Most Likely to Tempt Love (The Yearbook #4)

Chapter 1 Maya

MAYA

Isat in my truck, gripping the steering wheel, staring through the windshield. The sign for Lacey’s Bar & Grill flashed at me from the roof of the low building, taunting me.

“We’re not going in, then?” Poppy asked from the passenger seat.

She’d gone all out for tonight: pink hair curled and pinned up, a flowy top that made her bright blue eyes pop, and not a speck of flour in sight.

Friday night Poppy was a different creature to bakery owner Poppy, and she wore it well.

“Humph. Of course we’re going in.”

“No one will mind if you chicken out.”

Barely restraining myself from snorting, I said, “And why would I chicken out?”

“Because there’s a big homecoming celebration for your brother’s super hot best friend who—”

“We don’t know that he’s hot. We haven’t seen him in over a decade.”

“Well, he was super hot when we were teenagers, and I doubt that’s changed.”

“He could have a beer gut.”

“I bet he doesn’t.” Picking up where she’d been interrupted, Poppy continued, “Who you had a massive crush on for pretty much your whole life, even though he never saw you as anything more than Dan’s cute kid sister.

Until that fateful moment when he saw you in your birthday suit, at which point he turned tail and ran from the house. ”

Heat crawled up my neck at the memory. I’d been in my bedroom, fresh out of the shower, towel wrapped around me while I dried my hair. I’d reached for something on my dresser, the towel had slipped, and there he was. Standing in the hallway. Seeing everything.

We’d stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Him frozen. Me frozen. Both of us wearing matching expressions of pure horror. Then he’d turned and bolted, and I’d scooped up the towel, clutching it to my chest about ten seconds too late.

He’d avoided me completely after that. Wouldn’t even look at me. And then he’d shipped out for the army, and I hadn’t seen him since.

Ten years. Ten whole years, and my face still burned thinking about it.

“Right.” I cleared my throat. “Yeah, chickening out makes perfect sense now that you mention it.”

Poppy’s expression softened. “Hey. If you’re really stressed about it, we can go back to yours.”

God, that sounded tempting. My couch, a glass of wine. Maybe some trashy reality TV. No awkward reunions. No risk of spontaneous combustion from embarrassment.

“I wish.” I slumped back against my seat. “But Mom’d be so upset if I didn’t show.”

She’d organized this whole thing. Called in favors at Lacey’s, lined everything up just so. If I bailed, she’d never say she was disappointed. She’d just get that little crinkle between her eyebrows, and somehow that would be worse.

Poppy gave a decisive nod. “Okay then. Time to gird our loins.”

“That sounds painful. How do you even do that?”

“Not sure. And you’re stalling. Let’s go.”

Even though she wasn’t wrong, I let out a “Humph,” and shoved my door open.

Lacey’s hit us with a wall of noise the second we walked in. Friday night crowd, the jukebox cranking out something twangy, the smell of beer and fried food hanging in the air. I scanned the room on instinct, my stomach doing an annoying little flip.

No Nate. Not yet.

I huffed out a breath. Okay. I could work with that.

Mom had set up a long table toward the back. There were balloons tied to the chairs, and a banner strung up behind it that read WELCOME HOME in big block letters. She never did anything by halves.

My girls were already there, thank fuck. There was no way I could get through tonight without them. Poppy peeled off toward them immediately, sliding into an empty chair as if she had been saving her gossip for exactly this moment.

And there were my parents at the far end. Dad was nursing a beer while Mom fussed with something on the table.

A cluster of guys stood near the end of the table, beers in hand. Dan and Nate’s crowd from way back. Brody, the eldest of them and also my boss, was telling some story that had the others cracking up. He caught my eye mid-sentence and shot me a wink. Cheeky bastard.

There was no sign of my brother, though. which meant he was probably with Nate. Fetching him. Bringing him here. Any minute now.

Cool. Totally cool.

I made my way down the table, exchanging quick hugs and hellos as I went. Emily squeezed my arm. Mia told me I looked cute. Hannah wolf-whistled, which earned her an eye roll.

Mom pulled me into a hug. “You made it!” she beamed at me. “Isn’t this lovely? I think it turned out lovely.”

“The banner’s a nice touch,” I said.

“Well, Nate’s been away for so long, I wanted to make a fuss. You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Not at all,” I lied.

I grabbed an empty seat and dropped into it, positioning myself with a clear view of the door. Just so I wouldn’t be caught off guard when he walked in.

Moments later, the door swung open, and… there he was.

I forgot how to breathe. Possibly how to blink. My mouth was hanging open, and I couldn’t seem to close it.

Nate O’Hare had walked into Lacey’s Bar & Grill looking like he’d been carved out of marble by someone who really, really liked the male form. Girl, same. Well, this particular male form, at least.

He was taller than I remembered, maybe 6ft3 or thereabouts. His brown hair was cropped short, and his jaw was sharp enough to cut glass. The army had taken the boy I’d had a crush on and turned him into... a god. There was no other word for it.

Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.

Once everyone else caught sight of him, the table erupted. Chairs scraped back, voices overlapped, and suddenly everyone was moving forward in a wave of hugs and backslaps and “good to see you, man.”

I stayed rooted to my chair, watching like an idiot.

Move, I told myself. Get up. Act normal.

My legs finally cooperated. I stood, hovering at the edge of the group, not quite sure what to do, until the crowd thinned, and then he was right there. In front of me.

What was the protocol here? A wave? A handshake? Throw myself at him and lick him all over?

Those blue eyes locked onto mine, and suddenly I was sixteen again, feeling a surge of hormones I had no clue how to manage. Or fourteen. Or even twelve, which was when I first accepted that I was crushing hard on my brother’s best friend.

His gaze flicked to my lips, hot and heavy, before slowly tracking back up to my eyes. The breath hitched in my throat. He didn’t look horrified. He looked hungry.

Neither of us moved for a long moment.

Then his jaw tightened, just slightly, before he stepped forward and pulled me into a hug.

I was pressed against a wall of hard muscle, drowning in his scent, almost overcome by the feel of his arms around me. My heart pounded against my ribs so loudly I was sure he’d hear it.

Then, his voice low, he said, “Hey, Slayer.”

Oh. No. No, no, no, no.

This I could not deal with. My childhood nickname, said in that deep, rumbly voice, right in my ear.

“Um, hey Nate,” I squeaked. “Welcome home.”

I extricated myself from his arms, probably too fast to be casual, and retreated to the safety of my friends. Hannah shoved a glass of wine in my direction before I’d even fully sat down.

“Drink,” she ordered.

I drank. Deeply.

It didn’t take long for everyone to settle around the long table. I sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Nate ended up at the other end, with Dan and Brody. The food arrived. Plates of nachos and wings and loaded fries were laid out until every inch of the table was covered in bar food.

This was fine. This was perfectly manageable. I was doing fine.

Until Mom came in like a goddamn agent of chaos.

“So, Nate.” She leaned forward, chin propped on her hand, radiating a warmth that made people spill their secrets. “How was your trip in? You must be exhausted.”

“Not too bad. Flight got in around four, picked up a rental, checked in to the Ballantyne, and Dan grabbed me from there.”

Mom blinked. “The Ballantyne?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re not staying with your parents?”

Something flickered across his face, there and gone. “They moved down to New Bern a few years back, into a little house by the water. There’s no room for guests.”

Mom shook her head, looking genuinely distressed. “Well, we can’t have you staying at a hotel. You’ll stay with us.”

He shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s fine, Mrs. Brookes. Really. It’s comfortable, and I don’t want to put anyone out.”

“Put anyone out?” She looked genuinely offended. “You’re practically family. John, tell him.”

Dad glanced up from his beer. “She’s not going to let this go, son. Trust me.”

“We’ve got plenty of room. I mean, since we converted Dan’s old room to my craft room, there’s only Maya’s. It’s just sitting there empty, since she moved in with Emily. You’d be doing us a favor, really.”

My head snapped up, right as a collective gasp of surprise went up from the girls. “Wait, what?”

Mom smiled at me. Serenely. Like she hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the middle of my evening.

“I appreciate the offer,” Nate said, “but I really don’t want to impose—”

“It’s not an imposition. It’s settled.” Mom reached over and patted his hand. “You can check out of that hotel and come straight over tomorrow.”

Nate opened his mouth, probably to protest again, but Dan clapped him on the shoulder.

“Give it up, man. You know how she is.”

Nate’s eyes flicked to me, just for a second. “Alright,” he said slowly. “Thank you, Mrs. Brookes. That’s very kind of you.”

“Nancy,” she corrected. “You’re too old to be calling me Mrs. Brookes.”

Poppy reached over and slid my wine glass closer to me on the table. I reached for it, tossing it back and draining the contents. This was nothing to get het up about.

Nate O’Hare was going to be SLEEPING IN MY BED! The bed I’d lain in, night after night after night, thinking of him. Thinking of him while I....

Fuck.