Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Eventually he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all day.” He sighs. “Well, since last night, actually.”
I bite back a smile. “Well, now you’ve kissed me,” I say.
“And now you’ve kissed me back.”
I laugh at our push and pull, fiddling with the neck of his T-shirt.
“You know what I wish?” he asks.
“I couldn’t fathom. You’ve already surprised me today.”
He pulls back a bit, resting his arm on the porch post behind me so he’s still leaning into me. “Really? You weren’t thinking that—”
“Get back to the bit where you were wishing for something,” I say to him.
He chuckles. “I wish it was just you and me here. Just for the night. We could hang out on the porch. Watch the waves roll in. You could give me hell for being . . . I don’t know—me. I could take no notice. And then I’d pull you onto my lap and kiss you into next week.”
I have to look away and over to the ocean. The picture he’s painting is far too vivid. Far too tempting for me to look at him as he describes it.
I snake my hand under his shirt and hook my fingers into his waistband. “Huh,” I say, mulling over the idea. It’s not like I haven’t thought about Hunter in this way. In fact, I’ve thought about him in exactly this way a lot in the past twenty-four hours. I just didn’t expect this. So soon. So public. And although it feels good to be . . . connected, I’m scared. “Sounds . . . good.”
He smiles and takes a step back. “Right. Bachelor and bachelorette duties must take precedence.”
I really want Katherine to have the best weekend of her life. But right at this moment, I wish we could press pause on The Katherine and Ed Show and maybe disappear, just the two of us, to see if we could act out the exact evening Hunter just described.
Chapter Seventeen
Hunter
I grab a tray of drinks from the bar since they were taking way too long to arrive at our table and head back to our party.
“Here’s Hunter ‘the Tongue’ Bain.” Ed thinks he’s made up the most hilarious nickname, and who am I to spoil his fun? Kissing Lucy Jones was . . . Well, I haven’t been able to keep the grin off my face since.
Everyone grabs a tequila from the tray, and Ed holds his bottle up to the guys’ Cheers. “You know you have to marry her now.”
My jaw tightens just a fraction. I know he’s joking, but still, it’s a lot. I don’t want to think about anything but right now.
“There’s no way you can ever break up,” he continues.
“Why would you?” Fisher says, like it’s already been decided by committee that I’m marrying Lucy Jones. “She’s hot and looks like she keeps you on your toes.”
“Says the committed bachelor,” I say.
Fisher just shrugs and grins at me. “Do as I say, not as I do.”
“You need to stop getting ahead of yourself,” I say to Ed. If only he knew that today was our first . . . crossover into romantic territory. Before today, it had all been faked. Or maybe none of it had been fake? Not the stuff between just the two of us anyway.
“I mean it, though,” Ed says. “We’re . . . we’re a family, you, me, Katherine, and Lucy.” There’s a vulnerability in his tone that hits me at the back of my throat. “You can’t mess this up, Hunter. I don’t want to be choosing between inviting you or Lucy to holidays and celebrations.”
“You said that,” I remind him. “But I’m also serious. You need to behave yourself.”
As if to prove a point, someone taps me on the shoulder. When I look around, there’s a pretty blond girl standing next to me, smiling.
“I was just wondering if you’re single and if you want my number?” She wrinkles up her nose in a way I probably would have found adorable about forty-eight hours ago. “Do I recognize you?” she asks. “Are you famous?”
“Definitely not famous. And not single either. But thanks for asking.” Her face drops a little, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m not a celebrity or because I’m not single.
“I have a couple of friends who’re very single,” I say. “But they’re not famous either.” She glances around at our group. “Fisher, meet . . .”
“Lindsay,” she says, forgetting me instantly. Fisher stands and they go to the bar.
Not only am I officially taken and unofficially not interested in Lindsay but I’m also a matchmaker. Feels pretty good.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Ed says. “You’re used to beating them off with a stick. You need to get some real good swinging action going, because if you break up with Lucy—which is strictly unacceptable under any circumstances—you definitely can’t cheat on her.”