It's in His Kiss (22 page)

“Okay,” Becca said, setting down her beer. “I’m going to need to hear this story. The real story.”

Cole grinned. “I’ll tell it.”

Tanner groaned but Cole ignored him. “We’d just left the rig job,” he told her. “We’d bought our first boat, a real piece of shit to be honest, but she was all ours. Well, ours and the bank’s. We were on the water, and our GPS went down. Tanner here insisted he could navigate without it. We were in the southwest Gulf, and he turned us a little too far south, where we came across some Mexican pirates—”

Becca gasped. “Oh, my God, pirates? Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” Cole said. “They boarded us, too. Said they were the. . .” He used air quotes here. “Authorities. And genius here”—he jabbed a thumb at Sam—“decided that they were full of shit and told them so.”

“Okay, yes, I did that,” Sam said. “But in my defense, they were wearing a combo of outdated U.S. and British military gear. They looked suspicious.”

“They hauled his big mouth off to the clink,” Tanner said.

“Which left me,” Cole said, gesturing to himself, “the brains of the operation, to figure out how to spring him.”

“Hey,” Tanner said. “I did my part. You told me to sleep with the town mayor’s daughter.” He smiled at Becca. “She was in the bar we stumbled into to come up with a plan.” He grimaced. “Except—”

“Except it turns out that she was the
wife
, not the daughter,” Cole said. “Which left me bailing out the
two
of them.”

“Did you have enough to bail them both out?” she asked.

“He sure as hell didn’t,” Sam said. “Because he’d used his month’s pay on being stupid.”

Becca looked at Cole, who shook his head. “That’s another story altogether.”

“So how did you bail them out?” Becca asked.

“He sold our fuckin’ boat,” Tanner said on a huge, sad sigh. “The
Sweet Sally
, gone forever.”

“It was that,” Sam said, “or leave you to become Big Bubba’s jail-mate bitch. And afterward, we bought a better boat.”

“He didn’t care then,” Cole said, and turned to Tanner. “You were still recovering and supposed to be taking it easy, but instead you were on this walk on the stupid and wild side, remember? Gil had just—”

“Hey,” Tanner said, no longer smiling. “Don’t go there.”

“—died,” Cole said.

“I mean it,” Tanner said. “Shut up.”

“What, we just toasted to his memory,” Cole said, “but we can’t toast to your trip to Crazy-Town?”

Tanner shoved free of the table. “I’m out.”

“Aw, come on,” Cole said. “Don’t get like that—”

But Tanner was gone, striding out the door and into the night.

Sam set down his beer. “Really?” he asked Cole.

Cole sighed and got to his feet. “I suppose I should go after Mr. Sensitive.”

“Maybe you want to give him a few minutes first,” Sam suggested. “So he doesn’t rearrange your face again.”

“Yeah.” Cole straightened his shoulders like he was bracing for battle. “Hey, if I don’t show up for work tomorrow, call out a search party, okay? I’ll be the one in concrete shoes at the bottom of the harbor, waiting on a rescue.” He paused, and when Sam only shrugged, he sighed. “Nice knowing ya,” he said to Becca, and headed out after Tanner.

“Is he really in danger?” Becca asked, worried.

“From his own big, fat mouth, maybe.” Sam stood up and pulled her with him. “Want to play?” he asked, gesturing to the piano.

Her heart gave a little kick, and she looked around. The bar was still full. “No, but thank you for asking.”

The night was dark and quiet. Becca looked up at her big, silent, gorgeous escort. “At least this time I can thank you for walking me.”

He arched a brow.

“You usually vanish into the night,” she said. “Like Batman.”

He looked at her but didn’t say anything, neither confirming nor denying.

At Becca’s apartment building, Olivia came out of her door with a duffel bag. “Hey,” she said. “There was a spider in my bathroom. I need to sleep on your couch.” Without waiting for a response, she walked into Becca’s apartment and left Sam and Becca alone in the doorway.

Becca looked at Sam. “You got in touch with her somehow.”

He kissed her. “Night. Sleep tight.”

“See?” she said. “Sweet.” Then she caught his hand, went up on tiptoe, and gave him a good-night kiss.

After work the next day, Becca was walking across the alley toward her apartment when someone called her name. Turning, she came face-to-face with Mark.

“Hey there,” he said with a smile. “I was just heading in, looking for Sam.”

“The guys are gone,” she said. “Out on the water with clients.”

“Ah, gotcha.” His smile was still in place, but he looked worried. Really worried.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Well. . .I had a little car mishap.”

“An accident?” She put her hand on his arm, looking him over.

He took her hand in his and squeezed it. “I see why he’s into you, darlin’; you’re really something special. But no, I didn’t have an accident. I’m fine.”

“Oh. Good,” she said relieved. “And Sam and I aren’t—”

“Because he’s an idiot. I know,” Mark said. He rubbed his jaw ruefully. “He might’ve gotten that from me.”

“Actually,” she said, “
I
might be the idiot.”

Mark smiled. “See? Special. Because now you’re protecting the idiot.”

Becca laughed. “Tell me about your car mishap.”

He went back to looking rueful. “I got my ride repo’d.”

“Oh, Mark.”

“I know, I know. I need to grow up. But right now, I need to get to the doctor, I have an appointment.”

“You can borrow my car, if you’d like,” she said. “Fair warning, though, it’s a piece of shit.”

“Pieces of shit are my specialty,” Mark said. “You wouldn’t by any chance have another of those amazing sandwiches with chips on it lying around, would you?” He flashed her a smile that was so similar to Sam’s, she smiled back helplessly.

“No,” she said, “but I can make you one.”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “Definitely special.”

That night Becca sat in Olivia’s apartment sharing Chinese takeout and some wine.

And woes.

They started with work woes. Olivia’s were physical. She’d been in Lucky Harbor for a year now and was outgrowing her store. It was why she’d moved into the warehouse apartment. She’d been living above the store, but that space was now needed for stock storage.

Becca’s work woes were mental. She was trying to teach music to a group of kids who’d never played an instrument in their lives, and it didn’t take a shrink to know that she needed this more than they did.

And then there was the fact that she was falling for her stoic, sexy boss. But as Olivia pointed out while refilling their glasses for the second or third or maybe fourth time, “If you put those two things aside, things are good for you.”

This was actually true, of sorts. Work was going pretty well. She had the Summer Bash plans under control, and she’d finished updating the charter website. The guys had been doing double the work, taking calls for reservations and then having to enter everything into the system. But now the site was fully operational, and people could book themselves.

“I bet you’re worth your weight in gold,” Olivia said. “Come work for me; it’ll be better for you.”

“How’s that?” Becca asked. “You have three hot guys in board shorts, shirts optional, working at your shop to look at all day?”

Olivia snorted. “No, but if you work for me, then you can sleep with Sam.”

Which brought them to the next subject—man woes.

“I’m not sure we’re going there,” Becca said. “And anyway, I’m not in a hurry to have him as an ex.”

“Yeah,” Olivia said. “Exes suck.”

She looked at Olivia with interest. “Tell me an ex story.”

“I once had a boyfriend who was an FBI agent.”

“Wow.”

“Wait for it,” Olivia said, not nearly as impressed as Becca.

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah,” Olivia said. “He said being an agent was why he had to come and go without warning, and why he didn’t have to call.”

“Well, that sucks,” Becca said.

“Gets worse. One night I had a break-in, and he happened to be with me. He ran out the front door screaming into the night like a little girl, without so much as looking back for me.” Olivia shook her head. “FBI agent my ass.”

They both laughed. Some of the hilarity had to be attributed to the wine, but mostly it was Olivia’s delivery. She knew how to spin a tale, and she knew how to be kick-ass, and not just the pretend, fake-it-till-you-make-it kind.

Becca needed to learn that particular skill.

“So. . .,” Olivia said, making the word about fifty syllables.

“So what?”

“So now it’s your turn to regale
me
with an ex story,” Olivia said.

Becca became suddenly extremely engrossed with finishing her wine. “I don’t really have all that many,” she finally said.

“Come on. Be serious.”

“I am serious,” Becca said.

Olivia had been lying flat on the couch, her head hanging over the side, while Becca—sitting on the floor—braided the long mass. But at this statement, Olivia lifted her head, pulling her hair from Becca’s hands.

“Unlikely from a woman who looks like you,” Olivia said slowly, taking Becca in, “with that gorgeous hair and those big, warm eyes, not to mention your amazing skin, which probably came from a rosy-cheeked baby with unicorn wings who poops golden fairy dust.”

Becca laughed. “You should be the writer.”

Olivia’s smile reminded Becca that her new friend still
had lots of secrets. “So no ex at
all
?” Olivia said, heavy on the disbelief.

“Well, sure,” Becca said, busying herself with picking out a fortune cookie. “A few here and there.”

“Name ’em,” Olivia said.

“Taylor Bennett,” Becca said. “He dumped me because I couldn’t name the jazz songs he played.”

“Uh-huh,” Olivia said. “And how old were you?”

“Seventeen.”

“That’s the best you got?” Olivia asked.

She racked her brain. The problem was, during those years, she’d been traveling with Jase, and it hadn’t exactly been a normal coming-of-age situation. She’d dated, but hadn’t really sunk her teeth into any real relationships other than with Nathan. “There were others, just no one memorable.”

“Come on, there’s got to be a story to tell.”

“Maybe.” Becca nudged the fortune cookies around with her fingers. “But I don’t like to revisit the only other one I’ve got.”

Olivia was quiet a moment. “This have anything to do with our impromptu sleepover?”

Becca shrugged. She didn’t want to go there sober, much less half-baked.

“Men are bastards,” Olivia said with feeling.

Becca made a noncommittal response to this and opened her fortune cookie.

Your future is your own
, it said.

“Damn it,” Becca said. “This one’s defective.”

Olivia peered over the edge of the couch and read it. “Hey, it sounds good to me. I like making my own future.”

Becca shook her head. “I’d rather hear something like:
Your future is prosperity-filled
, or
You’ll spin money from your ass
, or. . .”

“Or,” Olivia said, “
There’s a hot guy waiting for you if you only open your eyes
?”

“Yeah. That’s a good one.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “It’s a
true
one.”

“That’s ridiculous. My eyes are open.”

Olivia laughed and came up on an elbow, eyes slowly going serious. “How do you not realize that you actually, really do have a hot guy waiting for you?”

“I don’t.”

“You
do
.”

“Don’t.”

Olivia sighed. “You’re an annoying drunk.”

This was undoubtedly true. “I chose the job, remember?” she asked.

“Sam doesn’t care about the job. That’s not what’s holding him back.”

“How do you know?” Becca asked. “You’ve holed up in here, laid so low no one even hardly knows you’re here.”

Olivia shrugged. “I’ve got windows, don’t I? And I’ve been around longer than you. I know that he looks amazeballs on a surfboard, that he looks amazeballs on a boat, that he looks amazeballs—”

“Okay, okay,” Becca said, and she did laugh then. “I get it. He looks amazing
all
the damn time.”

“Yes, but it’s more than that. It’s how he looks at you.”

Becca sighed. “Listen, I pretty much forced him into giving me the job.”

“Honey, no one forces Sam Brody to do anything.”

Also true. . .But he’d known she needed the money, and that had been that. He cared about her. He cared about
all the people in his life. Cole and Tanner, for example. He’d do anything for them, and had. The same went for his dad, and Cole’s mom. Sam was a man who was careful with his emotions, he’d been brought up to be, and yet he could still give and care with every ounce of his body.

Unlike her.

Oh, she cared, but not deep. Going deep hurt. She’d learned that once and had never looked back. She loved her parents because they were her parents, but she couldn’t count on them.

And then there was Jase. When that situation had gotten to be too much for her to handle, she hadn’t just backed off. She’d backed off and moved thousands of miles away, leaving him alone to deal with his issues.