Trailing behind us is Caleb in his Jeep, with Scarlett in the front seat, and Connor and his little sister Penelope squashed together in the back. If I sit up straight, I can see Scarlett in the rearview mirror, jamming to whatever playlist she’s forcing the rest of the car to endure.
For a moment, I regret opting to ride with my brother. I love him, but Wolfie isn’t the easiest guy to talk to, especially if you’re sitting in a car with him for almost three hours. Lucky for me, I wasn’t the only one who opted for a quieter road trip.
Am I lucky, though? Truthfully, I can’t decide how I feel about being crammed in this small space with Hayes riding shotgun.
I was reluctant to leave Chicago in the first place, what with all my obligations surrounding the fundraiser. But now, with the promise of actual downtime and sunbathing, I’m grateful that Wolfie and Scarlett insisted I come along.
Trying to chase away any fleeting worries, I close my eyes. Maybe I can sleep for the rest of the car ride, and then when I wake up, I’ll already be in Saugatuck. There’s no such thing as work in Saugatuck—not with the beach calling my name.
With my eyes closed, my sense of smell is heightened. It’s not just the sweet aroma of fresh air that’s stirring excitement in me. It’s Hayes and his clean, masculine scent that always makes me dizzy with desire.
Giving in to my curiosity, I open my eyes and sneak a glance at him.
Hayes stares out the windshield, his sharp eyes focused on the road ahead of us. In the sunlight, they look like liquid gold. Somehow he’s already perfected his summer tan, evident by his sculpted forearm resting against the armrest. I find myself staring at his long fingers, tapping to the beat of the song on the radio against the leather of the car seat.
When he glances in the rearview mirror and catches me staring, I struggle to spit out an excuse.
“Do . . . do you like this song?”
I pinch my leg, hard. Where’s the button that will eject my seat straight into the stratosphere?
“Never heard it before,” Hayes mutters with an apathetic shrug, grumpier than one ought to be on his way to his family’s lake house. Crappy mood or not, he’s still gorgeous.
I hum along to the music, grateful this conversation ended before I could embarrass myself any further. I catch Wolfie’s eyes, watching me from the rearview mirror. I offer him a nonchalant smile and immediately avert my gaze.
Yes, this blurry scenery whizzing past is very, very interesting.
No, I’m not concerned that my big brother is on to me, suspecting the crush I have on his best friend and business partner.
Hayes seems to be completely oblivious to my interest in him, thank God. And I seriously doubt Wolfie has any suspicions. As sharp as his insight may be into all things business-related, he’s pretty blind to anything involving emotions. Unlike me, who’s constantly consumed with them.
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t realize we’ve arrived at our destination until the car comes to a stop. I sit up straight, eager to get out of the car and stretch my legs.
I’ve been to Hayes’s family lake house before, but it’s even more beautiful than I remember. The dark, rustic exterior is surrounded on three sides by strikingly tall shade trees. The porch wraps around the house, providing plenty of space for the whole group to hang out and enjoy a cocktail, or for some introverted quality time alone on the porch swing.
My favorite part is the glimmering view of Lake Michigan, only thirty or so yards from the house. If you step off the porch and onto the deck, you have an unobstructed view of the path that winds down to the beach and its miraculously blue water.
“Coming through.” Hayes breezes by me, the straps of both of our duffels in one hand and a twelve-pack of beer in the other.
“You don’t have to carry mine,” I call out, jogging to keep up with him. There must have been rain last night, because my shoes sink in the muddied gravel of the driveway with every step.
“Don’t tell me you forgot the keys,” Wolfie says, his voice classically stern. He’s already at the door, sitting on top of a cooler and looking all kinds of impatient.
I’m sure no one will forget the year Hayes forgot the keys anytime soon. A neighbor saw us breaking in through a window and called the police. It took Hayes almost twenty minutes to convince them that it’s actually his grandma’s house.
“Shit,” Hayes mutters, then turns to me. “Keys are in my pocket. Wanna help a guy out? Unless you don’t mind mud on your bag.”
“Oh, um, I’ll get them. Which pocket?”
“Left front.”
Do not think about his penis, don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it.
Slipping my hand into his pocket, I do my best to ignore the hard angle of his hip bone, the firm muscle of his thigh, the heady scent of his skin so close to mine. I fish the keys out, a single ring holding two simple keys—front door and back door, I assume.
When I meet Hayes’s eyes again, he’s completely unfazed, no hint of emotion in their honey depths. Based on the burning of my cheeks, I must look like a tomato. I turn away quickly, tossing the keys to Wolfie and jogging back to the car to find any remaining groceries to bring inside.
Caleb’s Jeep rolls across the gravel driveway to join us. Out hops Scarlett, her arms outstretched for a hug. I could use a little Scarlett energy this weekend.
“Hi, baby.” She sighs happily into my ear, rocking us side to side.
“Hi.” I chuckle, squeezing her tight. “This is going to be
