Page 22

HARLOW

This week at work with my upcoming masquerade ball is crazy.

It almost means I forget about the fact that I hear nothing from Corey until almost midnight on Thursday, by which time I’d pretty much decided he’d bailed and that anything between us was done.

It was probably the way it should have been.

I have enough on my plate with my aunt’s health and work, but I couldn’t help but be disappointed.

I look down at his message again.

Brit Boy: Be ready for seven. I’ll pick you up.

That’s it. No other instruction, no hint as to what we could be doing. Nothing.

“So …” Brooke says, staring into my closet.

“I don’t know. I’m sure whatever we choose will be wrong.”

“Choosing something that will make you look like sex on legs could never be wrong.”

“This is a date, not a hook-up.”

“They can be the same thing. You want to be prepared for the best outcome, always.”

“Just grab me a denim skirt and top.”

“Har—”

“No,” I say, holding my hand up to halt her. “You can do the hair and makeup. I choose the clothes.”

“Fine, fine,” she concedes, pulling my favorite skirt from the closet, closely followed by a couple of tanks.

“Black and this,” I say, grabbing a light floral cardigan.

“Okay, yeah. That’s cute.”

“Thank you.”

I allow her to curl my hair, and to my delight, she doesn’t go too heavy-handed with the makeup for once.

I sip away at an overly strong rum and Coke Brooke made to help settle my nerves, but when my head starts to swim before he’s even here, I regret it.

I want to make decisions I won’t regret in the morning.

The beeping of a horn has us both jumping up. Brooke runs to the window like someone set her ass on fire.

“Oh my God,” she gasps.

I take a step toward her, but she pulls the curtains closed so I can’t see anything.

“No, go and meet him and find out for yourself.”

“But—”

“Nope. No buts. Just go and enjoy yourself.”

I blow out a breath in the hope it’ll calm my racing heart. It does nothing.

“Okay. I’ve got this.”

I’m almost at the stairs when I hear her again.

“Have you got condoms?”

I don’t answer, although my cheeks do heat as I recall sliding a box into my purse earlier today. Like the man said himself: always be prepared.

My legs are like jelly as I make my way to the front door, my heart hammering in my chest.

Pulling my purse up higher on my shoulder, I open the door and close my eyes for a beat in an attempt to prepare myself for what’s waiting for me.

“Oh my God,” I breathe, repeating Brooke’s reaction. I can honestly say that this was the last thing I was expecting to see.

I step from the house as Corey drops down from the driver’s seat of the vintage Volkswagen camper.

But the second he emerges, the vehicle vanishes into the background.

All I can see is him. He’s wearing a skintight white T-shirt that stretches across his wide shoulders and shows off his pecs and abs to perfection.

My mouth is watering long before I drop my eyes to take in his denim-clad thighs.

When I find my way back up to his eyes, he seems to be looking at me with a familiar heat in his blue depths.

“Hey,” I say, dragging his attention back to my face.

“Hey yourself. You look stunning.”

My cheeks burn at his compliment. “T-thank you. You don’t look so bad either.” He smirks, and I swear his cheeks heat a little. “So, what are we doing?”

“Fancy a little drive?”

Excitement races though me. I’ve always wanted to have a camper vacation but never had the chance.

The trips we had when I was a kid were usually abroad in fancy hotels.

I’ve never done anything like this—well, aside from passing out somewhere random in my former years that I’d rather not think about.

“Yes,” I squeal, moving for the passenger door.

“Let me,” Corey says, reaching for the handle and opening it for me like a gentleman.

“Thank you.”

I strap myself in as he jogs around to the other side. Movement in my bedroom window catches my eye, and when I look up, I find Brooke still watching us. She makes a heart gesture with her hands before blowing me a kiss.

He backs out the drive, turning the music down a little so we can talk.

“Does she interfere with every part of your life?” he asks with a laugh.

“She just wants me to be happy. Have you had a good week?” I ask, not wanting to talk about Brooke and her best intentions right now. Wanting to know why it took him until Thursday night to message is much more pressing.

“Yeah, really busy.” He chats away about some of his clients. The passion and enthusiasm for his job is infectious. “I had dinner with Milo and his parents last night. Seemed he knew all about us.”

My heart thuds in my chest. Does he think there is an us?

“I’m not surprised. I’m sure we were the hot topic of conversation at the arena.”

“Fantastic,” he mutters lightheartedly. “What about you? Any epic fundraisers on the horizon?”

“Yes, actually. I have a ball coming up. Black ties, ballgowns, silent auction, the whole shebang.”

“Sounds impressive.”

“It’s my first big event. I’ve only done a few fun runs and some work with the local schools so far. I’m kind of terrified.”

“It’ll be amazing.”

“Reese is supporting me, and she’s incredible.

It should raise a lot of money for the Foundation, if it goes to plan.

” I tell him about the team having to attend along with longstanding season ticket holders and other wealthy figureheads in the community, as well as the entertainment for the night as he drives to wherever it is we’re going. I don’t bother asking; I trust him.

We approach the ocean at roughly the same time we did on Sunday night. The sun is beginning to set, casting a gorgeous orange glow across the bay.

The beach is almost empty, just a couple walking along the water’s edge and the odd surfer attempting to catch the last of the sunlight.

Corey drives the length of the parking lot before continuing onto the sand.

“Are we allowed to drive out here?”

“Do you always follow all the rules?”

“Uh … yeah, actually.”

“Well, maybe it’s time to reconsider. Things can be much more fun when you break them.”

“You’d better show me, then.”

He glances over, mischief dancing in his eyes, and a wave of desire hits me.

He pulls the camper to a stop on a secluded bit of the beach. The few people we could see when we first arrived are no longer visible, making it seem like we’re the only ones here. It’s a heady thought, knowing that we’re totally alone once again.

“Do you want to eat inside or out?”

I glance over my shoulder at the stunning old-fashioned fittings, but as tempting as they are, I want to watch the sun make its final descent for the day.

“Outside. Definitely outside.”

“Come on, then.”

He hops out of the camper before coming around for me, but my feet are already heading for the sand below.

His need to help must get the better of him, because he steps forward and wraps his arm around my waist. Our chests crash together, his hard lines against my soft curves, and I just about manage to swallow the groan of pleasure that threatens to rumble up my throat at his contact.

Slowly, he lowers me until my feet hit the ground.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” he whispers, his deep voice hitting right between my legs.

“Oh, and here I was, thinking you’d forgotten.”

“Never. You’re all I’ve been able to think about.” To make his point, he presses his already hard length against me.

“Oh,” falls from my lips, but it’s no more than a breathy whisper.

“Every time I look at my chair, I see you laid out on it in your underwear. I’m pretty sure the guys I’ve seen this week all think I’m gay.”

I can’t help but bark out a laugh. “Whatever turns you on, Brit boy.”

His hand slips around the back of my neck as he drops his head slightly. Desire pulls at my lower stomach, and I lick my lips in preparation for what I hope is going to come.

“You, Lo. Only you.” His lips brush mine, as my stomach flutters with the way he says that nickname, but he doesn’t give me what I need.

When I give in to temptation and move toward him, he pulls back, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

“We should eat.”

He takes a huge step away as I fall back against the van, trying to catch my breath, and drag my head from the clouds.

I stand, feeling a little lost as he grabs a few things from the back of the camper and places them down on the sand.

“Help me with this,” he says, holding a blanket out toward me.

I grab one corner, and together we shake it out and set up our picnic. He places a wicker basket in the center before throwing a couple of cushions down and re-emerging from the camper with a chilled bottle of wine.

He passes it over, and the label makes my heart race. I feel ridiculous that the sight of a bottle of wine can affect me, but I can’t help it.

“D-do you have anything else to drink?” I ask, wishing I could just suck it up and enjoy it.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry. I forgot you don’t drink it.”

“I-It’s not that. It just reminds me of my parents.” My cheeks flush, feeling ridiculous.

“Oh … um …” He jumps back into the camper and pulls out a bottle of rum.

“You brought some as well.”

Heat creeps onto his cheeks. “I was trying to be all romantic and shit.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Everything is perfect, Corey.”

“I borrowed my aunt and uncle’s camper and made a picnic. It’s not exactly the date of the century.”

Once he’s settled beside me, I reach over and place my hand over his.

“It’s perfect.”

“Really?” He glances over at me, and I love the little bit of vulnerability in his eyes.

“Really.”

We fall silent for a few seconds as a young family walks across the beach. We’re not close enough to hear what they’re saying, but I can’t help smiling as I watch their toddler attempt to chase their dog.

Corey sighs, dragging my attention back to him. “Hungry?” he asks before I can ask if he’s okay.

“Starved.”