“Says the last remaining direct descendant of Thaddeus Ambrose Bushrod. The girl who literally waves from the lead convertible in the Founder’s Day parade every stinking year.”
She looked skyward. “Oh God, please let me have a midterm on October 22 this year so I can avoid the parade.”
“What? Big Bad Thad would roll over in his grave if you don’t represent the first family of Bitter Bark.” He inched a fraction closer, giving her the faintest whiff of his indescribably masculine scent, as intoxicating as the Blue Ridge Mountains air and the golden liquid in their paper cups. “Plus, I get a secret thrill when that car goes by.”
And she got a secret thrill when his voice got low and sexy like that.
“Did you know…” He brushed some hair back from her face now, hooking it over her ear, holding her gaze one heartbeat past what a friend would do. “I always get there early so I can get a Prime Evie Viewing Spot on the top stair of town hall.”
“Then you’re crazier than I thought.”
“Yup.” He shrugged. “Are you finished toasting? Or are you going to dredge up the time I backed into your dad’s brand-new Mercedes while trying to navigate the Gloriana House driveway in reverse?”
“Just smashed right into it. Oof. He was mad.” She chuckled at the memory, then inhaled that scent again, still lost. “So, where was I?”
“Setting the record for the longest birthday toast in history.”
She slipped her lower lip under her teeth and sat up a little straighter. “Okay, fine.”
“Bring it home now, E.”
On one more sigh, she lifted the cup again. “To the boy who shares my birthday, the kid who can spell but can’t drive in reverse, and the man…” I am dying to kiss. “Who can now legally purchase this stuff so we won’t have to steal your Gramma Finnie’s stash.” She tapped her Dixie cup to his. “Happy twenty-first, Dec.”
He pinned those chocolate eyes on her and never looked away while they knocked back their shots, which made her choke on the whiskey burn.
“There’s my little lightweight.”
She managed to get the liquor down her throat. “Shut up. You were raised on this juice.”
He poured two more shots, but hers barely covered the bottom of the cup. Of course he didn’t want her to get hammered up here on their annual birthday camp-out. Declan was always looking after her. “My turn, birthday girl?”
She shuddered as the whiskey hit her belly. “Your turn.” She lifted her cup. “Hit me with your best toast, baby.”
He cleared his throat and looked into her eyes again and, once more, she was gooey right down to her toes. How did this happen? When did every thought about Declan go from whether they’d play a game of pickup basketball to whether they’d…make out?
“Okay…” He made a face. “I’m trying to think of a worthy pun.”
“I know it’s a challenge for you.” She winked at him. “But you try, and I love that.”
“Here’s to Evie…as intoxicating as this whiskey.”
“Not bad.” She dipped closer. “A for effort and the nicely buried compliment.”
“Right?” He lifted the drink. “Okay, let’s go with, here’s to the girl who proved to Bitter Bark High that you can be hot and make an endless stream of bad jokes.”
“You think I’m hot?” Nothing buried about that compliment.
He just snorted as if the question was too dumb to answer. “I raise my glass to the future Doctor—”
“If you say Dolittle, I’m gonna pour this over your head.”
“Doctor Evangeline Hewitt, destined to become a world-class veterinary neurologist.”
“Oh.” The seriousness of the toast surprised her, but not the pride in his voice. He always sounded like that when he talked about her dream career. “As soon as I finish ten more years of vet school, specialty training, rotations and residencies, and certification.”
“Which you have mapped out like the ambitious creature you are. Anyway, it’ll be worth it, Evie. I’ll just be a small-town firefighter—”
“Pffft. By the time I finish school and training, you’ll be captain, like your dad is.” She lifted her brows. “And then on to the pinnacle, Chief Mahoney.”
“And you’ll be a literal brain surgeon.”
“Animal brain surgeon.”
“No less amazing.” He lowered his cup a bit. “You, Evie, are amazing.”
“Aww. Is that your toast? To my amazingness?”
“Yes. To your unparalleled amazingness.” He touched his cup to hers. “And the hope that this is the year…” She saw him swallow and then inhale slowly. “That we’re not friends anymore.”
Her hand froze on the way to her lips. “Oh. That’s not a joke.”
“No, it is not.”
So this was it. Tonight. “I’ll drink to that.”
He smoked her with a look that was somehow sexy and suggestive without having to say a word before tossing back his shot.
She took a tiny sip that did little more than wet her lips. She didn’t need it. She was drunk on possibilities. “It’s been different this summer,” she said on a whisper.
“Yeah, it has.”
Ever since she’d returned to Bitter Bark at the end of her junior year at NC State, their friendship had intensified to something new and physical and humming with tension.
Casual touches had been more frequent. Hugs goodbye had lasted longer. Their conversations, always honest, had gotten deep and thoughtful and adult, especially when they talked about why neither of them was in a relationship. And this afternoon while they were swimming in the lake? All that unnecessary and electrifying body contact had only made this freakishly hot August day even hotter.
In fact, it seemed like the whole summer had been leading up to this, their annual birthday camping trip when they’d be alone all night, with no friends, families, or parents expecting them home before sunrise. Tonight, no one even knew where
