

maybe subconsciously I wanted to

keep the storm out. When I flipped

the lock and opened it, the wind

took hold of the door and pulled it.

Shaw tugged hard, closing it with a

thud.

I flung myself into his arms. “I

was so worried.”

“I know. Shhh.” He stroked my

hair and hushed my cries with his

kisses. “I’m here now.”

He was being so sweet, so

tender, but I couldn’t shake the

feeling that everything was about to

change.

Chapter Thirteen

Shaw

The ocean was an unforgiving,

tumultuous bitch. Spending an

evening navigating toward a light in

a marina that could no longer be

seen through the wind and the rain

does things to a man. My mind

began to focus, singularly, on the

few things I knew to be true.

First, Samantha, while I did

miss her, hadn’t been a good wife. I

wasn’t even sure we’d still be

together if she was here. That didn’t

erase the tragedy of her death, but it

was a fact. Second, I loved Chloe

and I always had. I’d talked myself

out of that fact so many times, I

started to believe I could move on,

told myself I wasn’t good enough

until it was true. Now the way I

treated her reflected that.

It’s strange what being thrust

into a dangerous situation will do to

you. I found myself reflecting on

my life. It was a true come-to-Jesus

moment. I vowed that if my little

boat found land again, I would

finally have the talk with Chloe I’d

been putting off since college.

And now here I was, holding

her in my arms, listening to her sob

and quieting her with kisses.

“I’m here.” I kissed her

forehead. “Don’t cry.”

She looked up at me, her lower

lip trembling. “I was so worried,

Shaw.”

“I know.” I took a step back and

looked down at her T-shirt. “I’m

getting you soaked.”

Thunder cracked outside, and it

seemed to break the trance Chloe

had been in since I stepped through

the door. “You must be freezing.

Come on.”

She led me into the bathroom,

stopping on the way to take one of

the candles from the dresser to light

our path. Once inside the bathroom,

I began stripping off my soaked

clothes. Wishing the power wasn’t

out so I could take a hot shower, I

pulled off my jeans and boxers and

tossed them into her tub.

Now completely nude, I let

Chloe put a blanket around my

shoulders before we headed to her

bed. She moved a plate holding a

sandwich to the nightstand and

pulled back the covers.

She was about to climb into the

bed, but my hand around her wrist

stopped her. Her eyes met mine,

asking what I needed in the flicker

of candlelight.

I lifted her shirt off over her

head and stripped her down to her

panties. I needed her body heat, but

more than that, I needed to feel her

skin on mine.

She never questioned me, never

fought me. She gave me what I

needed, always putting her own

needs aside. If that wasn’t the

definition of love, I didn’t know

what was. But I also knew that I’d

fucked things up between us and

she was dating now, trying to move

on.

I drew the blankets back, and

Chloe slipped into the bed with me

right behind her. We each lay facing

the window, which was getting

battered by the rain and wind.

Water cascaded in a steady stream,

and flashes of lightning lit up the

sky every few seconds.

I held her close—her back

against my chest and the curve of

her ass nestled against my groin—

and pulled the blankets all the way

up to my chin, tucking them in

around us.

“What happened?” she asked

softly.

“When I went out this

afternoon, it was clear. I knew

about the storm, but I never

expected it to get so bad so fast.”

She nodded. “Jason went by the

marina looking for you.”

“I’m here now.”

I tightened my hold around her

and she let out a soft sigh. I let her

warmth surround me, heating me

slowly from head to toe. My own

personal sunshine.

“That storm was a wake-up call.

I had a lot of time to think,” I said.

“About what?” she whispered.

“When I watched you on that

date, you looked so happy. If he’s

what you want, I’ll back away right

now. I’ll step back and I’ll be your

friend. No hard feelings.”

I swallowed a hard lump that

had formed in my throat. Why were

those words so hard to say?

She shifted, turning around to

face me. “Why does it sound like

you’re saying good-bye?”

“Because. I know you’re dating

now, exploring your options, which

is well within your rights.”

She made a noncommittal noise

in her throat. “I’m not sure what I

want. Besides, Bryan’s only in town

on business.”

“What’s going to happen when

he leaves? You get left behind with

a broken heart?”

“What’s it matter to you? I

didn’t think you cared anymore.

You’re dating what’s-her-tits,

anyway.”

Both my eyebrows shot up.

“What’s-her-tits?”

“My point is, you were dating

too.”

“No,” I said, correcting her.

“Jason dragged me out. The first

time I didn’t know it was a setup,

and the second time, I went because

your brother had started to get

suspicious and was questioning my

motivations with you.”

“So, what are you saying? You

want me to date?”

I shook my head. “I want to

keep you all to myself, but I don’t

know if I can do that.”

She hesitated, chewing on her

lower lip. “I don’t know if I can go

on living in Samantha’s shadow.”

I nodded, quiet for a moment.

“There are a lot of things I

never told you,” I said.

She waited, listening quietly to

the storm and looking deep into my

eyes.

“Not right now. Let’s talk

tomorrow. I’ll explain everything to

you.”

She gave me a look like she was

wondering what I could possibly

explain. But I was exhausted and

just needed to hold her—especially

if tonight was the last time I’d get

the privilege of having her in my

arms.

• • •

In the morning, I kissed Chloe

good-bye and told her we’d talk

later. I needed to drive to the

marina and see what kind of

damage had been caused by the

storm, but I also needed to get my

head together for what I would say

to her later.

After checking on everything at

work and home, which amounted to

minimal wind damage and nothing

else, I headed into town. I hadn’t

been taking care of myself, and I got

a long-overdue haircut and shave.

Then I wandered into a men’s

clothing store, where a perky young

sales associate helped me pick out a

couple of pairs of jeans—apparently,

my waist had gone down a size—

and a polo shirt that she said

brought out the green in my eyes. I

knew she was flirting and ignored

her, as all my energy was focused

on Chloe.

I went home, made reservations

at a local restaurant, and then took

a shower. I’d texted Chloe earlier,

letting her know I’d pick her up at

five.

Once I was ready—complete

with styling gel in my hair,

aftershave on my jaw, and wearing

the new clothes I’d bought earlier—

I looked in the mirror. I felt like a

new man.

God, why had I waited so long

to do this? Chloe was the most

important person in my life. She

was who I leaned on after

Samantha’s death, literally and

figuratively. Just knowing that she

was there, that I could drive over to

her place and be there in three

minutes if shit really got hard, was

enough to get me through most

days.

And she’d done so much for me

—packed up all of Samantha’s stuff,

and dealt with getting it over to her

parents. That was something I

couldn’t have done alone. Or maybe

I could have, but it would have

taken a couple of bottles of

whiskey, and it wouldn’t have been

pretty.

I grabbed my wallet and phone

and then headed over to pick up

Chloe.

Jason answered the door and

gave me a once-over, looking up

and down my body. On the ride

over, I wanted to go to the main

house first, my way of

acknowledging that I wanted to stop

sneaking around behind her

brother’s back.

“You cleaned up,” he said.

I nodded. It was certainly

different from the board shorts and

surf T-shirts I usually wore. “Is

Chloe here?”

“Yeah, she just went upstairs to

get ready. Said you two were going

out?”

“To dinner. She and I need to

have a long-overdue talk.”

He nodded. “Anything you need

to share with me?”

“Not yet. Let me talk to Chloe

first.”

“Okay, good luck.” And then he

closed the door.

Before I could get up to her

apartment, Chloe was already

starting down the stairs. She was

dressed in a pair of skinny jeans

and a red halter top. She looked

fucking hot.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

She nodded as her gaze skated

over my appearance, just like

Jason’s had, but she didn’t mention

it. “Yeah. Am I dressed okay? I

wasn’t sure what you had planned.”

“You look great.”

We got into my truck and I

pulled out onto the main road.

“I thought we could go down to

the beach at Hunter’s Cove, then

have dinner later if you’re up for it.”

Her gaze snapped over to mine.

“We haven’t been there since we

were kids.”

“I know. That okay?”

A small smile graced her lips.

“Sounds cool.”

This was nice, this easygoing

sense of peace I felt near her.

Things had been way too tense

lately, but I knew when I told her

what was really on my mind, that

sweet smile on her face would fade

quickly.

I pulled into the gravel parking

lot beside the beach, and we

climbed out. A few minutes later we

were strolling down the lazy stretch

of beach.

“Remember when we carved

our names into that tree?” she

asked, and I followed her gaze down

to the small clump of trees at the

other end of the protected beach. “I

wonder if it’s still there.”

We started toward the small

grove of trees. It took us a few

minutes, but soon we were standing

in the same spot we had fifteen

years ago, running our fingers over

the rough initials I’d carved with

my pocketknife.

“Things were a lot different

back then,” Chloe said sadly.

“Not that different. It’s still me

and you against the world,

Sunshine.”

She nodded and let me take her

hand, leading her down toward the

beach, where we sat in the sand.

“There are a lot of things I’ve

been putting off saying to you,” I

told her. “I know you tried to get me

talking a few times, but what can I

say? I’m a stubborn ass.”

“I understand, Shaw. You’ve

been through so much this year.

Getting married and then losing

Samantha like that. I’ve just wanted

to know that you’re okay. And yeah,

sometimes I’ve wanted to

understand what you and I were

doing.”

I nodded. “I know. And I’ve

been selfish. But tonight I want to

get some things off my chest.”

She stayed quiet but nodded

subtly for me to go ahead.

“First thing you don’t know is

that Samantha became pregnant

shortly after we graduated from

college.”

I felt Chloe’s gaze on me, could

see her mouth open from the

corner of my eye. But I kept my

focus on the water, unable to face

the pity I was sure would be

reflected in her features.

“I proposed because it felt like

the right thing to do.”

This time I looked over at

Chloe, and it wasn’t pity I saw. It

was a mix of shock and confusion.

“And then she miscarried right

after I proposed.”

“But you still went along with

the wedding?” she asked, hesitation

in her voice.

I nodded. “We tried to make the

best of it. We fought sometimes,

and we struggled to adjust to our

new forever. In a lot of ways, we

weren’t compatible. We wanted

different things. She wanted to

move to LA and pursue an acting

career. I wanted to come back to

this sleepy little island that had

everything I held dear—you and all

our memories from growing up, my

parents’ marina, the sea that always

felt like home to me.”

“I never knew any of this,”

Chloe said softly.

I nodded. “Samantha resented

you in my life. And I’m sorry I

pushed you away the last couple of

years—but I was trying to do what I

thought was the right thing as a

married man.”

Chloe nodded. “I understand.

You don’t have to explain that.”

I took a deep breath. “But then I

found out she was cheating on me. I

didn’t know who he was. At first I

didn’t care because I was ten

thousand percent fucking done with

it all. But then I got curious and

started piecing everything together.

The new hairstyle, her new

obsession with the gym, her

preoccupation with her phone. One

night she went to take a bath and

left her phone on the counter. I

read her text messages from

someone she’d saved as Mr.

Midnight. They met up at the Coral

Reef Inn on Wednesday nights.”

Her jaw dropped.

“Wednesdays?”

I nodded somberly. “I get it if

you hate me, if you think I’m a total

fucking prick.”

She shook her head. “I don’t.

Not at all.”

“Well, that’s a start, at least.”

“Is there more?” Chloe asked.

“Yes, but let’s get some dinner

first.”

“Sounds good.” She rose from

the ground, brushing the sand from

her butt, and led the way to the

truck.

This next part was going to be

the hardest.

Chapter Fourteen

Chloe

Sitting across from Shaw at the

expensive oceanfront seafood

restaurant felt a little surreal. Not

because we hadn’t been out to eat

together before, but because this

felt like a date. A real date with

cloth napkins and linen on the

table, and a little white candle

flickering between us.

We’d finished our meal and I

was on my second glass of merlot

when Shaw leaned closer.

“You’ve been here for me in so

many ways, and I’ve never even said

thank you.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t

need to. I’ve been here because I

wanted to be. You’re my best

friend.”

“That’s the thing, though.

Sometimes I get fucked up in the

head and I don’t just think of you as

a friend. I think of you as mine.

Sorry if that’s fucking weird or

creeps you out or whatever, but

that’s just the way it is. It’s the way

it’s always been.”

My heart started to pound, and

I couldn’t mistake the look in his

eyes. It wasn’t sexual or suggestive

or dark, like I was used to. It was

filled with pure love and adoration.

The waiter chose that moment

to deliver our bill, which Shaw

scooped up and promptly paid.

“Are you ready to go?”

I nodded, even though I wasn’t

ready for our night to be over.

When we got in his truck, I

summoned my courage. “Would

you like to come over?”

“If you’d like me to, yes.”

I wasn’t sure what had

happened to him in that storm, but

it seemed Shaw had turned over a

new leaf. Gone was the demanding,

cocky man he’d retreated into in his

darkest days. Now he seemed open

and humble, and was watching me

with a careful curiosity like he was

scared I might run off at any

moment.

When we got to my place, we

removed our shoes and sat down on

my bed. I felt like an awkward,

nervous teenager, unsure of what

was going to happen, until Shaw

took my hand and kissed the back

of it.

“Nothing is going to happen

that you don’t want to.”

I nodded, my heart filled with

anticipation. “Okay.”

“And before anything else

happens, I need you to know what

you mean to me.”

I waited while he composed his

thoughts. Still holding my hand,

Shaw brushed his fingertips along

my skin, creating warm pressure

where he touched me.

“When we started out, it was

because I wanted you, but it’s more

now. It’s a need. This desperate

need that claws at me. I wake up

needing you. I come home needing

you. I go to bed and all I need is

you.”

“Shaw . . .” My voice broke. His

words melted me. They were exactly

what I’d longed to hear for months.

“I feel the exact same way. When

you’re not with me, I worry, I miss

you . . . I wonder if you’ve eaten,

and how you’re doing alone in that

house.”

He nodded, bringing my hand

to his lips once again and kissing it.

“I know. I miss you too. Having you

on Wednesdays to mask the pain

isn’t nearly enough. And I’m done

fucking around here. You’re mine

now. Every part of you. As long as

you want that too . . .”

Tears rolled down my cheeks

and I murmured his name again.

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes,” I cried. “I

love you.”

“Good, because I love you

more.”

That night, Shaw took me to

bed, slowly stripping away each

article of my clothing and his until

we were bared to each other—skin

to skin.

He took his time, kissing and

worshipping my body from head to

toe until I was a writhing, needy

mess. And right before he entered

me, he stopped and met my eyes.

“I love you, Chloe. You’re mine

now.”

“I always have been,” I

reminded him and lifted my hips to

take him.

His sigh of ecstasy vibrated

through me as our bodies joined.

We made love slowly, his lips on my

neck, his fingers in my hair, his

rough voice murmuring my name.

And when we finished in a

symphony of cries, he spooned his

big body around mine. We lay there

intertwined as our heart rates

slowed.

Everything about tonight had

been perfect, but I had a feeling that

our biggest obstacle as a couple lay

ahead.

• • •

We’d brought all of our friends

together for an outdoor barbecue

lunch today at the inn to share our

news. It had only been three days

since we officially started dating,

but Shaw didn’t want to waste any

more time.

If we expected everyone to be

stunned—or worse—we were dead

wrong. As Shaw announced that we

were dating, Jason just looked at us

with a knowing smile while

Courtney and Lynne grinned from

ear to ear. A couple of the guys who

worked for Shaw, who were also

some of his closest friends since he

spent so much time with them,

were giving us a no shit look.

Apparently, a scandal this was not.

Shaw’s friend Abe sat in a reclining

chair in the shade, his smile wide

and happy.

“Chloe’s always been there for

me,” Shaw told them, “through all

of life’s ups and downs, and this is

no different, except I finally got my

head out of my ass and started

seeing her in a new light.”

“It makes perfect sense, you

two together,” Courtney said.

My brother looked over at us

and shook his head. “About fucking

time you two realized it.” Then he

locked eyes with Shaw. “Be good to

my sister.”

“I will. Always, I promise,”

Shaw said, his face serious.

“I know. That’s the strangest

thing about all of this—I trust you,”

Jason added.

They didn’t need to know we’d

been fucking like rabbits for nine

months. Some things were better

left private. Though my brother

looked like he might have suspected

something all along, he stayed quiet

and let us have our moment.

Now, feeling anxious about this

moment seemed so silly. These

people loved and cared for us, so of

course they just wanted us to be

happy. It wasn’t like I’d tempted

him away from a happy marriage, or

I was someone who came out of the

woodwork to trick a grieving

widower. I’d loved Shaw my entire

life.

And now, through

circumstances and fate, I’d have the

chance to love him in a new way. It

was an honor I wouldn’t take for

granted. It had been a bumpy

journey, but now that we were

together, really together, all the

heartache and confusion over the

past several months felt worth it.

Shaw pulled me close to his

side and put his arm around my

waist. I still wasn’t used to his

warm affections that weren’t

sexual, and I definitely wasn’t used

to them happening in front of other

people. As natural as it all felt, it

would take some getting used to.

“Let’s eat. I’m starved,”

Courtney said, grabbing the platter

of barbecue chicken my brother had

spent the last hour grilling.

Everyone made their way to the two

picnic tables that were already set

with colorful paper plates and

utensils.

I chuckled, loving how our

announcement was so

anticlimactic. “Anything else to

drink?” I asked Shaw.

He had a half-full bottle of beer

in his hand. “I’m good.” He smiled

and dropped a kiss on my lips.

Warm tingles spread through

my belly and I nodded, joining him

at the table. I wasn’t sure when I’d

get used to the warm feelings being

near him inspired. I hoped not ever.

Epilogue

Chloe

One Year Later

“Over here! Bring the bucket,”

Colin’s little voice called.

Shaw chuckled and grabbed the

white five-gallon bucket to join

eight-year-old Colin at the

shoreline.

“Can I really take him home?”

Shaw looked down to inspect

the small creature at Colin’s feet. “If

you promise to take care of him.

He’ll need shelter, food, and clean

water.”

Colin nodded enthusiastically,

promising he’d take good care of

the hermit crab.

I wasn’t so sure what Colin’s

mother would say about all this, but

I kept my trap shut. Shaw in a

father-figure role was way too cute.

I placed my hand on the tiny belly

bump that had hardly begun to

show, and watched them interact.

The waves lapped at their bare

feet as Shaw helped him scoop up

his new best friend into the bucket.

“Can I see him?” Claire asked.

Colin lowered the bucket for

her to peer inside, wide-eyed. A few

other kids gathered around too at

the commotion.

We had created a new

Wednesday tradition. Something to

give back, rather than give in to our

carnal pleasures. After we got

married last year and things in our

lives settled down a little, we

created a charity in his late wife’s

name, the Samantha Denton

Foundation. She wasn’t perfect, but

none of us are. She was human. She

loved Shaw in her own way, and if

she hadn’t been part of his life, if

none of this had happened, he and I

might not have ended up together

at all. Life was strange that way.

The foundation was a beach

cleanup effort since the beach, and

preserving our slice of heaven, was

important to us both. We took

groups of kids out here, usually part

of a class field trip, and together we

patrolled one mile of sand, cleaning

up trash and debris.

When Shaw’s good friend Abe

passed away earlier this year and

left everything to Shaw, we decided

to tie his legacy into the foundation

too. Instead of his home being

bulldozed to make room for condos,

it was now our meeting spot for the

expeditions, and a natural learning

center where we talked to the kids

about preservation and showed

them the plants and trees unique to

the Florida Keys. I think Abe would

have been happy about that.

Shaw came back to my side, his

face as calm as the blue water

stretched out before us. He briefly

put his hand on my tummy,

caressing me before letting it fall

away. It had become his new

greeting, and I didn’t even think he

realized it.

“Who do they remind you of?”

His eyes were still on Colin and

Claire, who had ditched cleanup,

opting to keep their new pet

company.

I smiled knowingly. “They’re

inseparable. Just like we were at

that age.”

“Maybe we’re witnessing

another epic love story in the

making.”

I squeezed his hand. My big,

tough alpha male was turning into a

softie more and more with each

passing day. We’d been married for

six months now, and I was about

three months pregnant. After I’d

felt nauseated for three days

straight, Shaw had gone to the store

for home pregnancy tests and

demanded I pee on a stick. When he

saw it was positive, he picked me up

with tears in his eyes. And now he

was there for me, ever attentive for

every food craving, complaint, ache,

pain, and joy I experienced.

“You’re so sweet,” I murmured,

taking his hand.

He smirked at me. “Just

because we’re doing this whole

good-for-humanity bit on

Wednesdays doesn’t mean I’m not

going to take you home and fuck

you senseless. You know that,

right?”

I giggled and swatted his chest

playfully.

I had moved in with him in his

cozy little beachfront home, putting

my own touches on it. And now we

were preparing to change the guest

bedroom into a nursery—gender

neutral because we wanted to be

surprised.

The last two years had been

filled with surprises—some good,

others tragic—and we were ready

for more of the good kind of

surprise. I had my best friend by my

side and a new life inside me. And

the memories of what we’d been

through to build us up and make us

stronger.

I knew, from here on out, we’d

weather every storm together. And

nothing could be sweeter.

Author’s Note

I hope you enjoyed reading

Wednesday. It was one of those

random ideas that popped into my

head in February 2016. It was a

Saturday morning—you know the

kind where you’re still lounging in

your pajamas, drinking coffee, and

picking at breakfast several hours

after waking? Yes, one of those. My

kids were playing on the living

room floor, my husband flipping

through a magazine across from

me. It was winter in Minnesota,

which meant it was absolutely

freezing out and we had no plans to

go anywhere.

I grabbed my laptop and wrote

out the blurb for a book I knew I

had no time to write. I e-mailed it to

my publicist and said, “What do you

think about this idea?” Her

response was enthusiastic,

something along the lines of, “You

need to write this book! Right

now!” So I opened a blank

document, and soon I had the

beginning of a first chapter.

Because this project didn’t fit

into my writing schedule (like, at

all), I decided that I would continue

writing the books I was supposed to

in order to keep on track with my

releases, but that I would write one

thousand words a night on this

book too, and just see where it took

me. It was a hard couple of months,

alternating between two projects—

one I would write during the day in

present tense, and this book in the

evening after dinner, dishes, and

bath time, in past tense. This book

was basically written with the help

of wine, my couch, and a good

playlist, which I included for you at

the end.

Chloe and Shaw didn’t even

have names for the first several

weeks. I didn’t outline or plot. I had

no idea where the story was

heading . . . I just had a haunted

what if question in my head.

What if the man you’d grown

up with, your lifelong best friend

and secret crush, suddenly lost his

wife? In what ways would his grief

shape your new relationship? To

what lengths would you go to be

there for him?

Is it controversial?

Inappropriate? Maybe. But love

doesn’t have boundaries, and in

telling this story, I let these

heartsick, broken characters lead

me. I knew they could find their

happily-ever-after. And I also knew

it would be a short story. Those

were the only things I knew for

sure.

I’m so glad that I stuck with it

and spent all those evenings

allowing their story to unfold. I

hope you are too.

Playlist

“Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

“Champagne Supernova” by Oasis

“Mountain at My Gates” by Foal

“Adventure of a Lifetime” by

Coldplay

“Flake” by Jack Johnson

“Lovesong” by the Cure

“Big Girls Cry” by Sia

“Beast of Burden” by the Rolling

Stones

“Burning Photographs” by Ryan

Adams

Coming Soon

Hitched

Marry the girl I’ve had a crush

on my whole life? Check.

Inherit a hundred-billion-dollar

company? Check.

Produce an heir… Wait, what?

I have ninety days to knock up

my brand-new fake wife. There’s

only one problem—she hates my

guts.

And in the fine print of the

contract? The requirement that we

produce an heir.

She can’t stand to be in the

same room with me. Says she’ll

never be in my bed. But I’ve never

backed down from a challenge and

I’m not about to start now.

Mark my words—I’ll have her

begging for me, and it won’t take

ninety days.

On the heels of her smash hit

and New York Times bestselling

SCREWED series, Kendall Ryan

brings you HITCHED, a romantic

comedy that delivers heart and

heat. A NYC playboy turned

business mogul has ninety days to

win over the woman he's always

desired in order to save his father's

company. One tiny problem: She

hates his guts.

Stay Connected

list to be updated when I have a

new release or a sale.

Click here to get started:

http://goo.gl/ZSbyUE

Acknowledgments

Thank you to my beta reader,

Natasha Gentile. I can always count

on you for swift and honest

feedback. Thank you for telling me

what worked and what didn’t, and

for being so passionate about this

project. I’ll never look at hump day

the same way ever again.

A massive thank-you to

Danielle Sanchez for believing in

this project and loving my idea from

the get-go. I’m not sure I would

have written this book without your

excitement for the concept.

Actually, I’m sure I wouldn’t have.

Writing is hard. And I’m tired. I’m

so lucky to have you on my team.

Rachel Brookes, a fellow

author, a friend, a cheerleader for

my work, and so much more. Thank

you for always being here for me

throughout the years.

Pam Berehulke, thank you for

squeezing in this project. I know

how busy you are, and I am so

grateful to you. I love not only your

skill at editing, but also the grace

with which you handle providing

feedback and comments. You make

me happy, and working with you is

a joy.

Emma Hart, I can’t believe you

designed my cover. Seriously, you

rock. Thank you for doing that. I

love it, as you know.

To my beautiful family. You are

everything and more to me.

About the Author

A New York Times, Wall Street

Journal, and USA TODAY

bestselling author of more than

twenty titles, Kendall Ryan has sold

more than a million e-books, and

her books have been translated into

several languages in countries

around the world. She’s a

traditionally published author with

Simon & Schuster and Harper

Collins UK, as well as an

independently published author.

Since she first began self-

publishing in 2012, she’s appeared

at #1 on Barnes & Noble and iBooks

charts around the world. Her books

have also appeared on the New

York Times and USA TODAY

bestseller list more than two dozen

times. Ryan has been featured in

such publications as USA TODAY,

Newsweek, and In Touch Weekly.

To be notified of new releases or

sales, join Kendall’s private:

Mailing List

Website:

www.kendallryanbooks.com

Facebook:

Kendall Ryan Books

Twitter:

@kendallryan1

Private Facebook Group:

www.facebook.com/groups/140575819476413/

Other Books by Kendall

Ryan

NRAVEL

Series:

Unravel Me

Make Me Yours

OVE

ESIGN

Series:

Working It

Craving Him

All or Nothing

HEN

I B

REAK

Series:

When I Break

When I Surrender

When We Fall

ILTHY

EAUTIFUL

IES

Series:

Filthy Beautiful Lies

Filthy Beautiful Love

Filthy Beautiful Lust

Filthy Beautiful Forever

ESSONS

WITH

THE

Series:

The Gentleman Mentor

Sinfully Mine

LPHAS

NDONE

Series:

Bait & Switch

Slow & Steady

ITCHED

: I

MPERFECT

OVE

Series:

Hitched, Volume 1

TAND

ALONE

OVELS

Document Outline

About the Book
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Playlist
Coming Soon
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by Kendall Ryan

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Wednesday Kendall Ryan

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