Стейси Кестуик - Wet

So, yeah, at this point, I kind of expected us to end the day together.

Maybe we were a couple, but I wasn’t sure about the official part.

I mumbled something unintelligible and broke off a piece of his doughnut for myself, popping the sticky mess in my mouth and licking my fingers to keep from having to say anything further.

He raised his eyebrows, reading the evasion perfectly. “Don’t worry about it, Sadie. He doesn’t do girlfriends — don’t take it personally.”

Ouch .

It stung to be lumped in the same category as all the other women who had passed through his life. Like the chicks in the bar bathroom. Like Aubrey.

I wanted to believe we had something special. That we were something special.

Even if we hadn’t put a label on it.

A small crowd was already gathered on the patio by the grill, but I needed a drink first to wash away the sudden sour taste in my mouth from Theo’s innocent question. Grabbing the boxes from him, I climbed the stairs to the front porch. Ever the gentleman, Theo bounded ahead of me to get the door, holding it open for me to pass.

His question shouldn’t have taken me by surprise — the majority of the time West and I had spent hanging out had been just the two of us. Besides a few times at the Wreck and the drive-in a month ago, most people hadn’t really seen us together, other than Rue, who still glared daggers at me in the morning when he lingered after she had woken up. Our friends were curious, especially with West’s tendency toward flings, not relationships.

Hell, I was curious how he was going to act today. This was his house, his friends, his party.

Was I his girl? Or his dirty, little secret?

When I entered the kitchen, Theo on my heels, people were standing three deep around the counter, tapping the keg and mixing drinks with stronger stuff from glass bottles. I headed for the telltale red cooler, hoping it was full of the Wreck’s signature grog.

Jackpot! I filled a red plastic cup, chugged a third of it right there, and topped it back off. Glancing around, I took in all the bodies milling around the small bungalow. I didn’t recognize most of them, and it made me uneasy, wondering if that was an indication of how little I knew about West.

Slowing down, I nursed my drink and reminded myself that wasn’t true.

I knew West.

I knew the important stuff.

I knew he took his role of big brother seriously, that family, especially his siblings, was his main priority. I knew he had ambition, choosing to carve his own path with his own money instead of following the easy road, but it wasn’t driven by greed or vanity. I knew he had a soft side — his airmail messages to me were all the proof I needed. I knew he was stubborn and sexy and smart. I knew that while he was comfortable in a suit with society’s upper crust, he was more comfortable in a rundown bar, eating peanuts from a plastic pail. I knew he had the patience of a saint, determined to make me love the ocean with the same passion he did. I knew his heart was his biggest muscle because he put it into everything he did.

I knew the little things too.

I knew he never let his gas tank fall below half-full. I knew he liked plain M&M’s, but not the red ones, because he swore they tasted different from the rest. I knew he was ticklish if I ran my fingers over the base of his spine. I knew he couldn’t sleep well at night if the ceiling fan wasn’t on. I knew he liked my hair down and wild around my face, because he was always tugging my hair tie free if I had it pulled back. I knew how his voice sounded groaning my name into my throat when he found his release between my thighs.

I smiled to myself, taking another fortifying sip. I might not know these people, but I knew West. And I liked all his pieces and parts.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, my body responding to his presence, and my eyes searched for him. I spotted him coming out of his bedroom, a beanie pulled low over his forehead. His gaze raked me from head to toe, and I held still for his heated inspection. Getting ready for the party earlier, I’d used the standard girl technique where you take way too long to look like you just threw something on at the last minute. My faded tee hung casually over a comfy cotton skirt, a hot-pink tank just peeking out under the shirt’s hemline. Trusty rubber flip flops, a purple hair tie around my wrist, and the messy-on-purpose waves I’d managed to coax my hair into completed the look.

He approved, if the way he pushed through the crowd was any indication.

Reaching my side, he curved an arm low around my hip, pulling me against him, before dipping his head to nuzzle below my ear.

“I missed you,” he murmured, running his nose along my jaw before dropping a quick kiss on my lips.

I hooked two fingers under the waistband of his board shorts and tugged. “You allergic to shirts again today?”

His bare chest was inches from my face, his skin tanned from his time on the boat. My palm itched to stroke the expanse of muscle, to trace the ridges of his abdomen.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, pulling my attention higher. “Maybe I like the way you can’t concentrate on anyone but me when I don’t wear one.”

I made a show of looking around the living area. “There are a lot of good-looking guys here,” I mused. “Feeling insecure?”

He smirked. “Should I?”

I wrinkled my nose at him and poked his stomach, making him take a step back, before throwing the question back at him. “Should I?”

“Should you what?”

“Feel insecure?” My voice wobbled just a little, my uncertainty from Theo’s remark bleeding through.

The heat in his eyes changed, from a bright flare to a low steady flame, the blue more prevalent than the gray today. He leaned down until our foreheads touched and cupped my cheek with his free hand. “Never.”

His thumb stroked my cheekbone, and I closed my eyes, melting against him. Pressing a kiss to the top of my head, he eased back, putting some space in between us. “Come with me. I gotta help Wyatt with the grill or there won’t be anything edible to feed all these people.”

The next hour was a blur of introductions, burgers, bratwursts, and beer. Josie, who had helped rescue me after my parasailing fiasco, and Kendra, my fellow lifeguard, were both there, and the three of us began setting out the prepped food on a picnic table that had been borrowed from the Wreck, judging by the graffiti that covered it. We filled disposable aluminum trays with buns, toppings, and condiments while we waited for the men to finish grilling the meat. Josie was showing us a new tattoo along her ribs, a Shakespearean quote written in script, when the sound of crunching aluminum caught my attention.

Whipping around, I saw General Beauregard wolfing down huge slobbery mouthfuls of bread. Clapping loudly to startle him, I hollered and shooed him away, tail tucked between his legs, and managed to save the hotdog buns. The hamburger buns, on the other hand, were a total loss.

Walking over to see what all the commotion was about, West stared down at the mess. Scratching his chest, he yelled to his brother, “We got any more upstairs?”

Wyatt shrugged and poked at the grill, raising his beer to his lips.

Rolling my eyes, I headed for the stairs.

“Thanks, babe!” West called out. A small grin curved my lips as I walked away. He hadn’t hesitated to call me that in front of his friends. That meant something, right?

Upstairs, the kitchen was mostly deserted, except for a couple making out in the corner. I poked around the cabinets, but I couldn’t find any extra bread. Eyeing my doughnuts, I carried them back downstairs.

West chuckled when he saw the green-and-white boxes in my hands. “Skipping straight to dessert?”