Relief flooded his features and he began to shake with laughter. “You have plenty of time tae do your hair, wee yin.”
A thought occurred to me and I sat up, still straddling him. “Maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t want them to think I’m like your ex the way Jamie did. He said we both had that shiny, polished look. Maybe I should leave off the makeup and not style my hair so they don’t think—” The rest of my sentence was muffled against his big hand clamped over my mouth.
He didn’t look amused anymore. “You’ll wear what you want. You’ll be Ava and no one else for them. I’ve already told them loads about you and they’re happy you make me happy. That’s all they care about.”
I slumped against his hold and he released my mouth. “You’re sure? I want them to like me.”
He gripped my waist and gave it a squeeze. “I love that you care so much about them liking you, but I dinnae want you working yourself into a worry about it. My family will love you but all that matters is that I love you and you love me. Right?”
And just like that I melted and my anxiety momentarily fled. “Right.”
“And you already know Jamie likes you. That’s one down.”
I did know that. Jamie had made it clear over the last few weeks that he was grateful to me for making Caleb happy again. For giving him back hope for the future. Funnily enough, however, now that Caleb’s simmering anger had abated, I saw clearly for the first time that the similarity I’d noted between the two brothers had nothing to do with physical appearance really.
They both had this underlying bitterness in their ice blue eyes.
“He doesn’t seem happy,” I whispered all of a sudden.
Caleb’s grip on me tightened in response. “Quinn,” he replied, his voice like sandpaper against the name. “He was Jamie’s twin. Jamie was in the car with him when Quinn lost control of the car.”
His words pierced my heart and suddenly that bitterness in Jamie’s eyes made so much sense.
Although Caleb would never truly get over what Carissa did—and it hurt that I couldn’t repair that damage—the bitterness in his eyes had dissipated. Every day it got chipped away at by our love. Sound cheesy? Maybe. But it was beautiful and it was true.
Jamie’s bitterness, however, was still there and now I knew why. “I wish there was something we could do for him,” I said, heart aching for his brother.
“Well … we can only hope one day he meets his Ava.”
Love broke through the empathetic ache in my chest. I was no longer astonished by Caleb’s romantic side. He showed me it more and more each day—the man he had been before Carissa. The man he was becoming again. “We’re staying in this bed until one o’clock.” I kissed him, pressing my lower body to his.
“Again?”
I kissed along his jaw, his stubble prickling and tickling my lips. “I’m going to wring you dry, Caleb Scott,” I purred, biting his earlobe.
“Do with me what you will, wee yin.” He wrapped his arms tight around me, binding me to him as he whispered in my ear, “Every inch of me is yours.”
Acknowledgments
First, I have to thank Amy Jennings for coming up with the title of this book. I asked all the amazing folks in my Facebook readers group “Sam’s Clan McBookish” for help in choosing a title for this manuscript. I gave you all hardly anything to go on, and yet, Amy, you somehow produced the most fitting title. Thank you!
Moreover, thank you to all the readers in my Facebook Clan who show me love and support and so much enthusiasm on a daily basis. I’d be lost without you!
I want to also say a massive thank you to the team of people around me who, whether directly or indirectly, help make each book develop into the best story it can be: my fantastic agent, Lauren Abramo; my wonderful editor, Kerry Donovan; the brilliant team at Berkley; my fabulous publicist, KP Simmon; my “can’t live without you” PA, Ashleen Walker; my awesome friends and family; and my supportive author buds.
All of you encourage me and challenge me in the best way possible. You find ways to make my life easier, and I’m grateful for you.
And finally, the biggest thank you of all to my tremendous readers. What are words without someone to read them? Thank you.
Don’t miss the first book in
Samantha Young’s Hart’s Boardwalk series,
The One Real Thing
Available now.
Turn the page for a special excerpt.
One of my favorite feelings in the whole world is that moment I step inside a hot shower after having been caught outside in cold, lashing rain. The transformation from clothes-soaked-to-the-skin misery to soothing warmth is unlike any other. I love the resultant goose bumps and the way my whole body relaxes under the stream of warm water. In that pure, simple moment all accumulated worries just wash away with the rain.
The moment I met Cooper Lawson felt exactly like that hot shower after a very long, cold storm.
The day hadn’t started out all sunshine and clear skies. It was a little gray outside and there were definite clouds, but I still hadn’t been prepared for the sudden deluge of rain that flooded from the heavens as I was walking along the boardwalk in the seaside city of Hartwell.
My eyes darted for the closest available shelter and I dashed toward it—a closed bar that had an awning. Soaked within seconds, blinded by rain, and irritated by the icky feeling of my clothes sticking to my skin, I wasn’t really paying much attention to anything else but getting to the awning. That was why I ran smack into a hard, masculine body.
If the man’s arms hadn’t reached out to catch me I would have bounced right onto my ass.
I pushed my soaked hair out of my eyes and looked up in apology at the person I had so rudely collided with.
Warm blue eyes met mine. Blue, blue eyes. Like the Aegean Sea that surrounded Santorini. I’d vacationed there a few years back and the water there was the bluest I’d ever seen.
Once I was able to drag my gaze from the startling color of those eyes, I took in the face they were set upon. Rugged, masculine.
My eyes drifted over his broad shoulders and my head tipped back to take in his face because the guy was well over six feet tall. The hands that were still on my biceps, steadying me, were big, long fingered, and callused against my bare skin.
Despite the cold, I felt my body flush with the heat of awareness and I stepped out of the stranger’s hold.
“Sorry,” I said, slicking my wet hair back, grinning apologetically. “That rain came out of nowhere.”
He gave a brief nod as he pushed his wet dark hair back from his forehead. The blue flannel shirt he wore over a white T-shirt was soaked through, too, and I suddenly found myself staring at the way the T-shirt clung to his torso.
There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him.
I thought I heard a chortle of laughter and my eyes flew to his face, startled—and horrified at the thought of being caught ogling. There was no smirk or smile on his lips, however, although there was definitely amusement in those magnificent eyes of his. Without saying a word he reached out for the door to the quaint building and pushed. The door swung open and he stepped inside what was an empty and decidedly closed bar.
Oh.
Okay for some, I thought, staring glumly out at the way the rain pounded the boardwalk, turning the boards slick and slippery. I wondered how long I’d be stuck there.
“You can wait out there if you want. Or not.”
The deep voice brought my head back around. The blue-eyed, rugged, flannel guy was staring at me.
I peered past him at the empty bar, unsure if he was allowed to be in there. “Are you sure it’s alright?”
He merely nodded, not giving me the explanation I sought for why it was alright.
I stared back at the rain and then back into the dry bar.
Stay out here shivering in the rain or step inside an empty bar with a strange man?
The stranger noted my indecision and somehow he managed to laugh at me without moving his mouth.