Chapter 6 #2
“Just don’t overdo it.” His laugh unfurled like smoke. “My mom’ll grow suspicious otherwise. She knows I wouldn’t go for a guy who folds like wet paper—I like a bit of bite.”
Well, if it was served on a silver platter…
“Do you?” I asked, weaving a comical amount of innuendo into the question. A joke, clearly, because even though flirting came naturally to me, I wasn’t sure what Dean’s lines were.
He raised an eyebrow, his mouth tilting into a thoughtful curve. Water sloshed around us, sand smooth beneath the soles of my feet, sun in my eyes—and suddenly, his hand settled at my waist, light but steady. Oh. “Might as well demonstrate,” he murmured.
I blinked at him.
“For practice,” he added.
My breath caught. Nerves, I told myself, maybe just a hint of want that tangled in my belly. Didn’t mean anything. So I let my lips tug up, eyes locked on his. “Right, I believe you were gonna show me what a real kiss looks like. Gotta say, though—so far? Not impressed.”
A smile twitched around his eyes. “You talk when you’re nervous, don’t you?”
“Nervous—me? You wish.” Except I was too aware of his hand on my waist, the steady warmth in his gaze that held just a hint of challenge.
“If you say so, babe.”
And then he closed the space between us and kissed me—slow, unhurried, thorough.
Jesus, yes. Not a peck, no joke, but fire under my skin that clashed with the water’s cool touch.
His mouth moved against mine with a certainty that drew me in, pulled me under until I barely remembered to stay upright.
I grabbed his shoulder and kissed him back, opened my mouth when he gave my bottom lip a gentle nip.
Radiant orange spun behind my lids. His tongue slid over mine, the taste of saltwater catching between us as he nipped again, sharper.
Something in me sparked awake—competitive and stubbornly playful.
“I like a bit of bite.” I answered with a teasing scrape of my teeth, tugging lightly at his lower lip, daring him to pull away first. He didn’t.
Instead, his fingers tightened on my waist, fingers digging into wet skin for a beat.
His other hand came up, tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck to tilt my head, mouth firm on mine, fierce.
I slid my palm to his chest and further up, a light press against his pulse point to feel his heartbeat fluttering beneath my fingertips.
Just adrenaline—heat, movement, close contact.
But for a dizzy moment, I let myself believe it was more than that.
We pulled apart just enough to break contact, both breathing a little too heavily. His eyes lingered on me, darker now. “Now, that,” he said, low, “is what I call a proper rehearsal kiss.”
I exhaled and shifted my weight against the pull of the ocean, feeling the grit of the sand bite back—tiny edges of broken coral hidden in the softness. Casual. I nodded. “Yeah. Don’t think anyone would doubt us after this.”
“That’s the idea.” His hand dropped from my waist as he moved away, a faint smile curving his mouth like it was really just that easy.
Which—that was our deal. The sooner I remembered, the better.
Charley exploded into the villa like a glamorous home invasion—all expensive perfume, white smile, and a tailored dress that pulled off “island chic” like she’d stepped straight out of a luxury travel ad.
Dean shifted aside to let her in, and I froze midway through folding a T-shirt.
Unpacking had seemed like a safer choice than a nap in the elephant-sized, rose-covered bed that dominated the space.
Now, with Charley’s focus bouncing from me to Dean and back again, I felt like I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar—like I should have been lounging in the pool rather than dealing with a task our butler (what) probably would have done for me.
“Hi,” I said. It came out close to a question.
“Well, hello.” She tilted her head with a grin just this side of smug. “Aren’t you just obscenely lovely? You’ll steal all my thunder in the wedding photos.”
“I, uh.” I fought a blush and spread my arms in something like an apology.
“Really sorry. But one, I doubt it, given you could be on a Vogue cover.” That didn’t seem too flirty, did it?
Making an accidental pass at my fake boyfriend’s sister was absolutely not on my to-do list. “And two, pretty sure my entire outfit costs less than, like, your nail polish.”
Dean gave a soft snort. “Wait until you meet the ‘we summer in Switzerland’ crowd.”
“They’re not that bad,” Charley said—and stopped for a theatrical sigh. “Well, some of them are.”
“You might want to reconsider marrying Theo.” A tiny smile tugged at his mouth, belying his wry tone. “Since he comes with social baggage.”
“Worth it,” Charley said, then laughed and threw herself into Dean’s arms for a fierce hug. He caught her like she weighed nothing, swooped her up, and twirled her once before setting her down again.
“Missed you,” he told her, sounding faintly embarrassed at the admission.
She beamed up at him. “Right back at you.”
It was surprisingly sweet—and very much a side of Dean that I hadn’t seen before.
I kept quiet so they could have their moment, feeling slightly like an outsider.
My family was a lot like this, touchy-feely, big emotions, hugs dished out like they were on some three-for-one deal.
Somehow, I hadn’t expected Dean to be like that with his sister.
“Mom’s just a couple minutes behind, by the way,” Charley continued. She spun to face me. “Which means that it’s time for a little quiz. So. Intentions towards my brother?”
“This is not a court hearing,” Dean said.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” she shot back.
“Okay, right,” I said, because clearly speaking up was the only way to get a word in with these two. “Intentions—do you want the truth or a beautiful lie?”
Not that I’d entirely settled on what the truth was. But hey.
“Lie,” Charley said. “Obviously.”
“Practically ready for a joint mortgage.” I smiled sweetly, glancing at Dean with a coy little dip of my head.
My sister had taught it to me within two weeks of my coming out, claiming that guys went crazy for what she called “the besotted cat look.” Maybe, maybe not, but this was the time to bring my best game. “Tiny problem? I’m broke.”
Charley crossed her arms. “So you’re only into him for the money?”
“Okay, but look, I spend like someone still on a resident’s salary,” Dean offered, and Charley waved for him to shut up.
“Of course not.” I went for my best meet-the-parents smile. “It’s his brilliant mind and gentle heart, even though he hides it like a hedgehog protecting its soft belly.”
“Fuck you, too,” Dean said in a deadpan drawl.
Charley shook her head at him. “Now, is that a way to talk to your future husband?”
Before he could come up with a reply, another knock at the door stalled us.
Must be his mom. Carol. Mrs. Hollis? Shit, I wasn’t even sure if she shared Dean’s last name, if they’d all ditched his biological dad’s surname, if he’d taken his stepfather’s, James, if the mom had chosen to revert to her maiden name or never even dropped it.
A real boyfriend would know this, right?
Fuck—I was unprepared. They’d sniff me out within a minute and put me on the next flight home.
“Hey,” Dean said, suddenly right next to me, our shoulders pressed together. “Relax. It’s just my mom.”
I slid him a glare. “Well, that’s the point.”
“She’ll love you.” He said it like it was self-evident.
“How do you know?”
“She’d be crazy not to.”
I glanced over at him just as Charley pulled open the door—his profile caught against the brightness streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, stubborn chin and strangely delicate lashes. It twisted through my chest, something warm and not entirely welcome.
Then Dean’s mom breezed in.
She had the same eyes as her kids, a radiant kind of blue with keen intelligence shining through, a wide linen dress fluttering around her slightly curvy figure.
Dean drew forward to embrace her, hunching a little to accommodate their difference in height.
I resisted the impulse to slink out of sight.
“Oh, Tay!” she exclaimed as soon as she and Dean separated. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you, love. So glad you could make it.”
I felt abruptly guilty, even as her open delight made it easy to mirror her beaming smile. “Honestly, this is amazing. I’m really grateful I could tag along—heard so many great things about you and Charley, too.”
“What a charmer,” Charley drawled, her wink taking any sting out of the words.
“He sure is.” Dean draped an arm around my middle to bring me forward, and I stumbled at the unexpected contact. Should’ve rehearsed casual touches, too, it seemed. I glossed over it with a small chuckle and offered my hand to his mom.
She pulled me into a warm, easy hug instead, as if I already belonged. Guess I didn’t need to worry after all.
We opened the welcome bottle of champagne and moved out to the terrace for a conversation driven by Charley’s quick wit and Carol’s questions, Dean describing our trip, me offering some commentary and a few tidbits about my own family.
It was followed by Charley diving into a hilarious story about how an opposing counsel once accidentally copied her into a furious email calling her a “smug little cow” and didn’t appreciate her responding with a smiley.
“So, what’s next for you after this year finishes?” Carol asked me at some point. “Have you got a specialty in mind? And will you stay in New York, or is it all still up in the air?”
“Are you fishing, Mom?” Dean asked.
“Can you blame me, love?” She grinned, a hint of impishness to her expression that made it obvious where Charley got it from. Dean, too, at that. “This is the first boy you’ve brought home—of course I want to get to know him better.”
“You want to know if he’ll pack up and leave me come summer,” Dean said, his mouth tipping into an almost shy, off-balance curve. He looked softer here, washed in golden hues as the ocean mirrored the last blush of sunset.
“Not the plan.” I shuffled a little closer to him and hoped it looked natural rather than awkward with a side of uncertain.
“New York’s home for me. Haven’t settled on a specialty yet, though.
Maybe pediatric surgery? I love working with kids, even if it’s tough sometimes. That, or CT surgery like Dean.”
His attention snapped to me, eyes surprised and a little curious.
Right, we hadn’t talked about it even though we really should have—an actual boyfriend would have known this about me.
Charley must have noticed the slip as well because she jumped in quickly, suggesting it was just about time for dinner, and did Dean and I want to change before we left?
“Yeah, just give us a minute,” he said while I nodded and hoped we were actually ready to sell this act in front of a bigger audience.
Well. Only one way to find out.