Page 72 of Home Sweet Home

“Do you know what Ireallywant for my birthday?” she asked.

He pressed his leg closer to hers, his fingers grazing the inside of her thigh just above her knee. “Tell me.”

She met his stare. “To pick up where we left off.”

A cabinet door slammed shut, and Evie looked to see Josh through her kitchen window, rooting around in the pantry even though he’d just had dinner.

“Is Della—” Evie asked.

West nodded. “Doing needlepoint in the living room. Light’s better in there, apparently.”

Evie sighed. “I wish our houses didn’t have so many people in them.”

A grin stretched across West’s face. “I’ve got an idea.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

“You know,I’ve never been in here,” Evie said, running her hand along the lacquered wood lining the walls of Patty Sullivan’s boat. It was bigger inside than she thought, a little room lined with cabinets and counters with an honest-to-god sink. The ceiling was low enough that West had to crouch, but Evie could stand. And on one side, there was a bed, so small she couldn’t imagine both of them fitting on it, but it was an actual bed, made up with clean sheets and a comforter with navy anchors on it spread over the mattress.

“Color me shocked,” he said with a grin, arms behind his head, his eyes following her as she explored the boat. He was sitting on the bed. When they’d walked in, he’d wasted no time making himself comfortable.

The glint in his eye told her everything she needed to know—that West thought teenaged Evie was a Goody Two-shoes. She definitely had been, but the instinct to prove him wrong was strong. She whipped her head toward him. “Hey. Marcus Shelton felt me up in the pirate ship in the park.”

A grin spread across his face. “Really? Bastard.”

“The spokes on the wheel kept jabbing me in the back.” Evie turned away from him so he couldn’t see her smile. She’d been sixteen, and West had been long gone, but she’d closed her eyes and pretended Marcus’s hands were his. On one of the cabinets, there was a latch, which she slid open. “Jackpot.”

Inside was a full bottle of Tanqueray. She twisted the lid and took a deep swig.

West took the bottle from her and took a sip with a wince. “Don’t tell Rich, but I can’t stand gin.”

“Right,” Evie said as she took the bottle back. “Because we’re best friends who tell each other all our secrets.”

In the time it had taken them to get to Rock Pond, the sun had started to set. Twilight streamed through the small side window above the bed. As she looked at West, who was still looking at her, nerves rattled through her, and she took another swig of gin.

“You can sit, you know.” He patted the spot next to him.

She nodded and bit her lip, trying to calm herself down as she sat next to him, less than an inch of space between them. She wasn’t sure what had brought up all the anxiety to the surface. A few hours ago, they’d gone to second base on her kitchen table, but that hadn’t felt on purpose, just a reaction.

“Now that I’m here, though,” Evie said, smoothing her palm over the comforter. “I have questions. Like, where did Patty get money to buy a boat this nice?”

“Selling Beanie Babies on eBay.” West glided his fingers toward hers, shifting his whole body so the inch of space between them no longer existed.

“And why did she buy a boat when there isn’t water anywhere? And how is this bed made? Like who cleans the sheets?”

West’s face nuzzled into her neck. “All good questions.”

“Why does she keep leaving booze in here if people just come in and drink it?” Evie’s eyes closed, her voice a whisper, all the volume she could manage given every bit of concentration focused on the kisses below her ear.

She braved looking at him. Up close, in the evening light, he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, with a crooked nose, his eyes heavy from the gin, golden waves tucked behind his ears. It was hard to believe he was real, and as if to prove that he was, she reached for him, her fingers grazing the spot below his cheekbone.

“Sorry,” she said, drawing her hand away. “I’m nervous.”

West took a breath so deep she could see it. He reached for her hand and brought it to his face. “Don’t be sorry. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about this for weeks. Basically since I saw you at Mel’s. And I’m nervous too.”

It was hard to imagine this man who was built like a Greek god and was generally one ego boost away from turning into a complete megalomaniac being nervous, but one look at him told her it was true. His breathing was erratic, sharp exhales pushing out of his nose, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed. As if to drive the point home, he took her hand and pressed it to his chest. She could feel his heart beating so fast that in any other circumstances, she would have been concerned.

“You do this to me,” he said, his voice ragged. “Decades of cardio completely undone by you, Evie Cauley.”

---