But now, as she zoomed toward Buxton, she had misgivings.
What if her father showed up at the Ocracoke Bistro to check on her? What if Bernie Mathers showed up at King Triton to place a special order and her father happened to be there? Surely he’d ask how his daughters were getting on. She sighed. This wasn’t the sort of lie that could remain out there forever. She and Kyrstin would have to find a way to wiggle out of it.
But not yet.
For now, her sister should have the right to follow her dream, Laire could take the job at the Pamlico House, and someday soon, they’d come clean.
She smiled into the wind, letting herself be excited for Kyrstin—and for herself. We’re making our dreams come true! It felt so good . . . and somehow it mitigated her nerves over seeing Erik Rexford again tonight.
With all the jockeying it had taken to make tonight happen, she hadn’t been able to keep Erik Rexford in the forefront of her mind, but now? Knowing she’d see him again so soon? Her heart started fluttering, and she wondered—for the thousandth time—what a boy like him wanted with a girl like her. She couldn’t answer that question to save her life, nor could she refuse herself the opportunity to find out.
Keeping herself off-limits to the island boys had given Laire a reputation for being cold and uptight, but that was just a persona that she employed to ensure her name was never tangled up with someone else’s. Inside, she was just as hot and curious as any other teenage girl who got quivers below her belly when she walked in on Kyrstin and Remy making out half naked, or saw a movie where a boy and girl fell madly in love and moved against each other, skin to skin, moaning and writhing with need and passion.
Like the parents of three other girls in her class, her father had pulled her out of school on the one day in sixth grade that they taught sex ed, instead asking Isolde to have a word with Laire “at some point.” But even though Isolde, a senior in high school at the time, had been dating Paul for years, she’d colored as red as an apple and never broached the subject with her little sister. There’d been no official talk. Whatever information Laire had about boys and sex had come from her sisters talking about their boyfriends and whatever she could glean from TV shows and movies. In short, she knew the facts about the facts of life, but she figured that was a hell of a lot different from firsthand experience.
For the first time in her life, she wanted that experience. Last night, she’d dreamed that she was in one of those movie sex scenes with Erik Rexford, skin to skin, with his body moving over hers, creating an ache deep inside her that had lingered all day and told her something very important: she wanted Erik Rexford to smile at her, to touch her, maybe even—in her wildest dreams only, of course—to do the things that Brodie Walsh had bragged about them doing. But most of all . . .
. . . she wanted him to kiss her.
She just wasn’t totally sure how to go about making that happen.
By off-island standards, Laire knew, she was woefully inexperienced, but up until this moment, that hadn’t been an issue, because she had no interest in any of the boys she’d grown up with. Now she bit her bottom lip, wishing she knew more or had a little more experience. For a moment, she remembered Erik Rexford staring at her mouth with such raw hunger, it had set her entire body on fire. Did that mean he wanted to kiss her too? It had to mean something, right?
She released her lip with a determined pop.
No matter what else happened tonight, Laire wanted her first kiss, and she wanted it from Erik Rexford, the closest she would ever come to her own Prince Charming. And then, no matter what else happened in her life, she’d have the memory of Erik’s kiss. She’d know, for the remainder of her days, how it felt to be wanted by someone like him.
Ignoring the swarm of butterflies invading her belly, she pushed down on the throttle and raced the rest of the way to Buxton.
Tilting her wrist to check the time as she tied up at the Pamlico House, Laire found that it was seven forty, and she quickly changed into the cream suede mules she’d bought brand-new for Kyrstin’s wedding. They were the best shoes she had, but she’d have to be careful not to scuff them, or her sister would surely complain.