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“I’d never hurt your sister, Jake,” I tell him, keeping my voice level. “I wouldn’t do that to her, and I wouldn’t do that to you. I mean it.”
“What are you saying, Gray? Is there something—”
I hate this. I can’t keep lying to my best friend. I’m seconds away from coming clean and confessing everything when Tucker walks down the dock, interrupting us. “The girls are hungry. They want burgers but I can’t find the patties. Do you remember where you put them?”
“I’m pretty fucking sure they’d be in the fridge,” I joke, a lame attempt at easing the tension in the air. “Did you look there?”
“Geez,” he says, putting his hands up. “Fiery. You must be hangry too.”
“Dick,” I snap back. “I’m not hangry. It’s just fucking logic that you keep raw meat in a refrigerator. I’ll come and take a look.”
I grab onto the excuse to make a quick exit, heading back towards the cabin before Jake has a chance to say anything else. Ten minutes later, I’m grilling burgers on the barbecue when Tucker sidles up next to me with two IPAs in his hands. He cracks one and hands it to me.
“Dude, you owe me big time. You were about 10 seconds away from getting your ass kicked when I showed up and saved you from Jake’s fists. You really need to do a better job of not eye fucking your girl in front of him. Jake is on to you two.”
Tucker is right. Sierra and I are walking a fine line, and I’m pretty sure we’re going to get caught soon.
We need to tell Jake the truth before he gets even more suspicious. I feel like shit lying to him, sneaking around with Sierra behind his back. I know he's not going to be happy, but prolonging this will only make it worse. But I don't want to do it here, in front of a crowd. Sierra and I just need to stay away from each other until we're back at Haven Harbor in our own secret bubble and away from Jake's constant watch.
EIGHTEEN
THAT’S NOT THE HOLE I WAS HOPING FOR.
Grayson
I wipe the sweat that’s trickling down my neck with the hem of my shirt, ignoring my tired muscles as I finish my Saturday morning run. I left Sierra in my bed with her laptop. She needed 20 more minutes to wrap up some work, then she promised me she’d be mine for the day. It’s been almost a week since we got back from Cape May, and Sierra and I are still living in our little bubble. I haven’t seen Jake since the weekend, and Sierra and I have found ways to avoid the topic, neither of us wanting to drop a bomb on this perfect routine we’ve fallen into together.
I’m walking up the driveway, out of breath, when I spot her. She’s standing in my doorway, fresh from a shower, hair damp and tied up, no makeup on. She’s a fucking vision. I slowly make my way to her. She’s wearing my T-shirt, which lands just above her knees, and her long, bronze legs and bare feet make my dick twitch. There is nothing sexier than Sierra wearing my T-shirt. Not lingerie. Not a black slinky dress. Not even close.
I’m a sweaty mess when I walk the three steps to her, noting the smirk on her face. She doesn’t flinch when I pull her by her hips into my sweat-soaked shirt.
“Miss me?” I ask, one of my warm hands reaching around to palm her perfect heart-shaped ass, smoothing my fingers over her flesh. I swallow. “No panties, sunshine?”
“I just got out of the shower.”
“A shame,” I whisper in her ear.
“Why is that?” Her eyes are on mine, and I see the challenge in them.
I squeeze the apple of her ass. “You’re about to need another.”
“Not before I feed you,” she says, slipping out of my embrace and grabbing my hand, pulling me into the house. I shut the door behind us and trail her into the kitchen, following her instruction to take a seat at the counter while she finishes up breakfast.
My kitchen has become her kitchen and I love seeing her baking and cooking here with her music on and a smile on her face. I’ve been assigned as her sous chef, preparing whatever she needs, only too happy to be bossed around by this blonde-haired beauty who has all but moved in with me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Did you work up an appetite?”
“I’m starved,” I admit, eyeing the eggs and loaf of bread she has on the counter.
“Well, you’re in luck. I am making you eggs-in-a-hole.”
I laugh into my coffee cup. “Excuse me. Eggs in a what?”
“Egg-in-a-hole,” she answers.
I can’t help but laugh at the joke that’s just begging to be made. I can’t help myself, it’s like low-hanging fruit.
“That’s not the hole I was hoping for this morning.” I say as Sierra slides a fresh cup of coffee over the counter to me. My hand reaches for her wrist before she has time to return to the stove, and I pull her across the counter for a chaste kiss.
