Summer Love by Piper Rayne
Chapter Three
We spend the night talking. And laughing. And snuggling. And having sex. And eating. And talking some more. And having more sex. And…you get the point.
But no matter how much time we spent soaking up each other’s presence, we couldn’t stop the morning from coming.
And now, it’s here.
Snuggled in my one-bedroom apartment, the light casting a warm glow from the window, a foreboding sense of loss taints the picture-perfect moment of us together. In bed. Tangled in the sheets after another mind-blowing orgasm.
Dragging his fingers up and down my bare arm as I stay lost in my thoughts, Hawthorne murmurs, “What are you thinking about?”
I bite my lip to keep from freaking him out. “Nothing.”
“Liar,” he teases. “Tell me.”
How do I tell him that I’m thinking about him leaving and that it sucks? How do I tell him that I want him to stay, even though I know it could never work? The guy’s too big for a small town. He’d never want to be tied down, especially to a girl like me.
“Tell me,” he prods.
Peeking up at him, I admit, “I guess I was just thinking about last night.”
“And?”
“And I had fun. Thanks for…completely turning my world upside down.”
He chuckles softly. “Don’t mention it. I had fun too.”
“You did?”
“Of course.” He looks down at me, his eyebrows wrinkled together. “Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I’m not some big-city girl, Boris. I don’t even want to know about the girls from your past, let alone the ones I had to compete with to keep you entertained, even if it was just for one night.”
“Big-city girls?” He sits up a few inches. “Do I sense some insecurities, Princess?”
“You know what I mean,” I hedge. “I’m a bartender slash business student who wears jean shorts and tank tops and spends her money on drive-thru fish tacos and student loans. Tell me that’s not exactly your usual type.”
Toying with the strands of my hair, he doesn’t bother to argue. Because he can’t. Because I’m right. And it kind of sucks.
“Can I ask something, Princess?” he murmurs after a few seconds of silence.
“What?”
His chest expands beneath my cheek as he takes a deep breath. “What if I––”
The shrill ring of his cell cuts him off, and he groans before rolling over and fishing the phone from his grass-stained slacks.
“Hello?” he answers.
Silence.
His gaze darts over to mine. “Is that right?”
Silence.
“I understand that, Donny, but you have to see it from my point of view––”
His cool blue eyes hold mine before he scratches his jaw and tilts his head to the side, listening to whatever the person on the other end of the call is saying.
After a few seconds, he murmurs, “I’m feeling optimistic right now, so I’ll make you a deal, Donny. If Gibson comes on tour, babysits Fen, and sings a song or two on stage, then I’ll make it happen.”
Silence.
“Yeah, you owe me one,” he mutters.
Crawling over to him, I press a kiss between his shoulder blades, then dig my fingers into his tight muscles. His head rolls forward as he fights off a groan of appreciation and says, “One more thing, Donny. I want you to extend the invitation to Gibson’s friend.” He looks over his shoulder at me. “What was her name again?”
“Dove Walker,” I answer, kneading his muscles with all my strength.
“That’s right. Dove Walker.” He melts into me and closes his eyes, trying to focus on the conversation, though I have a feeling I’m making it difficult for him. “I want you to make sure she’s invited to tour with them. I think she’d do well.”
Silence.
“Yeah, I know she might be a nobody, but she’s got talent, Donny. Trust me. I saw it firsthand.”
Silence.
“Alright. Let me know how it goes,” Hawthorne replies. “We’ll talk soon.”
He hangs up the phone, turns around, and gives me his full attention. “Sorry about that––”
“You gave them another shot,” I interrupt.
Squeezing the back of his neck, a sheepish Boris shrugs one shoulder. “I guess I did.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I like you.”
My heart stalls in my chest before making up the lost beat in double time. Pushing the feelings aside, I challenge, “And you decided that was enough to put your reputation on the line?”
“Maybe.”
I press a soft kiss to his lips and peek up at him, committing the moment to memory. It might not seem like a big deal for this strong man to bend like this and give Broken Vows another chance, but I think it is. And he did it for me.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He cups the side of my face, dragging his calloused thumb along my cheekbone as his icy blue gaze scans my face. “I want to stay, Princess.”
With a subtle flinch, I blink slowly. “W-what?”
“I said…I want to stay. With you. Here.”
“But…” I shake my head.
He’s toying with me.
That has to be what he’s doing.
“What about work?” I ask. “What about your job? Your life? Why would you want to give all that up? Because I’ve what? Intrigued you?”
His soft smile melts a bit of my reservations as his warm hand squeezes my bare thigh. In my bedroom. After we just spent the perfect night together.
“Sam, you’ve done more than intrigue me. You’ve made me feel alive for the first time in years. As for my job, I travel for work. Who’s to say I can’t keep doing that as long as I come home to you?”
Home. To me.
This can’t be happening. It’s too good to be true. He’s too good to be true.
“You want that?” I whisper. “To come home here? In this little town?”
“If it’s where you are, then yes. I like you, Sammie Norris. I like you a lot.”
There are those damn words again.
My chest tightens, and I rub at the site, desperate to let myself fall while terrified of what will happen if I do.
“Tell me you don’t feel the same way,” he challenges, misinterpreting my hesitancy for indecision when I’ve never felt more sure of anything in my entire life.
And that’s what’s alarming.
“Tell me you aren’t curious about what this could turn into if we gave it a real shot, and I’ll leave. You’ll never have to see me again, and Broken Vows will still get their spot on tour. We’ll chalk last night up to a fun, romantic hook-up, and that’ll be it. But I felt something with you. Something I want to explore more. Like I said, Sammie, I like you. I like you a lot,” he repeats.
“I like you too,” I admit, terrified of how real the truth feels as it claws its way up my throat. “But…” My voice trails off as the same stupid what-if’s cloud my thoughts.
“But what, Sam?”
Chewing on my thumbnail, I peek up at him again. “What if I don’t keep you interested? What if you get bored––”
“With you?” He laughs. “Not possible. I told you, Sammie. My entire career is based on finding the diamond in the rough. And you’re a diamond. A princess. My princess, if you’ll have me.”
“Boris…”
“Tell me I’m crazy. Tell me you don’t feel the same way I do.”
“It’s been one night––”
“Yeah? Well, it’s been a decade of me searching for this feeling, and I’m not going to let you go without telling you how I feel. And before you get all freaked out by this conversation, I’m not saying I love you. I’m just saying that if we got to know each other better, I could. And I’m not going to let that go easily. What do you say, Sammie?”
The hope in his eyes––the vulnerability––almost knocks me on my ass before I press my forehead to his and breathe in deep, savoring his already familiar scent like it’s a fine wine.
How can I already miss someone when they’re right in front of me?
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, my voice nothing but a whisper.
“Neither am I.”
Then he kisses me, sealing our fate with a kiss that’s so sweet, so addictive, that I can almost see our future together. My days spent at SeaBird. My nights filled with Hawthorne. Traveling with him throughout the year. Listening to music. Loving life. And him. Loving him. With every fiber of my being. My Boris Hawthorne. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even convince him to take my last name.
A light laugh escapes me.
“Something funny?” he asks.
I shake my head, my heart close to bursting. “Nope. Nothing at all, Boris. Nothing at all.”
* * *
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