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Mute, I shake my head.
“Well, then.” Dalton raps the door frame, and he seems lighter than he has all evening. “We can hang out tomorrow. Right?”
“Right.”
Honestly, I’m not one hundred percent sure what I’m agreeing to—whether it’ll mean breakfast in the 50s diner and another walk on the beach, or exchanging vows in a chapel then moving my stuff into his new house. At this point, I might secretly be up for both.
“Then I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.” Dalton hesitates for one breath, then crosses the suite with quick strides. He cups the sides of my face, pauses long enough for me to nod… then his kiss is over before I really feel it. A feather-light brush of lips, but one that sends a bolt of lightning through my core.
When he lets me go, I stagger back a step, dazed.
We’ve never donethat.In my dreams, maybe, but not in person. Not for real. And that wasn’t a friend kiss, right? Friends don’t kiss each other’s mouths.
Is my breath okay? Do I still have pit stains?
Will Dalton ever do that again? Maybe harder next time?
My knees are sweating.
“Sleep tight, sugar.”
It’s his old nickname for me—one so old and well-worn, I don’t even remember where it came from. All I know is it sends my heart haywire, thumping and lurching. I’m barely contained by my body, shocked I don’t burst out of my skin. The last few hours have turned my world upside down and shaken it like a snow globe.
“Night, Dalton,” I manage.
He winks before he shuts the door. Out in the corridor, his footsteps creak and groan all the way back down the stairs.
He’s really leaving… but he’ll come back. The famous rock star and love of my life is coming back tomorrow. Holy shit.
When I sprawl face-first on the bedspread, the breath knocks out of me in a grunt. If only teenage Alba could see us now.
Four
Dalton
This is a delicate operation. I realize that now, far too late to stop myself from sending that clumsy wedding invitation. Oh well.
At least it got Alba here, right? Got us back in the same geographic location. Now all I have to do is convince this whip-smart, funny, gorgeous woman that being with me would be worth all the media madness. That I could be good for her, finally. I could make her proud.
My girl is already outside when I reach the hotel, sitting on the stone steps and watching me approach with a rueful expression. The morning breeze lifts her hair and tugs on her red sundress. That color on her always drove me wild.
I remember one time in the spring before I left, on a Sunday afternoon when we were supposed to be studying for exams, the two of us snuck out to swim in the local river instead. Alba wore a red bikini exactly that shade. Between the sight of her bare skin and the icy cold water, my dick didn’t know whether he was coming or going.
I check my watch. “Six fifteen,” I call as I stride across the cobblestones, my voice echoing around the empty square. The dawn light is tinged blue. Only the baker is up, his windows glowing as the scent of baking bread rolls out through his open shop door. The rest of Sweet Cherry Cove is still snoozin’.
Alba looks tired as she smiles. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Me neither. Spent last night wearing a hole in my living room floorboards, pacing back and forth, trying to figure the exact right date that would make Alba fall in love with me. Something to make her see me as a realman, not just a rock star or her teenage best friend.
Couldn’t settle down and sleep. Didn’t catch a wink.
That house may be mine, but it’s not a home yet. Not until Alba’s there too.
“Too early for coffee,” I say, tugging her to her feet. Her hand is soft in mine, and she doesn’t pull away as we set off walking.Yes.Sweet victory. “Nothing’s open. But we could visit the waterfall, then find caffeine after?”
“Sure.” Alba slides me a look. “A waterfall, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m pulling out all the stops, sugar.”
