Reckless Hearts (Oak Harbor #2)(4)

“Ta da!” I lean into the car, flip the middle cup-holder, and pull out a key. “And I have a spare under the mat at home, too.”

“You’re all set.” Will grins. “Well, I guess I better get going now.”

“Oh.” I feel a surge of disappointment. For all the bad luck I’ve had today, this part has actually been fun. I don’t want to see him go so soon, but he’s spent enough of his time helping me out. He probably has someplace to be—and a girl to show him a good time once he’s there. “Sure, thanks again. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime.” Will nods. “So . . .” He pauses like he’s going to say something else, but instead, he nods, and flashes me another heart-stopping smile. “Goodbye, Delilah.”

“Goodbye, Will,” I echo, watching him walk away. Right on cue, there’s another ominous rumble of thunder, and then the light smatter of raindrops turns into a full-on shower. Will picks up the pace, jogging for dry land.

I feel a pang.

I could get in my car right now, hit the road for home, but I can still feel the warm imprint of his body against mine; feeling suddenly, inexplicably right.

“Wait!” I call, taking off after him. I sprint down the block, my feet splashing in the gutters. “Will, wait!”

He stops on the corner and turns back, looking confused. “Wait,” I say again breathlessly, and then before I can think twice, I reach up on my tiptoes, grab him by the tie, and kiss him.

Just like that.

His mouth is soft, cool from the rain, but the feel of his lips against mine is hotter than an inferno. Every last nerve in my system ignites in a heartbeat, screaming to life with red-hot electricity that sizzles and surges, making me arch up closer, wanting more.

For a moment, we’re suspended there, frozen. And he kisses me back.

Will pulls me against him, easing my lips open and sliding his tongue deep in a heady dance that makes my head spin and my knees go weak. The fever of the moment crashes through me, and I hold on for dear life, suddenly lost in the sweet, delicious feel of his mouth, his tongue, his hands gripping my waist tightly, and mmmm, the solid planes of his body, muscular arms crushing me close. I could stay here forever, swept up in something so sweet and wild, but at last, we come up for air.

I step back, my heart pounding, blood singing in my veins. “Thanks again,” I murmur, as the real world slips back into focus. I smooth down his damp shirt and wink. “See you around.”

I turn and walk away before he can say a word, breaking into a run as the rain pours down and I dash to my car through the deluge. I hurl myself inside, slam the door behind me, and catch my breath, my head still spinning.

That was some kiss.

A grin spreads across my face as I buckle up, start the engine, and hit the road again, the wipers doing a furious dance on the windshield. But even through the torrents of rain, I still see Will’s face, back there on the street after I kissed him: his wet hair rumpled, his eyes bright with passion, and those lips . . .

I shiver happily. I haven’t had a kiss like that in, well, forever.

So why didn’t you get his number?

I shake off the scolding voice in my mind. The one thing I’ve learned about guys is the good times never last. Commitment, relationships—they all fall apart in the end, ruined by cheating or lies, or just the ordinary grind of everyday existence. I’ve seen it happen too often to keep believing in that happily-ever-after. No, I decided a long time ago that it’s better to just enjoy the moment for what it is: an amazing moment. A heart-stopping kiss. A wild, adventurous night together. Nothing more—and nothing less, either.

This way, there’s no disappointment. I won’t ever find out that Will leaves dirty laundry on the bathroom floor, or stops calling after a couple of weeks, or has fifteen different online dating profiles and a girl in every state. No mess, no fuss, no angry, painful breakup three months from now that leaves me cursing his name into a bottle of tequila.

He’ll always be the gorgeous guy who helped me out of a tough spot—and who kissed me on a rain-soaked street corner so hard, I forgot my own name.

I tuck the memory away, smiling, and head for home.





Two.


A week later, and just as I predicted, Will seems like a distant dream. The memory of our kiss feels more than just two hundred miles away, but a different lifetime: a scene from a movie you watch before the credits roll, and you emerge from the dark theatre blinking at the bright sunlight of real life again.

Today, real life is the Oak Harbor Realty office, my last appointment of the day, and one very nervous client finally ready to sign their lease on a dream condo. At least, that’s what was supposed to be the plan.

“Are you sure the traffic noise won’t be a problem?” the client, Miles, pauses with the pen just over the lease. In his late fifties, with two grown children moved away and a wife who decided to pack up and become a yoga teacher in Arizona, Miles is finally ready to move on with his life—and into a neat, small condo on the golf course. We must have looked at two dozen places before finding the perfect place for him, but even now, I can see his indecision holding him back. “And those association fees . . .”

“Are well within your budget,” I reassure him. “And we tested for noise in every room, remember? Even with all the windows open, you couldn’t hear a thing.”