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“Oh. Oh, right. Here, let me get off of you.”
I catch her hand and open her palm so I can drop a kiss to the center of it. “Or you could stay?”
Her eyes flutter for a moment and then she shakes away the feeling.
“Here? Like this? I think I’ve already lost circulation in my left leg—it’s really shoved up against the door. You can’t be comfortable either.”
She must not know the meaning of comfort. Her body is a comfort to me, one I’m sad to lose when she reaches for the door handle and pops it open. She nearly tumbles out of the car, laughing as she catches her weight and stands to wipe her hands down over her dress.
If she’s trying to make it look like we didn’t just fool around in my car, it’s futile. The beach had already turned her hair into a curly mess, and my hands only made it worse. Or better, depending on who you ask. I’m biased.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she groans, burying her face in her hands.
“Like what?”
“Like we just…did that. C’mon, hop to it. You need to drive me home.”
I slide out of the seat and adjust myself in my swim trunks. I wince and she looks away, her blush deepening.
Her reaction has me curious. “Maren, have you had sex before?”
Her eyes widen into saucers as she whips back around to face me. “Of course! Just not with anyone like you.”
“Am I so different?”
“You’re a man and it’s obvious in every way.”
I give her a cocky smile. “I’ll take the compliment.”
“You should,” she says, walking toward me so she can prop her hands on my shoulders and push me along to my side of the car. “That was some very nice kissing.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“So then why’d we stop?” I say, leaning my weight back against her so she can’t continue to push me around the hood of the car.
“Like I said…my leg was falling asleep…”
Her words sound weak.
“Do you regret what we just did?” I ask, turning halfway to face her.
She looks down at the ground. “No, I don’t, but I also didn’t want it to continue. Does that make sense?”
Not really. I want to press her on her meaning, but when she glances up at me again, there’s a vulnerability in her gaze that I don’t want to abuse.
“Can you just take me home? I’m getting cold in this bathing suit.”
I nod and turn away, dragging my hands through my hair while I give myself a little mental pep talk to rein it in. Visions of laying her down on the hood of my car and continuing where we left off aren’t exactly helping cool my blood.
I roll my neck and vow to keep my eyes off her on the way home. Unfortunately, I don’t succeed.
Any time she moves, breathes, talks, I look her way and take her in like I’m hoping the sight of her will sustain me for days to come.
She’s talking about the beach, telling me how pretty it was, how cool that it was tucked into a cove like that, hidden from the rest of the world. She wants to take Cornelia there, and I laugh. I can’t remember the last time my grandmother visited the ocean, but if anyone could get her there, it’s Maren.
We pull into my parking spot at Rosethorn and I kill the engine.
I don’t move at first—not quite ready to leave her—but Maren hops out of the car and goes around to try to pop the trunk. After a few failed attempts, I get out to help her.
She laughs when she sees how simple it is.
“Oh, right, you pull the lever. Why didn’t I think of that?” she says lightly as she reaches in for the picnic basket.
The back door opens and Louis bounds toward us, barking excitedly. Cornelia stands at the door, admonishing him.
“Louis, no jumping on Maren!”
“It’s okay. He must have missed me today,” Maren says, leaning down to pick him up. He licks at her face over and over again. “Enough, Louis. Jeez.” She laughs. “Can’t a girl catch her breath?”
“Did you two have a good time at the beach?” Cornelia asks. “Chef is just about done with dinner. Nicholas, I’m assuming you can’t stay?”
“I’ll go up to shower, but then I need to head back to the city and get some work in before tomorrow.”
“Of course. Come along, Maren.”
She sets Louis back on the ground and turns back toward me. “I probably won’t see you before you leave, so have a safe drive back to New York. I’m sure it’ll be less eventful than the one you just experienced.”
Cornelia hums. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Maren laughs as she starts toward her. “Nicholas was brave enough to let me drive his car.”
“You’re kidding,” she says, wrapping her arm around Maren’s shoulders as she reaches the door. They turn away from me as she continues, “He worships that thing.”
