Page 61 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

And Jordan—my peace-loving, tender-hearted best friend—hauls off and punches Donny Franklin in the nose.

Howling, Donny grabs his face and screams. Blood falls between his fingers. “I think you broke it, you complete lunatic!”

“And I’ll break more if you come near her ever again.” Jordan reaches for my hand. “And for the record, it’sJordan, not Johnny, you total waste of space.”

Then he pulls me to the hotel lobby, not stopping to look backward, not stopping to grab my clutch. We just keep barreling toward the elevators. I don’t know where, but it’s with Jordan, and I don’t care.

Before we step through the open elevator door, I glance over my shoulder at my ex, who is ordering someone to call a doctor, and the blonde who has leapt to his defense, and the waiters all crowded around him. I’m shaking from the inside out—with relief, with terror, with his words still bouncing around in my head.

Sloppy seconds.

Worth nothing.

A mess.

And when the doors finally close and we are alone in the small space, the noise of the lobby cuts out, and Jordan turns to me. “Are you okay?”

It’s then that every bit of emotion seeps from me. All I can do is slump against him and sob.

He tucks me against his side and murmurs soothing words of comfort, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. His protective grip is fierce, a reassurance I’ve never known before—not from my dad, not from Blake. For the first time, someone has physically defended me like this, punching away my past and guarding my future.

Nobody has been a truer friend than Jordan Carmichael.

And I…I absolutely love him for it.

nineteen

JORDAN

I can’t believe that just happened.

As I pace the hotel room—a surprisingly expansive suite with a separate living area, bedroom, and bathroom—I loosen my tie and toss it over the back of the ruby-colored couch next to my suit jacket. My shoes trample the delicate trail of red rose petals strewn from the front door to the closed bedroom door, a barrier that feels all too solid right now. The sound of running water filters through the air, and I can’t tell if Marilee is washing away the lingering touch of that demon, or simply changing into something more comfortable. I’d understand either way.

I’m just sorry I didn’t hit him harder.

Donny ruined what could have been one of the sweetest nights of my life, intruding upon our moment like a shadow that wouldn’t dissipate. This place—this beautiful, romantic haven clearly orchestrated by someone with a penchant for love—deserves better than the chaos he introduced. Candles cast muted light against the elegantly papered walls, while a gentle fire dances in the hearth, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill in my heart. Raindrops patter rhythmically against the patio, where the French doors stand invitingly open, gauzy curtains swaying with the breath of the night.

We should be sharing laughter after indulging in a feast of steak and potatoes, curled up on this couch, lost in a show, the world melting away. Maybe we’d explore the thrill of a kiss, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s arms.

Instead, Marilee is spent from crying, and my insides still roil with the desire to march back down those stairs and take another swing at Donny.

After what feels like an eternity of pacing, I sink onto the couch, resting my hands on my knees, staring into the fire’s flickering embrace as I wait for her to emerge. I just wish I knew what she needs from me, because I’ve never felt more helpless.

Finally, the bedroom door creaks open, and she steps out. My breath catches. Her face is cleansed of makeup, her hair cascading in soft, loose waves, pins discarded. She’s wearing my flannel pants and a T-shirt that swallows her smaller frame whole, a sight that twists my heart and elicits a primal, possessive urge to claim her as mine.

“Hey,” I manage to choke out, my voice rough. “I ordered room service. They’ll bring it up with your purse. Are you sure you don’t want me to grab your suitcase from your car?”

“No, thanks.” Her voice is flat, a stark contrast to the vibrant woman I know. She crosses the room and pushes the gauzy curtain aside, gazing out at the fog creeping in with the rain. It settles over the foothills, softening the vineyard’s familiar outlines, wrapping everything in a shroud of secrecy and romance. It feels like a poignant embrace, a lullaby inviting us into a quieter, more contemplative space.

And yet, I don’t know if we’ll get there. I don’t know if we can. The shadows feel close by, waiting to snatch away the light.

I watch Marilee, admiring the elegant curve of her silhouette and the tendrils of hair dancing around her waist, and an ache of longing cracks deep within me. When she turns back, her expression is a mixture of sorrow and vulnerability. It’s heartbreaking, and all I want is to pull her close and shield her from pain.

“What is it, Lee?”

“I’m just…” Her voice quivers, and my heart sinks. “I’m so sorry. About Donny.”

“You never have to apologize for that creep. Ever.”

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