“I know she’s sometimes much, but honestly, she can be so sweet when she wants to be.”
“Mmmm-hmmm.” I don’t buy that for a minute.
“Sooo… what are you and your mans getting up to besides the obvious?”
“Probably just chilling. This campaign trail ain’t for the faint of heart. I feel like I could sleep for a solid week, I’m so tired.”
“You been at it, girl. And this whole thing with Hollis… that shit is just fucked up. It must be giving you so much stress.”
I breathe through the agitation at just hearing his name, and consciously loosen my tightened grip on the steering wheel. “I can’t afford to let it get to me. Anika says the posts have become more frequent and more incendiary since the debate. We figured they would be. His endgame is to discredit me. I think that confrontation at the festival riled him up more than I expected. His fragile ego couldn’t handle being dismissed, so here we are.”
“Dakarai and your dad still deep in their ‘down with Hollis’ bonding circle and plotting to break his kneecaps?”
I give a short laugh, though I’m concerned with DK’s obsession. “Anika looked into this high-level tech guy DK’s used before. Ridiculously expensive. I don’t want to be spending campaign dollars on a digital ghost hunt. Besides, what’s getting definitive proof going to do? I already know it’s him, like one-hundred percent. His petty online actions aren’t illegal. The worst I could do with proof is expose him and maybe file a civil suit for defamation, but then his toxic fuckery overshadows my campaign. So, no. Let him spew and rant on his stupid little forum. I’m not giving him my breath or time. Period.”
“Yes, girl,” Lot cheers, her voice fired with solidarity. “What’s that saying? Success is the best revenge. You just keep on thriving right in his punk-ass face.”
“That’s my plan.” I shift subjects, and stuff Hollis back into that sealed garbage bin where he belongs, refusing to let him encroach on this precious time with DK. “Lexie and C’s wedding is next month. You’re definitely coming, right?”
“For sure. I wouldn’t miss our boy tying the knot. I love Lexie for him.”
“Same.”
We spend the rest of the drive talking about dress options and gift ideas, ending the call just as I hit the final, isolated stretch of road leading to the lake house. When the water comes into view through the trees, my heart starts spinning and twirling—doing a whole damn dance routine. I pull into the secluded driveway and park at the top of the incline beside his Audi.
Before I can even turn off the ignition, the front door swings open, and DK comes jogging down the steps in board shorts and a gray tank top. I step out of the car, and I’m instantly gathered into his arms.
The impact is breathless.
He sweeps me clear off my feet, crushing me against his chest in a hug so tight I can barely draw air into my lungs. But I don’t care. I bury my face in the crook of his neck. He smells of clean skin and cedar warmth. Happiness like no other consumes me all at once, a deluge of that feels like a euphoric high.
When he finally sets me down, he keeps one arm banded around my waist while the other cups the back of my neck. We just stare at each other, openly. The way we can’t in public. Our eyes connect, throwing a thousand sparks between us. My fingers trace over his cheeks, the coarse texture of his bearded jaw, the full curve of his lips. I’ve been touch-starved for two whole weeks, and the sheer feel of him beneath my hands is almost overwhelming in depth and intensity.
“I can’t believe I’m here with you,” I whisper.
“It felt like forever,” he rasps. Then his lips come down on mine in a kiss born of longing and relief.
The ache of our separation dissolves like clouds burned away by sunshine. Without warning, tears flood my eyes. I don’t cry often—hardly ever. Something has to cut through the layers to break the dam like this. I wind my arms around his back, the tears slipping down my cheeks even as our parted lips move together, drinking each other in.
He must feel the dampness because he eases back. “Hey,” he murmurs, protective concern rolling through his deep voice.
“I’ve been weepy for days.” I sniffle and wipe at my eyes. “I’m exhausted. I’m getting my period. And I’m… I’m so fucking happy to see you.” The confession only makes me cry harder.
DK doesn’t say a word. He simply pulls me back against his chest and wraps me in his big arms. One hand strokes down my back, soothing me until there isn’t another tear left to cry.
It’s a minute before I lift my gaze to his with a watery grin and eyes that probably look as puffy as they feel. “That wasn’t the seductive greeting I intended.”
His returning smile is tender with understanding. “You needed that, Luna.” He kisses my damp cheeks, then my lips. “You’ve been carrying a ton of pressure. I just want you to rest while you’re here. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Okay.” I nod, eager to let him.
DK grabs my overnight bag from the passenger seat and intertwines our fingers as he leads us up the wooden steps and into the foyer of our secret hideaway.
“I brought lunch,” he says, setting my bag by the stairs. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” I admit, suddenly aware of how empty my stomach is. I’d only had coffee this morning during an early session with some of the independent marina owners, listening to their concerns and ideas before I got on the road.
After washing up in the powder room and feeling a little more composed, I join him on the deck off the kitchen. The sky is so bright it turns the water into glass. DK pulls out a chair for me at the bistro table and uncorks a bottle of white wine. Then he disappears back into the kitchen, returning moments later with a large bowl of Thai sesame noodle salad and a familiar side of crispy golden lollipop shrimp with sweet chili sauce—a replica of the appetizer from our first date.
