Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
BECK
Peopling was bullshit, plain and simple.
Even after growing up in Starlight Cove and spending the majority of my life in a crowd, I still wasn’t comfortable in one. Sometimes I just wanted to be left the fuck alone, which was damn near impossible when you had five siblings—including a twin—and lived in a modern-day Mayberry.
Starlight Cove was small, just a tiny pocket along the Maine coast with a picturesque downtown to one side and a lush crown of forest on the other.
Everyone knew everyone, everyone was in everyone’s business, and no one could have a moment’s peace.
I loved the community aspect of our little town—everyone coming together when someone was in need—but I did not love the people aspect.
And there were a fuck-ton of people at the monthly Movies in the Park event, buzzing around me like flies.
Thankfully, my less than welcoming demeanor was well known in my hometown, and since I provided the best coffee in a fifty-mile radius and the best blueberry scones, well, anywhere, people tended to give me a wide berth so they could stay on my good side.
Ironically, the one person I liked outside my family hadn’t known those rules when she’d moved here and had been a persistent early morning irritant from Day One.
Everly Bowman was too goddamn sunshiney for anyone to have to deal with at 7 a.m., but somehow she’d gotten under my skin by showing up every day, without fail, and talking my ear off whether I’d wanted her to or not.
I’d grown to tolerate her, and then accept her, and then, miraculously, started to like her.
And then I’d gone and done something even worse…
Blankets and chairs were spread across the vast lawn of the park just off Main Street.
A cartoon played on the inflatable screen to keep the kids occupied as everyone found their spots and settled in for the double feature.
Concession stands dotted the perimeter, but I never bought anything from them.
Why would I? I cooked for a living and could make anything they had twice as good for half as much.
Besides, they didn’t sell Nanaimo bars here, or anywhere around here for that matter.
“What’d you bring me?” My twin, Ford, dropped down next to me on the ground and reached for the cooler at my side.
I might’ve shared a womb with him, but I had no intention of sharing this, so I swatted away his questing fingers before he could touch it. “Absolutely nothing.”
“No? Who’s that for, then?” He held up his hand and said, “Wait, wait, let me guess… Everly’s on her way.”
I grunted in the affirmative but otherwise didn’t respond. When he didn’t have a quippy comeback, I glanced his way to find his smug-ass face already turned toward me.
“What?”
He shrugged, that smirk mocking me. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. If it were nothing, you wouldn’t have that stupid look on your face.”
“I just think it’s interesting, is all.”
“How much you manage to irritate me every day? I wouldn’t exactly call that interesting, but maybe you need to get out a bit more.”
He barked out a laugh, and my lips twitched.
I was closer to him than nearly anyone else in the world, but we couldn’t be more opposite.
Where I loathed people, Ford gravitated toward them.
Especially of the female variety. He got out—and in, and out again—plenty.
Definitely more than I had over the past two years, though that wasn’t difficult, considering my bar was set at zero.
“What I think is interesting is how much you can’t see what’s right in front of you,” he said.
“Your ugly face is right in front of me.”
“We’re twins.”
“Fraternal,” I said, though that didn’t mean much.
The McKenzie genes were strong, and all four of my brothers and I bore a striking resemblance to one another.
Even our baby sister fit right in with the group, though she hadn’t been blessed with the height and had maxed out almost a foot shorter than the rest of us.
“What I meant,” he said, “was that Everly is right in front of you.”
I snapped my head up and darted my gaze around, looking for the bubbly, too-bright-for-her-own-good redhead who’d somehow, beyond all reason, become my closest friend. “Where?”
Ford laughed loud enough to draw everyone’s attention—exactly what I didn’t want—and I showed him just how much I appreciated it with a swift elbow to his gut.
He huffed out a breath and then stood before I could land another. “Exactly,” he said with a grin as he walked backward before disappearing into the crowd.
By now, I was used to the not-so-subtle hints that came from absolutely everyone.
After two years of being friends with Everly, I’d been on the receiving end of the assumptions.
My siblings hadn’t ever hidden the fact that they thought she and I should be a couple.
Everyone in the whole damn town seemed to think that.
Well, everyone except the two people involved in the supposed coupling.
She was gorgeous, yes, and she was funny and smart and kind to a fault. The perfect woman, I was pretty sure. But she was…Everly. And Everly wasn’t meant to be mine.
Then, as if I’d summoned her, she strode toward me across the lawn, the sun setting at her back and lighting her hair on fire.
Heads turned as she walked past, people waving or stopping her to chat—something they never would’ve dared try with me.
I didn’t even think she realized how people gravitated toward her.
But that made sense. All living things longed for the sun, and Everly was sunshine personified.
She dropped into the spot Ford had vacated, her brows raised, those ice-blue eyes locked on me. “Do you find it weird that couples rarely discuss butt stuff before someone shoves something up an asshole? I mean…in my world, that would merit at least a mention.”
I inhaled sharply, choking on my own spit and then proceeding to hack for a full minute. When I finally had myself under control, I said, “Jesus, Everly. That’s how we’re starting conversations now?”
She shrugged, her eyes dancing. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you’d be totally fine with a woman going to town on you and then—oop—finger in your ass.”
I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Can we maybe not have our book club discussion when little Susie is five yards away?”
The last thing I needed was to discuss this week’s book—which was a bit darker than her usual taste—and get hard for everyone in the damn town to see.
She tilted her head to the side to study me. “I guess. But only because you have your grumbly face on.”
Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her face clear of makeup except for the shit she put on her lips that made them shiny and smell like strawberries. Would they taste like strawberries, too?
I jerked my gaze away from her mouth and focused on the cartoon playing on the screen. “Grumbly is a noise, not a look.”
“Oh, believe me, you’ve made it a look.” She blew out a long sigh. “And fine, point taken. We can discuss Chapter Twenty-Two later, but I have thoughts.”
I forced myself to stay still and pretend like I was trying to recall what happened in Chapter Twenty-Two.
But I knew Chapter Twenty-Two. I remembered exactly what happened, and let’s just say I suddenly had a newfound interest in rope play.
And if past discussions were anything to go by, she’d tell me, in great detail, what she liked and didn’t like about it.
Whether I’d intended to or not, I’d amassed an encyclopedia titled Everly’s Sexual Pleasure Buttons, and each week, I added more entries.
If not directly from her mouth, then from the dog-eared, highlighted, flagged sections on her physical copies.
And there I’d sit, stone-faced, and pretend like I didn’t want to do every goddamn one of those things to her.
Recalling how that book’s hero had toyed with the heroine, blindfolding her and tying her up while alternating between using a dildo and his cock had mine stiffening in my jeans.
From the way Everly was shifting next to me, she, apparently, was having the same reaction.
My dick throbbed as if in reminder that it’d been too damn long—two years, to be exact—since it’d had someone else besides my right hand show it some love.
Very much needing my mind focused on something else, I asked, “Where’s Chuck?”
“Who?” she asked, just to be a brat.
“Your dog,” I said flatly.
She smiled at me. “You know that’s not her name.”
I pressed my lips into a flat line. “Well, it should be. I don’t know why you’d name your dog something so stupid anyway.”
Her grin only widened, and I blew out a frustrated breath.
“Fine. Where’s…Chuckanut?” I grumbled, forcing the name out.
She laughed, her eyes dancing, and truth be told, if my saying that made her react like that, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She leaned in, bumping her shoulder into mine.
“She’s at home. Didn’t feel like coming tonight.
And I named her that because it reminds me of home, and it makes me happy. ”
“I’m pretty sure everything makes you happy.”
“Not everything, but your cooking definitely does.” She reached for the cooler I’d brought, and I let her—I’d learned long ago there was no use putting up any roadblocks with her after she set her mind on something.
And considering it was eight o’clock at night and I’d bet my left nut she hadn’t eaten much of anything today, she most definitely had her mind set on food.
She gasped, her eyes flying to mine, the smile that was bright enough to light up the night sky pointed directly at me, setting off a warm ache in my chest. “You brought me Nanaimo bars?”
“Don’t I always?” I said, ignoring the pleasant little buzz that settled over me at her happiness.
“Well…yes.” She lifted a single shoulder as she pulled out a bar and hummed as she made googly eyes at her favorite treat. “But I never expect it.”