“And I don’t want to date Van, let alone marry her!”
“Somethin’ that should be made clear to her at some point,” Hillary said.
“I just . . . God! I like this girl.”
“Laire, the local fisherman’s daughter who delivers seafood?”
“She’s also a waitress.”
“Christ.”
He sneered at her. “Why is that bad? Why are we such fuckin’ snobs?”
“We’re not. I don’t care if your new girlfriend is a waitress or a seafood delivery girl. I’m sure she’s a nice person, but Fancy—”
“She’s a lot more than a nice person, Hills. She’s interestin’and fun, and she’s different, really different, than anyone we know. And she’s smokin’ hot and—”
“I get it,” said Hillary. “You genuinely like her.”
“A lot.”
Hillary reached for his arm. “Then keep her a secret. Ironclad. Don’t take any chances. Because if Fancy finds out? It’s over.”
He took a deep breath and nodded at his sister. “Will do. Thanks, Hills.”
She gave him a small smile, reaching for the door handle.
“Hey,” he said, reaching for her arm before she could leave. “Fuck Pete. Forget about him. Find someone else. If he doesn’t see how awesome you are, Hills, he doesn’t deserve you.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I wish I could. I wish I could forget about him and move on.”
“But you can’t.”
She sighed. “Not a chance.”
“Then you’re going to have to do somethin’ at some point. You know that, right? Pete’s about as thick as they come. I mean, awesome and fun and loyal, but he’s not goin’ to see you if you don’t speak up.”
“Van casts a long shadow,” said Hillary. “I know.”
Erik grinned at her. “Thanks for the talk.”
She left the car and closed the door, keeping her hands on the frame before looking down at him, a curious expression in her eyes.
“Exactly how long have you known that you didn’t want to go into politics? And when exactly are you plannin’ to share that delicious nugget of news with Fancy and Daddy? I want to be sure I don’t miss the fireworks.”
“Forever,” said Erik on a long sigh. “I have no fuckin’ interest in it.”
“What about the law?” she asked.
“I don’t mind it,” said Erik. “But all things equal, I’d just as soon go into entertainment law and work with a professional sports team.”
“A sports team. Oh, Lord!” said Hillary, giving him one last look as she left the garage, muttering under her breath. “This is shapin’ up to be quite a summer.”
Chapter 8
“Hey!” called Erik, waving at her from the top of the gangplank, a beaming smile making her heart—and most of her worries—take flight.
Laire had checked out all the boats in the marina when she got there, relieved to see none that she recognized, but she was still wary of being seen, so she’d chosen to wear a floppy beach hat and sunglasses for their date. Both had been her mother’s, once upon a time, which gave her a little extra courage as she walked toward her beau . . . in the middle of the day . . . in public.
Her daddy’s Stingray didn’t have a forward cabin where she could change, so she’d gotten ready in the ladies’ room at the Pamlico House, brushing out her hair and swiping on a little makeup. By cutting off some old jeans, she’d made herself a pair of cute and trendy denim shorts. She paired them with a hot-pink polo-style shirt, made from leftover material she’d used to make a maternity dress for Issy.
Flip-flops purchased at the Pamlico House gift shop with a hot pink and Kelly green grosgrain ribbon and a matching D-loop belt, rounded out her outfit. All those ladies she noticed the first night she and Erik had dined there passed through her mind as she approached him: she was preppy enough to fit in with any of them now. She just hoped Erik liked the way she looked too, which, judging from the grin on his face, was already a done deal.
“Hey,” she said, pulling off her sunglasses as she got to the top.
“Damn, woman. You look good enough to eat,” he said, reaching for her and pulling her into his arms. He brushed her lips with a kiss. “I can’t decide if I want to show you off or take you to a secluded spot and hide you for the rest of the day!”
“I can’t believe we have the whole day,” she said, breathless from excitement and being so close to Erik again.
“I brought my chariot,” he said, glancing toward the parking lot. “Want to see my kingdom?”
“Your kingdom?” she said. “The Banks is more mine than yours!”
He chuckled. “Fair enough, but we’re not allowed in your part.”
True. “So where did you have in mind?”
“Ever been to the Elizabethan Gardens up in Manteo?”