Page 17 of Just My Luck

SEVEN

SLOANE

We were so close.A few more inches and his mouth would have covered mine and devoured me—that much I knew for certain. Abel King didn’t strike me as the kind of man who delivered soft, gentle kisses. No, a man like that took, and I had been ready and willing to give.

In the early-afternoon sun, I dug my toes into the sand as I waited for Sylvie to join me on the beach. She’d called, and we’d agreed to meet up by the water so her son could splash around and we could catch up.

Nerves skittered through me as I wondered if she’d somehow know I’d been fantasizing about her oldest brother. Sylvie was much quieter and more reserved than me, but I still think she’d have plenty to say about me hooking up with him.

I groaned at myself as I looked out onto the water. I worked for the man, and that was a boundary that shouldn’t be crossed.

So why was I even thinking of hooking up with him in the first place?

Because he had a big dick, that was why.

My stomach whooshed as I recalled the hard mass that had lengthened between us as he’d held me. Oh yeah, Abel was big all right.

When his arm slid up my back and pressed me closer, I was a goner. His brown eyes went dark, and when his tongue slid over his lip, all I wanted was a taste.

He should have kissed me. At that moment, I didn’t care that he was my boss or my friend’s brother. Not only would I have allowed the kiss, but I hadcravedit.

My nipples hardened into aching points just thinking about his hulking frame folding over mine, pinning me to a soft mattress and allowing me to steal his warmth. That was also something totally unexpected. Abel ranhot—and not just in the tall-and-muscular handsome man kind of way, but as though actual lava coursed beneath his skin.

I soaked up the summer sun and listened to the steady rhythm of water lapping at the shoreline. I let my mind wander to what it might feel like for his rough hands to rake over my naked body. Would he put those massive hands to good use? Was he even a good kisser?

Freaking Reina.

In reality, I didn’t blame herat allfor needing help in the taproom. It was also obvious she knew something was up. Despite me trying to pretend like nothing had happened in Abel’s office, Reina kept looking at me with sly, knowing smiles.

Shit.

What the hell was wrong with me? The man barely spoke in complete sentences around me, and when he did, he was usually irritated. In fact, most of the time he was downright rude. Still, there were tiny glimmers where I saw something—someone—different. He cared about his employees, and he loved that brewery. He was soft and gentle with my children. Sylvie always promised there was a soft heart hidden in there somewhere, and that had to count for something, right?

As if I willed her into existence, sand kicked up beside me as Sylvie plopped down with her son August in her arms.

“Hey,” she huffed.

Her son was the perfect mix of her and Duke, with sandy-blond hair and light-brown eyes. His pillowy baby cheeks were slowly changing into those of a toddler. I grinned, holding my arms open and opening my hands in a grabby motion. “Give him here!”

Sylvie smiled and hoisted her son into my arms. Her light-blond hair was tucked into the back of a Sullivan Farms baseball cap and tumbled down her back in a thick wave. Her brown eyes were shadowed by the brim, but I could see she’d never looked happier.

“Ooof.” I nuzzled Gus’s chubby neck. “You’re getting huge.”

“Right?” Sylvie said as she arranged a beach blanket and deposited a few toys for Gus. “He’s a monster.”

“No,” I said, speaking to the grinning toddler, who blew a raspberry in my face. “Well, acutemonster maybe.” I squeezed him, and Gus tugged at my ponytail.

It felt like only yesterday the twins were Gus’s age. Lately time moved too quickly. I’d always wanted a big family, lots of kids and a house full of sunshine and laughter. I swallowed back a hot ball of regret, shoving the sad thoughts from my mind and focusing on my friend.

“What about Ben and Tillie?” Sylvie asked.

I set Gus down on his blanket and shook a crocheted jellyfish toy to grab his attention. “Granddad took them fishing. He should be dropping them off in a little while.”

“That’s nice. How is Bax?” My granddad, Norman Robinson, was known around town as Bax—don’t ask me why.

I sighed. “I don’t know. Sad? Bored? He won’t talk about it.”

“Men.” Sylvie playfully rolled her eyes.

---