Page 37 of Hate To Love You


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“Really, just forget I said anything.”

“Now that it’s out there, I can’t. So we need to work through this, especially since you’re not the only one who’s been thinking about it.”

“Oh.” She looks taken aback. “Well…the inn’s guests will start wandering in here shortly for the evening wine and appetizers Keeley usually sets out. Britta’s mom is taking care of it today, but if we want to talk privately, we should head to the ohana.”

“Let’s go.”

As I press my hand to the small of her back—mostly because I can’t keep my hands off her—Beth and I make our way out the back door, following the stone path to the cottage on stilts that’s adjacent to the main house. Under the structure is a fenced-in lanai with a quaint table and chairs. Bethany makes her way up the stairs and opens the bright turquoise door.

Once we’re inside, my gaze sweeps over the cozy space. A plush sofa invites a duo to snuggle. Windows all around provide both mountain and ocean views to enjoy. Exposed ceiling beams and tropical colors relax and soothe. A little kitchenette supplies sustenance when needed. But it’s the big bed dominating the place that tells me this room was made for romance.

It’s impossible not to picture Bethany lying across the white sheets, half-dressed, breathing hard, and waiting for me to peel off all the rest. I do my best to push the vision aside and focus, but it’s not happening. All I want is her.

“This is really nice,” I manage to say.

“They’ve done a great job with the place. Have a seat. Want a beer? Keeley keeps a few up here.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

As she opens me a cold one and pours herself a glass of white, I scan her room again. It’s meticulous. Other than the suitcase on the luggage rack and another standing in the open closet, I would swear the room is vacant. I’m not surprised Bethany keeps the place neat and orderly. It fits her. My personal space is always a little more…relaxed.

Finally, she hands me the chilled bottle, then sinks beside me nervously, clutching her glass. “I’m sorry I pushed you to kiss me. I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m glad you did. It was bound to come up sooner or later anyway.” I sip my brew and set it on the tray across the nearby ottoman. “Because like I said, I’ve been thinking about kissing you, too, Beth. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I know your life is complicated now. So is mine.”

“That’s another reason I should never have said anything. I don’t want to drag you into my problems.”

“You’re not dragging me. I’m willing to help you work through whatever’s bothering you. We’re friends, right? That’s what friends do.”

When we first met, lines like that were a necessary evil, and I had no problem saying whatever would get me into Bethany’s good graces. Now? Unless she asked me to help her carry out the Reed Financial scheme, I think I’d do just about anything to ease her load.

Because I don’t simply want her; I like her, too.

Fuck.

That inconvenient truth aside, I can’t let my questions about her role in Dad’s death go unanswered.

What the hell am I going to do? If I refuse Bethany tonight, I doubt she’ll give me a second chance to touch her. If I give in, there’s no way I’ll be able to stop at just a kiss. Either way, she’s going to tie me up in knots.

Fucking no-win situation.

“Thanks for the offer. But some things I need to work out myself. They’re big and complicated.”

I frown. “And I’m too young to understand?”

“No. I’m too scared to share, all right?”

Because of what she’ll admit? Or what I’ll think of her?

“Okay.” I squeeze her hand. I can’t push her any more now. “But I’m here for you.”

“Thanks.”

Suddenly, we’re sitting in shadow illuminated by only the faintest hint of dusk eking through the windows. Her green eyes look so wide and uncertain. Her pale skin gleams. Her rosy lips and the way she nibbles that bottom one eat at my restraint.

“If we’re really going to talk about this, I should turn on some lights and grab us a snack from the main house.”

I suspect she’s stalling, but that’s okay. It gives me more time to think. “That would be great.”

With a quiet nod, she rises and flips on a cozy table lamp before letting herself out of the cottage. She descends the stairs and disappears inside the inn.

The moment she’s gone, I realize that I’m alone in her personal space and this may be my only opportunity to search it for clues. I have five minutes—tops—to figure out whether I need to put on the brakes with Bethany…or whether I can give in to the endless fucking need burning me to take her to bed.

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