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“No matter how we go about this, if we pursue each other, we risk losing Viv.” She searched his face, the same longing she used to feel years ago returning. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t plan on this. I didn’t expect to see you again and fall for you all over ag—”
Kit pressed her lips together, her face heating.
Beau leaned closer, his mouth parting. “Again?” At her nod, he covered her hands with his, his thumb smoothing over the pulse in her wrist. “I noticed you, too.” He smiled slightly. “As far back as I can remember. We were on different paths then. I guess it just wasn’t the right time for us to meet, to understand each other. But now . . .”
She closed her eyes and turned her hands over, threaded her fingers through his. “I don’t know that now is any better.”
His palm cupped her cheek, and his forehead pressed against hers. “I hope it is. Because I know what I want. I loved Evelyn—was lucky to have the time I had with her for as long as I did—but I’m not the same boy I was when I met her. I’m not even the same man I was when I was still married three years ago. I’m different, and I want different things out of life. I value every minute I have now, every breath. And I want to hang on to everything—and everyone—I treasure.” He brushed his mouth across hers, so lightly that she thought for a brief moment that she’d imagined it. “I’m falling for you, too. More and more every day. And no matter what happens—or what Viv thinks—I don’t want to give up on this thing between us. I don’t want to let you go.”
She smoothed her hands over his wide chest, slid her palms up his neck, and cradled his face, the stubble lining his jaw rough against her fingertips. “I don’t want to let you go, either.”
His head dipped lower, his lips brushing hers again, and she met him halfway, pressing her mouth to his. His big palm slid around her waist and caressed her back, cupped her shoulder blades, and kneaded her nape. The light, rhythmic pressure of his callused fingers against her bare skin stirred delicious shivers of pleasure that coursed through her veins and coaxed her closer.
His arms tightened around her, drawing her in, his spicy masculine scent and tender touch enveloping her completely for a moment. Then, with a soft groan, his arms loosened, and he pulled away.
Kit opened her eyes and looked up at him, her breath catching at the heady longing in his blue eyes and the soft flush of heat along his chiseled cheekbones and sensual mouth.
“I don’t know what the answer is here,” he said softly, trailing his hands over hers again. “But I know I’m not ready to give up on what we could have.”
* * *
The fire burned high, the moon hung low, and even the deepest waters of Hope Creek glowed bright beneath the starry night sky, rippling in a tidal dance to the rhythmic chorus of tree frogs and crickets populating the Teagues’ backyard. Savory aromas of shrimp, sausage, and corn billowed up from the large pot hanging over the center of the fire Royal and Viv had built, and mingled with the crackle of hot embers and light smoke drifting heavenward. It was a perfect night—just as Royal had said—for fresh Frogmore stew slowly boiled to perfection over an outdoor fire.
Beau smiled. But, he conceded, the most eye-catching jewel of the night was the sight of Kit standing by the fire, laughing, soft moonlight cascading like silvery tendrils over her dark hair. She glanced up, met his eyes, and smiled. Flames flickered higher, warming her cheeks to a pretty pink and highlighting the smooth curves of her lips.
He gripped the cold bottle of beer in his hand tighter, the label, having grown soggy in the humid air, clinging to his palm. He recalled the warm, soft feel of Kit’s neck, shoulders, and back beneath his palms just two hours earlier. It’d taken every ounce of self-control he had to pull away. To lift his mouth from hers, remove his hands from her, and give her the space he knew she needed to decide how—or if—she wanted to pursue the attraction between them.
No. More than that. He lifted the beer bottle and rolled it over the base of his neck, cooling his overheated skin. But the icy feel of the glass did nothing to still the longing that tugged deep within his chest. That familiar but somehow unique throb of desire, need, and tenderness. A feeling he’d never felt as strongly or as deeply before . . . not even with Evelyn. Only with Kit. An emotion he couldn’t shake or deny. Quite frankly, he didn’t want to.
Viv’s in love with you, isn’t she?
Beau stiffened at the memory of Kit’s words. It must’ve shown in his expression, because Kit’s smile dimmed, and her eyes strayed from his. He followed her line of sight to the opposite side of the fire, where Viv stood, stirring the contents of the large pot hanging over the flames.
Viv hadn’t said much since his and Kit’s return from their shrimp delivery run. She’d studied them closely when they’d returned, her eyes examining each of their faces as they’d walked up the dirt driveway to the backyard. Her mouth had tightened, and she’d returned to her task of cutting potatoes in halves on a long wooden table by the fire.
He had no doubt that Viv knew he was attracted to Kit—she’d implied as much before on a couple of occasions. She’d certainly made it clear the night she’d confessed her feelings for him.
He’d been honest with Viv that night. He hadn’t left any doubt as to the parameters of their friendship. But a different sort of complication existed that hadn’t occurred to him before.
As much as he wanted to build a relationship with Kit, she wanted to build one with Viv. She wanted . . . No, judging from the pleading tone in her voice and the desperate look in her eyes, Kitneededto reestablish a connection with Viv, to find a way to reconcile their past and future and put their pain behind them for good. And a potential relationship with him, maybe even his presence alone, might prevent their reconciliation.
Even though he knew that, the thought of walking away from Kit, from what they could have, was too painful to consider. But if pursuing a relationship with Kit harmed her chance at reconciliation with Viv . . . well, he didn’t know if he could live with th—
“You’re eyeing my girls again.”
Beau started at Royal’s low words, beer sloshing out of the bottle in his hand and splashing across his wrist.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice.” Royal, having left Viv’s side and rounded the fire, butted Beau’s elbow with his and angled up to Beau’s side. “And don’t think just ’cause I have a newfound appreciation of the decent human being you are that I’m going to give you any kind of free pass to either of my daughters.”
Beau closed his eyes and rubbed his eyelids briefly before facing Royal. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Royal. Though”—he dipped his head—“I appreciate your recognizing and admitting that I am, as you put it, a decent human being.” His mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment, even though I’m fairly certain you didn’t mean it to be one.”
“Heck, no, I ain’t mean it to be,” Royal scoffed. “But I ain’t no liar, either, and I give credit where credit’s due.” He sniffed. “I just wish you’d make up your mind or leave my girls alone.”
Beau shook his head, watching as Kit moved to Viv’s side and motioned Nate over. “It’s not like that. Not the way you think.”
Royal narrowed his eyes, staring at him. “Then what way is it?”
Beau lifted the bottle of beer to his lips, tilted his head back, and took a deep swig. “I don’t particularly want to have this conversation with you, Royal. I’m too old, for one, and too private for anoth—”
