“He’s not my boyfriend,” Sheryl muttered to her mother for the third time. “I hired him to help me with a problem, and we’re just going to the bonfire tonight. That’s all.”
“The bonfire,” her mom said. “That’s…romantic.”
“Mom, stop.” She turned from the fridge, where she’d taken far too long to find the bottle of ketchup. “You just heat this at four hundred degrees for about an hour,” she said in a much louder voice.
Gage had sat at the table with her grandmother, who was currently educating him on the finer points of gin rummy. His face looked alert and bright, and Sheryl couldn’t help how handsome she found him.
He’s your bodyguard, she reminded herself, even if she had started to think about him more than normal. In fact, that afternoon, she’d had to shampoo her hair twice because she couldn’t remember if she’d done it yet. Gage had consumed her brain power in the soft moments before she fell asleep too, and she woke with him as her first thought.
So maybe she had a crush on him. Didn’t mean he was right for her. He said things in a way that made her feel stupid, and no woman wanted a boyfriend they had to pay to keep around.
Giving herself a mental shake as well as a physical one, she stepped over to Gage. “We should go so we’re not late.”
“Late for what?” he asked, barely glancing up.
Frustration filled Sheryl. The man really didn’t get social cues at all. Sure, he might be able to see the exit points in a room, see the people trying to hide, conduct interviews with neighbors without her knowing. But he needed to learn how to read a room, because she was desperate to leave, and he had no clue.
“Dinner,” she clipped out between her teeth. Her mother stood too close, her ears too open to every sound.
Gage looked up again, confusion in those beautiful eyes. In a snap of time, realization hit him. “Oh, right.” He set down the cards he’d been holding and focused on her grandmother again. “We’ll have to take this up another time, lovely.” He beamed at her. “So great to meet you.”
Her grandmother actually blushed as she reached up to pat her perfectly curled hair. “Oh, my.”
Sheryl rolled her eyes, especially when she turned and found her mother grinning like the dang Cheshire cat.
“Come on,” she said to Gage before she practically stomped across the living room to the front door. His voice sounded behind her, but it was too deep and too soft for her to make out the words.
She burst onto the porch, needing some fresh, cool air. She got air, but it was hot and filled with the scent of sand and surf and salt and something a bit decayed. A few moments later, Gage joined her, his hand slipping easily along her waist as he guided her down the steps.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “Your grandmother is a real character. I was so engrossed in the game.”
“You need to get out more,” she said.
He chuckled, and she tried not to focus on the throaty quality of it. Or how heat was spreading out from the point of contact on her hip. Or how good he smelled, which didn’t seem fair at all in that moment.
“So we’re going to dinner?” he asked as he handed her a helmet. When she’d asked him where he’d gotten it, he’d said he’d bought it for her. Yesterday.
When he had time to do things like that, she wasn’t sure. He worked until one, and he’d been at the inn, freshly showered and ready to do whatever she wanted by two. He’d been staying until ten or eleven too, and there was no way the motorcycle shop was open that late.
She fit it over her head, wishing she hadn’t spent so much time on her hair that afternoon. Didn’t matter. No matter what she did with her locks, they always ended up limp and stick-straight in a couple of hours. The helmet might actually help with the volume.
“I can’t—” she started just as Gage’s fingers covered hers and started to help with the strap that went under her chin. He didn’t look at her, and he became a sexy, strong, soft man in that moment.
“What do you want for dinner?” he asked quietly as he finished with her helmet and turned to put on his.
“I don’t know,” she said, the words falling from her mouth without direct instruction from her brain. And she really didn’t. In that moment, she didn’t know much of anything.
“Let’s go to Pie Squared,” he said. “They’re fast, and you haven’t been there yet.” He swung his leg over his motorcycle and gripped the handlebars.
“Okay.” Sheryl hitched up her dress to climb on behind him, her heart pounding in her chest the same way it had when he’d told her they’d be taking the bike that night. She’d never been much of a motorcycle rider, though plenty of people used them around the island. They were one of the best ways to get around Carter’s Cove, especially when the crowds swelled in the summer months.
But he’d taught her how and where to sit, how to lean with him, and how to hold onto him. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his back.
“Ready?” he asked, turning his head though he couldn’t possibly see her.
He felt warm and solid and real in front of her, and Sheryl loved how grounded she felt on this motorcycle, with this man. She knew her mother and grandmother were probably watching, but she decided she didn’t care.
“Ready.”
He eased them away from the curb, keeping the engine rumbling nicely instead of filling the air with the sharp roar of it. He didn’t turn left the way she expected him to, but went right instead, winding down the neighborhood streets to the coastal highway.
A sense of wonder and freedom filled Sheryl, and she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. Riding in the open air like this made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time, and she loosened her grip on his body and straightened so she could feel the sea breeze against her face.
Laughter tumbled from her chest, and she put her hands on his waist to steady herself. His laughter joined hers, but she could barely hear it. Didn’t matter. She could feel it in his body, and when he accelerated, she whooped with joy.
By the time they arrived at the bonfire, Sheryl’s adrenaline rush had faded. They’d enjoyed dinner at Pie Squared, and he hadn’t been lying. The pizza was fantastic, and she’d eaten way too much.
Her pulse spiked again as Gage took her helmet and stowed it in his saddlebag before taking her hand in his.
“Is this okay?” he asked, and Sheryl had no idea what to say. She looked around as if she were important enough to have paparazzi behind her, snapping pictures of every person she even looked at.
No one cared that she was holding hands with the gorgeous, dangerous, mysterious Gage Sanders.
“It’s fine,” she said.
“Oh-ho,” he chuckled. “Must not be okay then.” He started to pull his fingers out of hers, but she held onto them tightly.
“It is.”
“I’ve had other girlfriends,” he said bluntly. “And when they said something was fine, it definitely wasn’t.”
“How many other girlfriends?” she asked, sliding her fingers between his and holding on.
He grinned at her. “Several. No one since I moved here permanently, though. Well, there was this one woman.” He shrugged. “But she didn’t live here.”
“Name?”
“Dana O’Shiel.”
“Yeah, I don’t know her.”
He tugged her closer to him as they approached a couple coming their way. “I said she didn’t live here.”
“Plus, it’s not like I know everyone on the island. Pretty much only if someone grew up here and stayed, the way I have.” She pointed down the boardwalk. “For example, the band playing tonight is all locals. Some a couple of years older than me or younger than me. I only knew the banjo player.”
“Mm,” he said, reaching for a tumbler of water as a waiter paused. “You want something to drink?”
“Just club soda,” she said, and the waiter pointed to the wet bar that had been set up on the sand. Sheryl glanced around and saw that almost everyone there had dressed up a little bit, and she was so glad she’d found this splashy sundress in the back of her closet.
It left her shoulders a little barer than she normally liked them, but as the sun drifted down, she wasn’t afraid of getting burnt.
Gage led them over to the bar, where he ordered club soda for both of them, his with lime and lemon and orange. His glass looked colorful and vibrant, and Sheryl thought it fit him really well.
She never would’ve imagined the Gage she’d met on her front porch at an event like this, but he fit in seamlessly with that button up shirt undone at the throat and his sandaled feet. They strolled along the boardwalk closer to the band, and she pointed with her glass. “That’s Mat Lindstrom right there, with the banjo.” She grinned at the man she’d been friends with for many years, searching the crowd for his wife.
Sheryl was friends with Lindsey too, and while they had just had their first baby, they still invited Sheryl to dinner sometimes. All of her married friends did, and she cut a look out of the corner of her eye at Gage. Maybe she could start bringing him to lunches and dinners and picnics on the beach. Maybe she could be part of a couple again.
Her heart seized, and Gage looked at her as if he could tell her vital organ had skipped a few beats. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t search the surroundings but kept his gaze right on hers.
“Nothing,” she said. “I was just thinking about my last boyfriend.”
“Oh, that’s not what I want to hear.” He gave her a smile. “I mean, we’re here together. This band is great. The moon is coming up. No man wants to hear the beautiful woman he’s with is thinking about another guy.” He lifted his fruity club soda to his lips, those dark eyes devouring her.
Beautiful woman he’s with.
“So before the disaster that has become Ricky—”
“Wait,” Gage said. “Your last boyfriend was the stalker?”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, I never went out with him. He just asked me a bunch of times.”
Gage nodded and said, “Continue,” as if this were an interrogation.
Annoyance squirreled through her. “I don’t want to tell it now.”
“Oh, come on,” he said, practically rolling his whole head. “What did I do?”
“You just were like, ‘continue,’ like all of your demands would be satisfied before I said another word.”
Gage’s eyes sparkled like dark diamonds, and dang if Sheryl didn’t want to lean closer and see what he found so funny. “Well,” he drawled in that Savannah-accent. “Won’t all my demands be satisfied tonight?” He leaned closer, sending Sheryl’s pulse into a complete tizzy.
“No.” She pushed against his chest, laughing in the next moment. “I don’t even know what your demands are, so they definitely won’t all be satisfied.”
“Mm,” he said again, touching his nose to her cheek for a moment before straightening and backing up. “You can keep telling the story whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you, your highness.”
He scoffed, but not an ounce of discomfort or unease sat on his face.
Sheryl wasn’t sure how to pick up the story again. “Anyway,” she said. “Before Ricky, I dated this guy named Chuck Millstone. I thought things were going well, but so did his other girlfriend.”
“Ouch,” Gage said without missing a beat. “And Chuck is a stupid name.”
Surprise shot through her, and she burst out laughing. “It is, isn’t it? I mean, no offense to the nice Chuck’s out there.”
The one she’d dated had not been nice. In fact, he’d accused her of trying to change him, and that was why he’d had to go find another girlfriend who “loved him just how he was.”
Gage grinned at her, and time seemed to freeze. The moonlight was romantic. The bluegrass band had started a slow song.
“Do you want to dance?” Gage asked, and there was nothing more exciting to Sheryl in that moment than the idea of dancing with the ex-Marine, bodyguard-slash-boyfriend, sexy man in front of her.
“Sure,” she said at the same time someone else said, “Sheryl?”
She startled, immediately stepping away from Gage who fell a half-step behind her. Her oldest sister stood there, a delicious-looking man on her arm too. “Olympia.” Her eyes flickered to the tall, sandy-haired man at her sister’s side.
“This is Chet,” she said, looking up at him.
“Gage,” she said, and Olympia shook the man’s hand.
“Nice to meet you,” Olympia said, her eyes grinning as if they knew what Sheryl had been thinking about dancing with Gage. “What are you guys doing here?”
“It’s the bonfire,” Sheryl said. “I wanted to get out of the house tonight.” Her sister wasn’t dim, and Sheryl stared at her, hoping to communicate that she should wrap up this conversation so Sheryl could get her dance before the song ended.
Olympia simply smiled at her sister. “It’s great, isn’t it?” She hadn’t been out with anyone in years, and if she was really dating Chet, Sheryl was happy for her. Olympia’s last boyfriend had cheated on her too, but not only that, he’d been married while they were dating.
Married.
She looked at Chet again, and it sure seemed like there were plenty of sparks there.
“I really like the band,” Sheryl said. “Did you know the banjo player is Mat Lindstrom, from high school?”
“Really?” Olympia asked. “I didn’t recognize him.”
Chet leaned closer to her, and she turned her head so he could whisper in her ear. He said something, she nodded, and he walked away. Olympia watched him, interest evident in her eyes, and Sheryl grinned at her sister.
“What’s with you two?” Sheryl asked, leaning closer. “You’ve never said you’re seeing someone new.”
“I’m still trying to figure out what we are.” Olympia glanced at Gage, leaning in and whispering too, though Gage seemed totally engrossed in the band and the crowd around them. A front, Sheryl knew. The man heard and saw everything. Literally everything. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”
Sheryl just blinked. “I have no idea what you mean.” And yet, she found herself inching back into Gage, who put his arm around her, his hand resting easily on her hip.
Olympia looked like a cat who’d just gotten his first canary. “Hmm.”
The song was almost over, and Sheryl was going to miss it. “See you later, O.” She turned into Gage and said, “Let’s dance.”
He obliged, and though they only got thirty seconds, they were thirty of the best seconds of Sheryl’s life, dancing in the arms of her…bodyguard.