All for You (Sweetbriar Cove Book 2) Page 13

  OK, she was exaggerating. Grayson had been perfectly polite—and maybe that was what riled her so. Only moments before, he’d been thrusting deep inside her, wild and abandoned, then suddenly, he flipped a switch, and the careful, controlled Grayson was back. Call her crazy, but she preferred the one sending her to heaven and back with every stroke of his hard, lean body.

  Still, Summer couldn’t stay annoyed long, not when her limbs ached with a sweet exhaustion from their afternoon rolling in his sheets. The sun was sinking over the orchard when she arrived back at the bakery. She had just opened the back door and heaved her fruits and vegetables onto the counter when her phone rang.

  “Hey Poppy,” she said, happily answering. A strawberry rolled free and she couldn’t resist taking a bite, the sweet flavor immediately taking her back to Grayson’s bedroom and that clafoutis he’d fed her, naked in the sheets.

  “. . . maybe come over in a half hour?”

  Summer snapped out of her memories. “Sorry, what did you just say?”

  Poppy laughed. “Let me guess, you’re deep in a recipe? You zone out the way I do when I’m writing a chapter.”

  “Something like that.” Summer smiled and put everything away. “You said something about a girls’ night?”

  “At the new house. Our house,” Poppy added, “Although it feels weird to have an ‘ours.’ Cooper’s got a poker thing with his buddies, so we’ve got the run of the place.”

  “Oh yes, Grayson’s there too.”

  “And how do you know how your landlord is spending his Saturday nights?” Poppy asked, and Summer couldn’t keep the smile from her voice.

  “Well . . .”

  Poppy squealed. “I knew it! I knew that staid routine of his was just an act. Now you have to come and spill all the details.”

  “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” Summer said primly, and Poppy snorted.

  “Then it’s a good thing I don’t see any ladies around. Come meet us at the new house. I’m picking up a platter of seafood from the harbor and Mackenzie’s bringing the wine.”

  Summer’s stomach growled. “Sounds like a date.”

  She quickly showered and threw on some jeans and her favorite comfy sweatshirt. She had a couple of packages of cookie dough chilling in the fridge she’d planned to bake tomorrow, but what the hell: it was practically illegal to show up to girls’ night without some sweet treats. She drove the short distance down through town, looking forward to some much-needed girl talk. She had to admit, having her best friend so close was a wonderful part of her new life in Sweetbriar. Back in the city, they’d lived ten blocks apart, but barely snatched the odd coffee or movie night in between Summer’s crazy restaurant schedule and Poppy’s deadlines. They’d seen more of each other in the weeks since she’d arrived in town than they had all year, and Summer had a feeling she’d be needing her friend’s romance writer expertise when it came to deciphering Grayson’s mixed messages.

  “What did you bring?” Poppy greeted her at the door with an excited look. She sniffed the air. “Cake? Chocolate? Tell me you brought chocolate, I’m PMS-ing like crazy over here.”

  Summer laughed. “Great to see you too,” she teased, hugging Poppy and following her inside. “You know, sometimes I wonder if you only love me for my cookies. If I quit to become an accountant, you’d drop me in a shot.”

  “Never,” Poppy vowed, then shot her a hopeful look. “Does that mean you brought cookies?”

  “Double-chocolate chunk, just the way my baby likes.” Summer gave her a wink.

  “You’re so good to me.” Poppy beamed. “Come on back. Mackenzie’s already opened the wine and we’re christening the new deck.”

  Summer followed her through the house. Cooper had renovated the place himself, and they’d just started moving pieces in. “I can’t believe you get to live here,” she said, looking around. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

  “I know. The house . . . the man . . . I feel like I woke up in one of my happy endings,” Poppy smiled. “I just have to hope there’s no last-minute plot twist and it turns into a Game of Thrones book.”

  “Executions and orgies with old dudes in the woods?”

  “And you know how I hate the cold,” Poppy agreed.

  “But think of all the hot Stark brothers.” Mackenzie joined them, coming in from the deck. She had a glass of wine in one hand and a lobster roll in the other. “Sorry, couldn’t resist starting. Put buttered carbs in a fifty-foot radius, and I won’t be held responsible for the consequences.”

  “I knew I liked you.” Summer laughed. “Let me just throw these cookies in the oven, and I’ll get catching up.” With the dough already mixed, it only took her a moment to get them on a baking sheet and rejoin the party on the back deck—which of course was drop-dead gorgeous, with sweeping views of the bay.

  “Here.” Mackenzie put a glass in her hand and poured. “For the chef.”

  “Cheers.”

  They toasted, and Summer relaxed in a chair while Poppy fixed them some plates of lobster rolls and salad. “So what have you been up to?” Poppy asked. “I bet you’ve been baking around the clock.”

  “Almost,” Summer agreed, sipping her wine. “But I did take some time off this afternoon . . . to give Grayson a little lesson.”

  And then Grayson had given her one in exchange—a thorough demonstration of just what a real man could do in the bedroom. Summer tried to keep her smile off her face, but clearly, she wasn’t fooling anyone, because Poppy gave a little squeal.

  “I knew it! You’re all glowy. Either that, or you’re using a new moisturizer.”

  “No face cream.” Summer allowed her grin to spread. “Just some . . . rest and relaxation.”

  “Sure. Rest.” Poppy grinned. “All that sexual tension between you, and you did nothing but nap.”

  Summer laughed. “You know me, I love to nap.”

  Mackenzie looked back and forth between them and laughed. “First Cooper, now Grayson. At this rate, there won’t be a single man in Sweetbriar by the end of summer.”

  “We’ll find you someone,” Poppy said, supportive, but Mackenzie just snorted.

  “That wasn’t a hint, believe me. To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do with a guy around,” she added, topping up her glass. “I’ve got my own thing going on, and I like it. A man would just get in the way.”

  “They have some uses,” Poppy protested, and Summer grinned.

  “Sure they do.”

  “I meant lifting heavy things,” Poppy said primly, the picture of innocence. “Changing tires, fixing the sink.”

  “I can do all that on my own.” Mackenzie shrugged. “Anyway, this isn’t about me,” she added, turning back to Summer. “Does this mean the man of steel actually has a squishy beating heart under those stern looks?”

  “He’s not that bad!” Summer laughed.

  “What?” Poppy interrupted. “You were the one complaining about his strong, silent routine.”

  “OK, so I was wrong about him,” Summer admitted. “He’s . . .”

  She trailed off, searching for the right word. But the truth was, even though she’d seen a different side to Grayson now—a warmer, more passionate side—she still wasn’t quite sure about the pieces that made up his puzzle of a personality. He was stern and silent, and a stickler for the rules—as his swift switch that evening had proven.

  “He’s complicated,” she settled on at last. “I haven’t got him figured out just yet. He’s definitely a man of many layers. Even now, I still don’t know where we stand,” she admitted, feeling that rejection again—a sting of insecurity she tried her best to ignore. “But that’s OK,” she insisted loudly. “I mean, it’s early days. Not everything has to be labeled or official.”

  “But you like him,” Mackenzie said. It was a statement, not a question.

  Summer nodded. “I like him,” she repeated softly. It wasn’t just the chemistry between them now, there was something more. Spending time wi
th him, peeling back those layers he kept so carefully guarded, and most of all, she liked how she felt with him.

  Adventurous. Free.

  Herself.

  “So, there’s no need to rush things,” Summer said again, trying to convince herself. “I’m in no hurry. I just took out a lease—it’s not like I’m going anywhere soon.”

  Except back to Grayson’s bed.

  She snapped her thoughts away. “The cookies!” she exclaimed, suddenly remembering. She half got up, but Poppy shooed her back into her seat.

  “I’ll get them, you stay here.”

  “Wait, we need more wine,” Mackenzie added, and followed her into the house.

  For a moment, Summer was left alone on the deck. She couldn’t resist pulling her phone out, her fingers pausing on the screen. It was a wicked thought, but she wanted to remind him of the hours they spent tangled up in each other’s arms. And maybe drive him to distraction, too.

  I can still feel you, she typed out, then hit send before she could chicken out.

  A second later, the bubble of ellipses appeared on her screen. He was typing a reply. Then it disappeared. And reappeared. And disappeared again.

  Whatever he was writing, he was thinking twice about sending it in the end.

  Summer tried not to feel disappointed. She should have guessed the taciturn Brit wasn’t one for naughty texts.

  “Busted,” Poppy’s voice came beside her, and Summer yelped.

  “You scared me!”

  “Sorry.” Poppy grinned, setting down the plate of fresh-baked cookies. “Let me guess, you’re getting in some hot and heavy text action.”

  “Not exactly.” Summer tucked her phone away. Enough obsessing. Who needed Grayson when she had her friends, a bottle of wine, and double-chocolate chunk delight to keep her happy?

  And at least he had something to think about now.

  15

  I can still feel you.

  Grayson stared at the short message, and damn if he didn’t need her all over again.

  “Grayson, it’s your turn.”

  He looked up, almost surprised to find he was still in the back room at the bookshop, sitting at the poker table with Riley, Cooper, and a couple of other guys. “Sorry,” he said, staring at his hand like he’d never seen the cards before. “Uh, raise.”

  He pushed a couple of M&Ms into the cluster in the middle of the table. Cooper arched his eyebrow. “Big spender,” he teased. “Does this mean you’re holding a bust?”

  “You’ll see.” Grayson tried to keep his poker face, but his mind was still miles away—back in bed with Summer, watching her face change as he slowly moved inside her.

  “. . . for the construction in the fall.”

  “What?” His head snapped around. Riley laughed.

  “Man, you’re out of it tonight. I’m not complaining,” he added, taking a swig of beer. “You’ll be easier to destroy with this killer hand of mine.”

  “Yeah, yeah, keep talking.” Grayson rolled his eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  The play moved on, but Grayson struggled to keep his attention on the table. His phone seemed to burn a hole in his pocket, inviting some reply.

  He snuck it out, and typed a response.

  You’re going to make me lose this game.

  He could imagine Summer laughing at that, and a moment later, the reply came.

  I haven’t even told you what I’m wearing yet.

  Or not wearing.

  He clenched his jaw. Maybe she was messing with him, but damn, it was working. Now he couldn’t shake the image of her, wearing nothing but her lingerie . . . or even better, naked in his sheets.

  Was she at home right now?

  His body ached to go to her, but Grayson fought the urge. He had poker night, and more than that, it was the principle of the thing. He wasn’t a kid, ruled by his hormones. He was a damn adult. He could last more than an hour before racing back home again to get his next fix.

  “Dude.”

  Something hit his face, and Grayson blinked back again, just in time to duck the next M&M Riley tossed at his head. “What the hell?”

  “Your turn again.” Riley laughed. “I’d ask what’s gotten you so distracted, but there’s only one thing that could make a man zone out like that.”

  “How is Summer?” Cooper asked with a smirk.

  Grayson shifted, uncomfortable. He wasn’t the kind of man to make his private business public knowledge. In fact, he prided himself on keeping his personal affairs out of the Sweetbriar gossip mill.

  “I’d imagine she’s fine,” he said coolly, just as his phone vibrated with another text. He couldn’t stop himself reaching to check it.

  I want you.

  Three little words, but they sent a bolt of lust slamming hard through his body.

  “Grayson?” Riley prompted him again, sounding amused.

  The game. Grayson paused, flustered. “I . . . um, fold.” He tossed his cards down and pushed his chair back. “Beer, anyone?”

  He bolted for the kitchen before anyone replied. He’d had a good hand, a certain winner, in fact, if Riley’s bluffing was anything to go by, but suddenly, poker was the last thing on his mind.

  How did she know just how to get under his skin like this?

  Grayson pulled open the refrigerator door. Never mind a cold beer, he needed to stick his whole head in there until he cooled down. Which would probably be in another hundred years, if Summer kept sending him those tantalizing texts.

  Riley joined him in the tiny kitchen, leaning in the doorway as he took a sip of his beer. “It’s not like you to be distracted,” he said casually. “And definitely not by a woman.”

  “I’m not a monk,” Grayson replied, irritable. He remembered Summer’s teasing, that day by the pond—which made him remember how she looked in that blue bikini . . . and out of that blue bikini.

  He slammed the fridge shut. “You can talk. You’ve got a different girl every week behind that bar.”

  Riley shrugged. “Yeah, but they don’t make me fold a perfectly good hand of cards.” He gave Grayson another assessing look. “Then again, they don’t look like Summer. Or bake like her, either. The things a man would do for those Pop-Tarts . . . But what am I saying?” he added, grinning. “You already got a taste.”

  Grayson cleared his throat. Damn right he did, and now he was going crazy trying to think about anything else.

  “It’s just a casual thing,” he insisted, even though the heat in his bloodstream right now felt anything but casual. “We barely know each other.”

  His phone buzzed again with a new message, and it took every ounce of self-control not to snatch his phone out to see what she’d sent.

  “Sure it is,” Riley looked amused. “I’ll let you get back to those casual messages,” he added with a wink, before sauntering away.

  Grayson scowled after him. Couldn’t two people hook up in this town without it being roses and diamonds and the front page headline in the Gazette? He barely knew Summer, and already people thought they were getting serious. Seriously naked.

  Which they had been. Just a couple of hours ago . . .

  His phone buzzed again. He pulled it out and clicked fast.

  Come over when you’re done. I’m making something special . . .

  Grayson stifled a groan. Who was he fooling? He’d be lined up outside her door for day-old leftovers, let alone whatever magic she was cooking up tonight.

  He’d already fallen once. What harm could it do to have one more taste?

  Grayson lost every hand for the rest of the night, but for some reason, he didn’t care. He was just counting down the minutes until the guys finally called it a night, and he then he drove over to the bakery so fast, it was a good thing Officer Kluntz wasn’t around to ticket him for speeding.

  He pulled up out front and took a breath. Calm.

  Moderation, remember?

  He slowly exited the Jeep and strolled to the front door. He
knocked. There was no reply, but when he tried the handle, it was unlocked, so he stepped inside. “Hello?” he called. “Summer?”

  There was no answer, but he could hear music coming from the kitchen.

  He should have guessed.

  This time, it was jazz playing, something sultry. He went on back, and found the most beautiful feast he’d ever laid eyes on: Summer, dressed only in skimpy silk shorts and a red camisole, mixing up something at the counter.

  Grayson stood in the doorway, just taking in the scene. Her hair was half-pinned up, tumbling in dark curls over her bare shoulders. She was dancing, swaying to the music with the windows open wide and the night breeze light on her skin.

  Grayson felt something ache in his chest, halfway between longing and pure lust.

  God, she was beautiful. So focused on adding ingredients that she didn’t even notice he was standing there until she tasted the mixture, licking a smear of chocolate from her lips, and he groaned out loud.

  She looked up, her cheeks flushing. “Hey,” she said softly. “How was the game?”

  What game? Grayson stared at her dumbly for a moment. Right now, she was the only thing that existed in the world.

  “Oh, yeah.” He blinked back to reality. Poker. “I lost. Someone was driving me to distraction.”

  Summer gave a mischievous smile. “Whoops,” she said, teasing. “I’m sorry.”

  “No you’re not.” Grayson grinned.

  She laughed. “You’re right. Here, try this.”

  She put the spoon to his lips, and Grayson couldn’t stop himself from taking a taste.

  The flavor shocked him: rich chocolate, with a spicy depth he’d never tasted before. It was smooth, almost bitter, and sexy as hell.

  “Mmm.” He moved closer, reaching for her, but Summer danced out of his grasp.

  “Flourless chocolate torte,” she said, with a wicked glint in her eye. “It’s the ultimate indulgence. Nobody can resist its charms.”