Hideaway Heart (Cherry Tree Harbor Book 2)
Hideaway Heart: Chapter 8

TO GIVE KELLY MORE PRIVACY, I waited on the porch while she took her shower. While I was out there, I texted a friend of mine from high school that bartended at a place called the Backwoods Bar and Grill that wasn’t too far from here. Normally, I wouldn’t have been too concerned about a crowd, but it was a holiday weekend.

Hey Eric. You guys slammed already? Any way to reserve a table for two?

It took him a few minutes to answer.

Place is packed. But text me when you’re leaving. I’ll see what I can do.

Thanks man.

After that, I couldn’t resist typing “pink rabbit vibrator” into Google.

Let me tell you, the search results were an education.

I didn’t see the exact one Kelly owned, but many looked similar. And none of them looked like any human dick I’d ever seen. There were tickling rabbit ears, swirling beads, multiple speeds, curved shafts, dual motors. One of them had 36 vibrational patterns.

Thirty-six! My cock didn’t even have one vibrational pattern. Would my tongue make up for it? My fingers? The rest of my body? Maybe my voice?

Dismayed, I closed the page and put my phone away. What got her off was none of my business, and I needed to stop thinking about it.

A few minutes later, I heard the water shut off and the hair dryer kick on. After that came the sound of one door opening and another closing. Only then did I go inside and knock on the bedroom door.

“Kelly?”

“Yes?”

“Is it okay if I take a shower now?”

“That’s fine.”

I pulled some clean clothes and my toiletries from my bag and headed into the bathroom, where I undressed with a pounding heart.

Was the vibrator still on the tub ledge? Would I have to shower with it standing there, mocking me? If it was still there, had she left it on purpose?

Counting to three, I swept the curtain open, relieved to see it was gone.

I came out of the bathroom just as Kelly was leaving the bedroom.

“Think I’m dressed okay?” she asked.

I scanned her denim shorts, sneakers, and Belmont University hoodie. Her hair was in two long braids. “Definitely. The place I’m thinking about is just a side-of-the-road bar and grill. But the beer is cold and the burgers are hot.”

She smiled. “Perfect. Done in the bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

“I just need a minute.” She brushed past me, leaving the scent of her perfume in her wake—it was summery and sweet, and I wanted to bury my face in her neck and inhale deeply.

Disconcerted, I put my shoes on and went outside. While I waited for her, I shot a quick text to Eric and let him know we’d be there in about thirty minutes. He didn’t reply, so my hopes that a table would be waiting for us weren’t too high. I figured if the place was too jammed, I’d take her into Cherry Tree Harbor instead. It was a longer drive, but I felt more comfortable there than anywhere else.

The front door opened. “I’m ready,” she said. “Let’s go.”

As she breezed by me, I smelled her perfume again. I followed her to my car, fighting the urge to throw both arms around her, pull her back against me, and let the scent fill my head. Dammit, I hadn’t been this attracted to someone in years. Why the hell did she have to be Sully’s celebrity sister?

After turning from the cabin’s driveway onto the main road, I noticed a car parked on the shoulder about two hundred yards away. A beige Honda Civic. Dent in the left rear bumper. Michigan plates. It hadn’t been there earlier, and my intuition told me to memorize the number. As we passed it, I saw a guy behind the wheel on his phone.

She reached for the volume knob on my radio and turned it up. An old Springsteen song was on. “Is this okay?”

“Sure.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

“All kinds, really. Classic rock is probably my favorite.”

“Do you listen to country?”

I shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Ever listen to me?”

“No.” I felt sort of bad about it. “But my niece Adelaide is a big fan.”

“Oh yeah? How old is she?”

“Seven.”

“Does she live around here?”

“Yeah. My brother Austin’s family—that’s Adelaide’s dad—also lives in Cherry Tree Harbor.”

“I’d like to meet them.”

I was thinking about asking her if she’d like to go to the barbecue tomorrow, but then she started singing along with the radio, and I got distracted. Her voice was warm and pretty—it sort of wrapped around you like a blanket—and I heard none of the mournful tone from earlier. She seemed like she was in a much better mood, and it made me feel good.

When we pulled into the parking lot of the Backwoods Bar and Grill, I could tell by the number of cars parked beyond the asphalt on the grass that the place was probably at capacity or beyond. “Got a hat in your bag, by any chance?”

She glanced at her shoulder bag. “Shoot—no. I forgot it.”

“Let me see what I have.” I got out of the car and opened the hatch in the back, spotting a black Two Buckleys Home Improvement cap. Grabbing it, I shut the hatch and walked around to the passenger side, where she’d just hopped out. “Here,” I said. “Wear this.”

She read the front of it. “Two Buckleys? Which two?”

“My dad and my brother Austin.”

“Ah.” She stuck the cap on her head, pulling it low on her forehead. “How’s that?”

Fucking adorable, actually, but all I did was nod. “Keep your head down. When we get to whatever table they give us, take the seat facing the wall or window, not the door.”

She saluted. “I’m ready to go in, coach.”

As expected, the place was crammed with people. Keeping Kelly right in front of me, I maneuvered through the throng and had a quick word with Eric, who said he’d let the hostess know we were here, but it would be a few minutes. I bought a couple beers and tugged Kelly over to one corner of the bar. With my back to the wall, I instructed her to face me.

She stood close, her breasts nearly grazing my shirt. The scent of her perfume caused my body temperature to rise. Trying not to breathe in too deeply, I gripped my beer and concentrated on staying aware of our surroundings.

After a couple minutes, she started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, glancing down at her.

“Your face. You look like you’re ready to kill somebody.”

“I’m just trying to give off the vibe of an unfriendly, possessive boyfriend. I don’t want anyone approaching us.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “So we’re pretending to be on a date, is that it?”

“No.” I frowned. “That is not it.”

She giggled again. “Oh, come on. I don’t get to go on normal dates. It could be fun! We could make up little pet names for each other, like bear-bear and mudbug.”

“We will not be doing anything of the kind.”

“You’re the worst fake boyfriend ever.” She stuck her tongue out at me.

“Buckley? Party of two?” the hostess called from the entrance to the dining room.

She tucked her hand into my elbow. “Come on, bear-bear.”

I scanned the crowd as we crossed to a booth in the back left corner of the restaurant. Mostly families at this hour. A few groups of friends. As instructed, Kelly slid into the side facing the back wall, and I took the side facing the room. “Thanks,” I told the hostess.

“Sure,” she said, handing us two menus. “Your server will be right over.”

“So is this where you bring all your dates?” Kelly asked as I pulled out my phone and entered the info about the car I’d seen on the side of the road.

“I don’t date much.”

“Why not?”

I put my phone away. “I’ve been busy with the bar, and with my family—my dad had some health issues this summer.”

“I hope he’s okay,” she said seriously.

“He’s fine. I also spend a lot of time with my niece and nephew.”

“That’s right. You’re an uncle.” She tipped up her beer again. “Tell me about them.”

“My niece is Adelaide—the one I told you about—and she has a twin brother, Owen. They’re a lot of fun.”

The waitress came by—a twenty-something blonde with flushed cheeks and a tired smile from all the running around she was doing tonight. But she welcomed us warmly and took our orders, apologizing that our burgers might take longer than usual. Her eyes lingered so long on Kelly, I thought for sure she was going to ask if she was Pixie Hart.

When we were alone again, I said, “Listen, if you don’t want to be recognized tonight, keep your head down. And if someone does ask, my advice is to say you’re not her, but you hear that a lot.”

She studied me. “You’re very serious about this security thing, huh?”

“You should be glad about that.”

“Do you have a gun?”

“Not on me.”

“But what if something happens?” she persisted with a grin. “What if some kind of bar fight breaks out?”

“If something happens, my job is to get you out of here as quickly as possible. If I have to pull a gun or throw punches, I have not done my job.”

Her expression turned coy. “But would you take a bullet for me?”

“Yes. If that’s what I had to do to protect you.”

“Seriously?” She seemed genuinely shocked. “You don’t even like me. And you’re not even being paid for this gig.”

“How I feel about you is irrelevant. And this isn’t about money for me. I gave your brother my word I’d keep you safe, and I will.” I paused, my beer halfway to my mouth. “I never said I didn’t like you.”

Her cheeks grew slightly pink. “Tell me about your little sister.”

“She’s twenty-three and crazy smart. She’s in grad school at William and Mary.”

“And you said your brother Austin is the oldest?”

I nodded. “He’s thirty-two. One year older than me. Then comes Devlin, he’s twenty-eight and works in Boston, but he’s got a birthday coming up. He’ll actually be home for a visit next week. And Dash is twenty-six. He’s an actor.”

“Like in Hollywood?”

“Yeah. Ever seen that show Malibu Splash?”

Her eyes went wide. “I binged all three seasons while I was on tour! He’s on that show?”

“Yeah. He plays a lifeguard named Bulge.”

She flapped her hands. “Oh my god—Dashiel Buckley is your brother?”

“That’s him.”

“You guys don’t look alike at all! I never would have put it together.”

“He looks like our mom. I look like my dad.”

“Ever go out to Hollywood to visit him?”

“Once or twice when I was in the Navy. I was stationed in San Diego for a while.”

“Okay, so those are all your siblings. What about Austin’s wife?”

“He’s not married. The mother of his kids lives in California, and they visit her once a year. He’s raising them on his own, although he does have a new girlfriend. They just met earlier this summer, but honestly, I think she’s the one.”

Kelly perked up. “Really? Why?”

I told her the story of how Veronica had shown up on my brother’s doorstep in a wedding gown, stranded and broke, fresh from walking out on her wedding to a cheating bastard, desperate to convince him she’d make the perfect nanny.

Kelly listened with rapt attention. “This sounds like a song! And he fell in love with her right then?”

“Hell no. He thought she was nuts. I had to talk him into giving her a chance.” I tipped up my beer. “As usual, he was wrong and I was right.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course you were.”

Our food arrived, and Kelly picked up her burger and took a giant bite. “God, this is good. It’s exactly what I wanted. This whole night is exactly what I wanted.”

My chest swelled as I reached for the ketchup bottle and offered it to her. “Want some?”

She shook her head. “I can’t eat ketchup anymore. When I first moved to Nashville, there were nights all I ate were ketchup packets for dinner.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I used to steal them from the bar I worked at. I’d go home and make soup with them—a little sugar, some water, stick it in the microwave, then drizzle it with a stolen coffee creamer and, if I was lucky, I might even have a pilfered package of oyster crackers to go with it.”

“Times must have been tough when you were starting out.”

“They were.”

“Did you ever think about giving up?”

“Sure.” She ate a French fry. “A few times I even packed my bags. Called my mom and begged her to send me money for a bus ticket home. But she always talked me into staying. She believed in me. That helped.” She popped another fry in her mouth. “Then I got a manager who believed in me.”

“Still, you had the talent. I mean, you have the talent.”

She shrugged. “Tons of people have talent. I’m not an idiot. I don’t think I’m the best singer that ever walked the earth. I just . . . I understand people. I can read a room—even a huge room—and I know how to make a person feel like I’m singing just for them.”

I studied her across the table, thinking that it also didn’t hurt she was so fucking pretty. I remembered the way she’d sung in the car, soft and low, and wondered about other sounds she’d make in other settings, such as a bedroom where she was naked and sprawled beneath me, my body moving over hers.

Quickly, I picked up my beer, looking away as I drank.

What was the matter with me? It was this damn dry spell. I normally didn’t go so long without sex, but there hadn’t been anyone in my bed since I’d moved home. Between living with my dad, wanting to avoid small town gossip, and working so much, I hadn’t really had the opportunity. Maybe once these two weeks were up, I’d remedy that.

But messing around with Kelly was out of the question. It would break all kinds of personal rules and violate the trust her brother had placed in me.

I needed to keep my thoughts clean and my hands to myself.

We finished our meals and a second round of beers, and when the check came, I reached for it.

“You don’t have to buy my dinner, Xander,” Kelly said, trying to tug it out of my hands. “This isn’t a real date, remember?”

“I remember,” I said, winning the battle and holding it out of her reach. “But even on a fake date, I pay for dinner. Consider it a perk.”

Her head tilted. “Any other perks I should know about? Massages? Manicures? Maybe a bedtime story?”

“No,” I said emphatically, sliding my credit card into the holder.

“Well, at least let me buy you a drink at the bar before we go.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. It’s too crowded in there. And the later it gets, the more it will fill up with drunk assholes.”

“Come on. Please?” She clasped her hands under her chin. “I never get to do this—just hang out on a Friday night. No one knows me here, I’ll face the wall, I’ll keep my little disguise on—” She lowered the bill of the cap and peeked right and left. “I won’t even get up and dance on the bar.”

Exhaling, I sat back and folded my arms. It was a bad sign that I couldn’t say no to her. “If I say so, we leave immediately.”

She made an X on her chest. “I will do as you command, cross my heart.”

Great, now I had ideas.

When the bill was paid, we went back into the bar, which was hot, loud, and packed. I kept Kelly in front of me, steering her through the mob of people standing shoulder to shoulder, trying to get close enough to the bar to order. Every time some guy looked at her, I did my best to scare him off with a menacing glare. Possibly a growl.

I managed to get close enough to the bar to catch Eric’s eye and signal for two beers, and he nodded, handing them over a moment later. Giving them to Kelly, I dug some cash from my wallet and shouted for Eric to keep the change. Then I took Kelly by the shoulders again and shepherded her back to our corner.

“You were supposed to let me pay.” She pouted and hugged the beers to her chest. “I should refuse to give you one of these.”

“Sorry.” My eyes scanned the rowdy drinkers pressing close behind her. “I just wanted to get away from the bar quickly. Too many people.”

“Fine. Have one.” She relinquished one of the bottles to me and clinked hers to it. “Here’s to our fake date—although it’s the realest one I’ve been on in a long time.”

“Me too.” We each took a long pull.

“God, what does that say about us?” she asked.

“Huh?” My eyes were over her shoulder. There was a group of guys now standing right behind her, and I didn’t like the way they were staring at her. Elbowing each other. Puffing up their chests. It was almost like they were daring one another to approach her. One of them rolled his shoulders and faced her. His arm came up, like he was about to tap her on the shoulder.

She looked up at me. “I mean why do you think we both—”

But before she could finish what she was saying, I grabbed her by the back of the neck and crushed my mouth to hers. A soft, surprised noise came from the back of her throat. I spun her so her back was to the wall, making it impossible for the guy to touch her or even see her. If he wanted to know if she was Pixie Hart, he was going to have to tap my shoulder.

He didn’t.

I kept kissing her.

Five seconds went by. Then ten.

I lifted my head, our lips parting. The guy had obviously changed his mind. The threat was gone. There was no reason to kiss her again.

I did it anyway.

In fact, I changed the angle of my head to go deeper, opened my mouth a little wider, eased my tongue between her lips. I tightened my grip on the back of her neck, holding her to me. I kissed her until I had to take a breath, and when I tore my lips from hers, I swear her knees buckled a little.

“Xander,” she whispered. “What the hell?”

Those green eyes were looking up at me with wonder and confusion, but no anger—I had the feeling I could take her hand, take her home, take it all. And goddamn, I wanted to.

But I couldn’t.

“Sorry.” I dropped my hand from her neck and glanced over my shoulder. “There was a guy about to tap your shoulder. I didn’t want him talking to you.”

“Oh.” She struggled to put it together. “So—so that was—that kiss was fake? It was like . . . a shield?”

Our mouths were still impossibly close. My eyes dropped to her lips. “Yes.”

It wasn’t a total lie—the first kiss had been a shield.

The second? That was a little more difficult to explain.

I decided not to try. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”