Chapter 3
Chapter Three
A collective sigh rings through the crowd as Sofie and Zach kiss under the wedding arch. Guests jump to their feet, cheering and clapping.
After the bride and groom hurry down the aisle, the rest of us in the wedding party follow. When I meet Hutch, he slips his hand into mine. It’s such a simple thing, but my heart skips as we sashay down the aisle.
I’m already smiling and tearing up thanks to Zach and Sofie’s heartfelt vows, but Hutch’s big palm cradling mine turns the moment into something complex and heated inside me.
Something scary.
This strange energy has been building since I stepped over the threshold of our shared cabin. We’ve always been close, but this feels different.
Have I thought about something more with Hutch? Yes…and also…no effing way.
Yes because he’s hunky and sweet and funny and humble…protective and strong and thoughtful. Hard no because he’s a notorious player and sure to break my heart. Then we have his job, which he ’ll never quit, and my goal to return to Finn River after medical school and someday settle down with someone who chooses me.
At the end of the aisle, we follow the others in the wedding party to the pretty spot on the edge of the meadow for pictures. Hutch hasn’t let go of my hand.
“You doing okay?” he asks, sending me a quick sideways glance.
His dark green eyes shine like shaded pools of tranquility. I blink and look away before I’m tempted to dive right into them.
“Such a beautiful ceremony,” I say.
Hutch swings my hand. “They make a great couple.”
Ahead, the photographer lines up several shots of Zach and Sofie with the rocky Bitterroots in the background while the rest of the wedding party hovers in the shade, heckling.
“Stop making me laugh!” Sofie protests through a burst of laughter, her shoulders shaking.
“Let me help,” Zach says, and draws her to him for a lusty kiss.
The peanut gallery goes wild with catcalls and whistles.
Sofie melts in Zach’s arms. The photographer circles, getting in several shots before Zach finally releases her. Their eyes lock and it’s easy to see how lost they become in each other.
I dab the corners of my eyes.
“Here.” Hutch offers me a cotton hankie from his pocket.
Behind Hutch, the photographer brings in Sofie’s clan and William for a round of family shots, the lowering sun turning the light golden.
“Since when do you carry a handkerchief?” I remember the one I gave Kirilee as a gift the morning of her doomed wedding.
“Mom gave it to me,” Hutch replies with a shrug. “She said girls always cry at weddings.”
I imagine Hutch offering this hankie to some teared-up wedding guest who just happens to be pretty and exactly his type. “Never mind,” I say, and hand the hankie back.
He winks.
That skipping, fluttery hitch in my heart tickles my ribs again.
“What do I have to do to get on your dance card tonight?” I tease.
He scoffs. “You are my dance card.”
“Yeah, until someone else catches your eye.”
“You gettin’ possessive, Greely?” He pumps his eyebrows. “I kinda like it.”
“Ha.” I roll my eyes. “Like you need a bigger ego.” At least he can’t bring anyone back to the cabin tonight.
He wouldn’t do that, would he?
“Yoohoo!” the photographer calls, waving his arms at me and Hutch.
The rest of the wedding party is lined up with Zach and Sofie, all of them staring at us. We hurry over. I squeeze in next to Kirilee while Hutch comes in behind me.
“My eyes are on you, got it?” he says in my ear.
A current of heat rocks through me.
The photographer gives me an impatient quirk of his brow. “You two need a minute?”
Hutch places a hand on my hip, his big hand resting just…so. “We’re good.”
I force in a steadying breath.
Kirilee pinches my butt.
“Hey!” I yelp, which gets everyone laughing.
“Everybody, say queso!” the photographer calls.
“Queso!” we all chime.
We break into smaller groups for more pictures. After, I lose track of Hutch in the trek to the bar. I scan the crowd under the giant shade tent, expecting to find him chatting with a pretty girl or maybe even one of his old flames from high school, but he’s standing with his mom, Louisa, and the Huttons, who are like family to Zach.
My eyes are on you . What did Hutch mean by that? We’ve always teased each other, but this feels different. Maybe it’s just the champagne and the sweet vibes from sharing this beautiful day with our friends .
My tummy flutters.
What if he’s serious?
The bouquet lobs through the air to the sound of shrieks and “Oohs”, thankfully heading away from me. Charlotte, William’s girlfriend, catches it, and the crowd erupts with cheers and laughter. From the sidelines, Zach grabs William in a sideways hug, the two of them laughing.
The music starts up again, and bodies start moving all around me.
Hutch slides his hand into mine to stop me from leaving the dance floor. “Why do you look so relieved?”
I scoff. “It’s an archaic tradition. Why should there only be women up there? Why not all the young single people regardless of gender?”
He arches an eyebrow. “It’s a safety issue. If guys were up there, someone might get trampled.”
I laugh.
He steers me into the crowd, his big hand on my lower back, and though the night is cooling, the contact sends a prickle down my spine. A slow song starts playing, and before I can think to turn Hutch down, he gently pulls me close.
“You should visit me in Florida when I’m back from this deployment,” he says.
I risk a glance at him, but he’s focused on a point over my shoulder. “What would we do?”
He laughs. “Everything. There’s the beach, Kennedy Space Center, amazing street food, and oh, man, the salsa music is incredible.”
“I don’t know how to salsa dance,” I say.
He shrugs. “I don’t either, but it’d be fun to try it.”
“Sounds fun,” I say as he twirls me around. Thanks to the champagne buzz, a pleasant hum washes through me.
“Isn’t ballroom dancing a big thing in San Francisco?” he says, pulling me close again.
“How should I know? You think I have time for dancing?”
He expression softens. “You deserve to have fun now and then.”
“I’m having fun right now,” I say to steer us away from my leisure activities, of which there are very few. Between studying my brains out, attending classes, and keeping up with practicals, an audiobook during my bike commute is as fun as it gets.
The slow song fades, replaced by a catchy country tune, but Kirilee and Sawyer and the bride and groom join our little circle, and the mood turns joyful as we all jump around together. This would be the kind of moment where Hutch would slip away, drawn by a pretty face.
My eyes are on you, got it?
Stop . He doesn’t mean it that way.
Kirilee and I take turns spinning Sofie around until Zach steals her away again. When the band finally takes a break, the six of us walk to the bar under the tent, lit by strings of tiny white lights, casting guests’ faces with a soft, warm glow.
“Big plans for your birthday?” Hutch asks while we wait in line.
I lift my hair off of my hot neck and fan my face. Having an August birthday means most people forget about it, but not Hutch. Last year he sent me a care package in June with the annoying OPEN WHEN IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY AND NO PEEKING message scrawled across the front, with the military APO return label that makes it impossible to know where it was sent from. He could have been in Bahrain or Texas.
“Studying and a run through Fort Point,” I reply.
Hutch shoots me a curious look. “I thought you were seeing that surgeon resident guy?”
An empty feeling echoes through my chest. “Not anymore. ”
Hutch steps in front of me and gently cradles my shoulders, kindness filling his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It wasn’t serious.” Though I’d be lying if I said it didn’t still sting a little. Especially that he basically did the breaking up over text.
Hutch scowls. “Give me his address so I can talk some sense into him.”
“Hutch,” I warn.
His determined expression says he’s not joking. “Nobody hurts my girls.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t help.”
Arguing this point will lead us nowhere, so I let it go.
Zach and Sofie disappear just after the taco truck arrives, and the crowd starts to thin. Kirilee and Sawyer are next, slipping into the darkness hand in hand. They pause beyond the glow from the lights to kiss under the stars, and I have to tear my eyes away. I know it’s normal to be a little bit envious of my two besties who have both found their true love, but it feels extra sharp in this moment.
Hutch returns from escorting his mom to her car and pulls me to the dance floor for the last of Cannon’s “Loving You.” “You about ready for bed?”
“You don’t have to wait for me,” I say, giving him a look.
His face stills. “You’re gonna let me end this night alone?”
I give his chest a little shove. “You could use the practice.”
“Ouch, Greely, that hurts.”
I poke him in the side. “Good.”
From his pocket comes a steady chirping. Hutch slips out his phone, an edge of worry in his eyes. “Gimme a sec, okay?” he says to me.
“Of course.”
Hutch hurries past the dance floor and lifts the phone to his ear. “Hey,” he says in a soothing tone.
I drift to one of the tables under the tent and grab a bottle of water to drink while I wait. But minutes pass, and now that I’m sitting, my exhaustion might as well be a tree growing roots. From my spot, I can’t see Hutch. Maybe it’s his commanding officer calling with some critical mission details. Maybe it’s his younger sister, Beth, thirteen going on twenty and sassy as the day is long. There’s also the very real possibility that it’s a booty call from one of his Finn River standbys.
With a sigh, I roll to my feet and head down the path lit by paper lanterns. When I reach the row of cabins, all the lights are off, but I catch the occasional murmur of voices and soft groans coming through the windows of Kirilee and Sawyer’s.
With a sigh, I slip inside my cabin and close the windows so their serenading doesn’t keep me awake. Plus it was cold last night. Hutch likes it that way but it was like sleeping in an ice box. I had to get out the extra blankets.
Though I take my time getting ready for bed, Hutch still isn’t back when I step from the bathroom. When I fill my water glass from the tap, my eyes are drawn to the end of the dock and the broad-shouldered silhouette I’d know anywhere. It’s Hutch, sitting alone in the darkness.
I throw on a sweatshirt and pick up the bottle of water I grabbed for him and walk to the dock. Hutch must hear me coming, but he doesn’t turn around.
I settle in next to him and offer the bottle of water. “Hey.”
He cracks the lid and guzzles a long sip. “Sorry I left you hanging.”
“You okay?”
He nods. Over the dark lake surface zoom a pair of birds, their wings fluttering.
I gaze up at the sky so bright with dazzling stars the constellations look crowded.
“It was Luke. He’s going through a rough time.”
Luke Ballard and Hutch have been tight since their training and it’s only grown stronger thanks to being paired together on several missions. “You feel like sharing?”
He leans back on his hands. “We had a training mission that went shitways a few months ago. I’m not sure he’ll be back.”
“He was injured?”
“That’s the thing. He was the only one who didn’t get injured.”
It’s not hard to read between the lines. “PTSD.”
Hutch squints up at the sky. “He’s talking about leaving. Maybe put his psych degree to use somehow.”
“I’m glad he has you as a friend. That sounds really tough.”
“It’s just hard to believe. One minute we’re jumping out of the back of a cargo plane, having the time of our lives, and now he’s likely grounded for good. All that training. All those hours. He’s the toughest guy I know. How could this happen?”
“It’s not about how tough you are,” I say.
He sighs heavily. “I don’t like that.”
I smile in the darkness. “It’s hard to feel like we’re not in control, but it’s the truth.”
He gives me a playful glare. “Stop with the wisdom, okay?”
I laugh. “I’m right, though. All we can do is try to live in the moment.”
The look in his eyes softens. “Like this one. Being here with you.”
A charged tension spirals up my chest. I try to fight it, because I know what it is—and it can’t happen.
I rock to my feet. “Let’s call it a night, shall we?”
He reaches for my hand, and I take it, his big paw dwarfing mine. But instead of letting me help him up, he resists, jerking my frame.
“I’ve got a better idea,” he says.
I stand there fighting the prickles erupting in my chest and the heat coiling tight in my belly.
“Hutch.” It comes out tense with yearning, and I’m sure he hears it, too .
He rolls to his feet, never letting go of my hand. We face each other in the darkness, his eyes locked on mine.
He gently cradles my face, his touch making my pulse tap into my throat. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this, Greely.”
A tremor rattles through me, the kind that will only be satisfied in one way. I don’t trust myself to speak, so I close my eyes and kiss him.
Maybe I’m tired of fighting this inexplicable energy that’s danced around us all weekend. Or maybe it’s how vulnerable he seems in this moment, and this kiss is his reward.
But when our lips touch, I lose track of the thoughts running rampant in my mind. An electric charge fires through me. Like every cell in my body is jumping up and down. His lips are surprisingly tender, the kiss slow and sensual. He lingers for an instant, his lips embracing mine, like he’s letting himself get a little bit lost. The idea that I could be the one to make him surrender—me, the girl on the sidelines—makes my belly warm.
I kiss him back, the heat inside me rising, buzzing. He flicks his tongue, and I sigh in delight. The hollow between my thighs gives a needy pulse. Will I later look back on it as my final warning? Maybe, but right now, I don’t care.
His tongue flicks past my lips and his fingers plunge deeper into my hair, like he plans to keep me here. I press my palms to his chest because I’m not about to let him have what he wants so easily.
A flicker of a smile plays across his face, his gaze turning playful, like he expects nothing less of me.
He kisses me again, groaning as our tongues play a sensual game of chase.
“I knew I’d love kissing you,” he says, resting his forehead against mine. “But there’s something else I know I’m going to love, and we can’t do it here.”
Butterflies erupt in my stomach, eating up the empty spaces inside my chest. “Then you better do something about it,” I say, sliding my hand to his lower back to steady myself, but it only eliminates the sliver of distance between us, and with it, the last of my apprehensions.
Because he feels good this close to me. Our bodies fit together in a way that sends a thrill over my skin and makes my heart tap harder against my ribs.
With a sly grin, Hutch takes my hand and leads me down the dock.
I should use the time to reclaim my senses. We could laugh off those kisses as a silly impulse or a reaction to all the love in the air tonight. I’m likely not the only one who’s heard the muffled cries of pleasure coming from the other cabins.
But I don’t do that. If anything, the steady pace of our footsteps only makes my craving tighter, hotter. And it must be the same for him, too, because once inside our cabin, he shuffles me to the little table below the window—the closest available surface—and lifts me onto it. My thighs part like he already has command of my body. To my overloaded brain, it feels like yet another sign what’s happening is exactly as it’s supposed to be.
Nothing to fear here.
If only that were true. We’re crossing the line we established long ago—or did we? I should care more. I should worry about what will happen…after.
He caresses up my bare thighs, his touch silencing my thoughts. I can’t turn off what my body is screaming for me to have. So I wrap my thighs around his, bringing where he’s hard and thick exactly where I need him.
He swallows the whimper escaping my throat with a hungry, sensual kiss that makes my toes curl. I grip the back of his neck and arch my hips to his, wanting more friction, more pressure, more…
“Patience, Greely,” he coos in my ear, sending a wave of prickles down my spine.
I groan, because of course he’s read my mind. “Watch it, or two can play that game.”
“A challenge, huh?” He lifts my sweatshirt and tosses it aside. Without my bra, my nipples are painfully erect beneath my thin T-shirt.
“Count on it.”
He cradles my face again and our lips touch, his tongue flicking with mine. The heat between us is like a physical thing, pressing me in on all sides, making me ache.
I pull his shirt tails from his pants and caress underneath. Touching him is like a sexy anatomy lesson—his abs and obliques and pecs are tight and muscular, honed and strong after countless hours of training. Everything about him is steely and manly and hard. I want him on me everywhere while his firm, possessive touch roams my body.
He yanks his shirt over his head and whips it aside, then arches down to mark my shoulder, collarbone, the crook of my neck with little nibbles. His fingers curl into my hair, pulling my head to the side. It’s demanding, but I’d expect nothing less from this man. Maybe it’s why I’ve never let myself imagine this. Because I might like the way he takes control a little too much.
He grips my upper thigh with his other hand, his thumb dangerously close to where my heartbeat is thrumming to an urgent ache. I brace off the table behind me, giving me precious leverage to keep our bodies pressed close.
“You smell so good,” he says on a groan, kissing up to my ear, “I want to kiss you everywhere.”
I bite my tongue from begging him to do just that, and pretty please right now , because I’m not ready for him to see how crazy he’s making me.
He glides the flat of his hand down the curve of my back as we kiss again in a burst of heat and hunger, his lips sensual and his tongue relentless. Beneath my shorts, his thumb sweeps up, igniting my skin.
“Fuck,” he groans, gliding with the pad of his thumb. He’s barely touched me and already my arousal is throbbing so hard my spine is vibrating .
He hooks my shorts in his fingers and tugs them down. “Where the hell are your panties?” He scolds, though what’s underneath that tone is an edge of longing, of need. That he could feel that way about me sends more butterflies racing up my throat.
“I don’t wear them to bed.”
“Good thing I didn’t know that last night.” He strokes my pussy with the flat of his fingers, drawing a shuddering gasp from my lips.
I want to ask what he means because it’s dangerous, the kind of thought that could crack my heart right open, and I’m not getting hurt like that. Not by him.
He urges my thighs apart and scoops my ass closer to the edge of the table, then caresses me in all the right ways, his fingers firm and sensual. My thighs start to tremble and my breaths come faster against his lips. As if reading my mind, he slowly sinks his finger inside me.
He swallows the whimper working its way up my throat with a slow, seductive kiss while his touch draws all my focus to one single craving. His thumb presses my clit with each thrust, making me want everything faster, harder. I wrap my arms around his neck and hang on, burying my face into the crook of his neck.
“That’s it,” he praises as I pant against his skin.
The knot inside me snaps and the tension and heat bundled so tight spirals free, turning the ache into something bright and joyful. I utter a cry as Hutch pushes me over the edge. He holds me there as my body grows languid and heavy. I rock into his arms and hold him tight.
He lifts me from the table, cradling the back of my head to keep me close. “Fucking beautiful,” he says into my hair.
“That…was amazing,” I manage as the room slowly spins back into focus.
He chuckles. “Catch your breath, Greely, ‘cause we can do better than that.”
I laugh into his shoulder as he carries me to the ladder.