JAKE
“Pinch me.”
She shifts against my chest to look up at me. “Pinch you?”
“Yeah. Pinch me.”
Her eyes narrow suspiciously like she’s trying to determine whether this is a trap. Then she lifts one hand from where it’s spread warm against my ribs and pinches me just hard enough to sting.
“Ow. You got entirely too much pleasure out of that,” I tell her.
“You’re not suffering. You had plenty of pleasure this morning.” Her laugh vibrates against my chest, and I grin up at the ceiling.
Sunrise spills through the windows. I can hear water lapping against the pilings through the screens.
Hank’s still asleep in the living room, snoring loud enough to qualify as machinery.
The sheets are twisted around our legs. Mo’s hair is spread over my pillow and shoulder, and my arm’s gone numb underneath her.
Best morning of my life.
I still can’t quite believe I woke up with Emory Donovan curled against me in my bed.
Hence the pinch.
Just making sure I’m not dreaming.
I’m not.
Though honestly this still feels close to one.
Psskt.
She lifts her head and squints toward the nightstand. “You really need to change your text tone.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“A beer opening at six in the morning is…” She makes a face. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s not right.”
I run a hand slowly down her bare back. “What would you prefer to hear at six in the morning?”
“Bacon sizzling.”
I look down at her. “You hungry?”
“Always.”
“Good. I can do bacon.”
I ease out from under her, and she makes a sleepy little noise before stealing my pillow. I drag on a pair of shorts and head toward the kitchen while she cocoons herself deeper into the sheets behind me.
Hank lifts his head from the couch. His foot starts thumping when he sees me awake. Then he stretches all four legs straight out in front of himself and groans like he just worked a double shift down at the docks. “Morning, buddy.”
He yawns so wide I can practically see all the way to yesterday, then drops his head back onto the couch with dramatic exhaustion.
“Still sleepy?”
He snorts.
From the bedroom, Mo calls, “Jake your phone is getting drunk.”
I laugh and pull bacon from the fridge. “See who it is.”
I hear sheets rustle.
“Oh.”
I glance toward the hallway. “What?”
“Someone named…” Pause. “The Pumper.”
I laugh. “That’s Charlie.”
“It says to open your door. And he just sent another one that says prepare yourself because the town is buzzing with excitement.”
Of course it is.
In Blue Crab Bay, privacy lasts about four minutes.
“I’m using your ‘of course’ line now,” I call back.
“You don’t have to shout,” she says.
I turn. She’s standing behind me wrapped in nothing but a white sheet she’s holding closed in front of her. Hair mussed. Bare shoulders.
Absolutely devastating.
“What line?” she asks.
I completely lose track of the conversation. “I don’t remember,” I say slowly. “Because right now all I can think about is you standing there with nothing but a sheet around you.”
She grins. “Oh yeah.”
“Ohhh yeah.”
Then she opens the sheet and flashes me.
I barely have time to react before she squeals laughing and spins to run. “I may not have been a linebacker,” I call after her, “but I still know how to tackle.”
She squeals. “Jake Wheeler—EEP!”
I catch her around the waist before she makes it to the bedroom and haul her back against me. She laughs so hard she can barely breathe, head falling against my shoulder while I hold her there.
Breakfast gets delayed.
Eventually, we make it back to the kitchen. She’s perched barefoot on one of the counter stools, wearing my tee shirt and nothing else that I can see. She’s stirring cream into coffee she found herself because she’s been in this kitchen a hundred times before.
Just not like this.
Something about that hits me harder than it probably should.
“How would you like your eggs?” I ask.
“Scrambled.”
I set the skillet on the burner. “Still like your bacon crispy?”
She glances up. That soft surprised look gets me every time. “You remembered.”
I meet her eyes. “Mo. I never stopped.”
The kitchen goes quiet except for the hiss of bacon hitting the pan. She clears her throat and tucks her hair behind one ear. “Did you ever see what Charlie left at the door?”
“No. I got distracted by a flasher.”
She smiles into her coffee. “I’ll go check.” She hops off the stool and heads for the front door.
I hear it open. Then a groan.
That’s never good. “What?” I call.
She reappears holding two Tall Tales cups.
“Coffee?” I ask hopefully.
“Messages.”
She sets them on the counter. One says:
THE LONGER THE WAIT
THE SWEETER THE KISS
The other:
SCORE
I rub a hand over my face.
“There’s more.” She disappears again and comes back carrying a basket. Biscuits. Jam. Bananas. Coffee beans. Electrolyte packets. She unfolds the note tucked inside and starts laughing.
“Do I want to know?”
“Probably not.”
“Tell me.”
She clears her throat dramatically.
“Congratulations on the touchdown.”
I close my eyes. “Oh God.”
She keeps reading.
“Breakfast for champions.
Hydrate. Pace yourselves.”
“Who sent it?”
She flips the card over.
Signed: The Huddle
She looks up. “Who’s The Huddle?”
“Our group chat. Me, Wayne, and Ryan.”
“I expected something more locker room and less sports documentary.”
“If we let Wayne name it, at least one word would’ve gotten us put on a watch list.”
She laughs and leans her elbows on the counter while I flip bacon. “Did you know Bethany has a thing for Wayne?”
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“She hates Wayne.”
“Maybe it’s a pigtails situation.”
I look over at her. “Do I wanna know what that means?”
“You know. Kids on the playground pretending they hate each other when they actually like each other.”
“I have never heard that phrase in my life.”
“Well, Ainsley and Lainey are convinced.”
“Bethany’s hated him for years.”
“They’ve known each other that long?”
I crack eggs into a bowl. “Bethany’s known Wayne longer than me.”
“How is that possible?”
“Wayne was already on the team when I joined.”
“Sorry Roy Rogers, still not computing.”
I laugh. “I think you mean danger Will Robinson.”
“Whatever. Spill it.”
“Bethany was security for the agency contracted with the team. She’d been working as a bodyguard for a few years before I was drafted, and she was assigned to me.”
Silence.
When I glance up, Mo’s staring at me like I just told her Hank used to run security too.
“What?”
“Jake Wheeler. Bethany was your bodyguard.”
“She was.”
Mo shakes her head slowly. “That makes so much sense now.”
“What?”
“It explains why she takes absolutely no bullshit from anybody.”
I laugh. “Especially Wayne.”
“Or maybe she protesteth too much.”
“Between my friends, Wayne’s the last guy I’d expect her to end up with.”
Mo smiles into her coffee cup. “Don’t be so sure.”
We eat at the counter.
It’s probably the best breakfast I’ve ever had.
Because she’s here.
Barefoot in my kitchen. Stealing bacon off my plate.
Hank wedges himself between our stools and stares up at us with intense emotional suffering until Mo gives him a piece of biscuit.
“Uh-huh,” I say. “I saw that.”
She shrugs innocently like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Then she sighs and wraps both hands around her mug. “I suppose it’s time to face the music.”
“What music?”
“Granny.”
“Ah.”
“Yes,” she says grimly. “Granny music. Which is somehow worse than regular music.”
I huff out a laugh. “Can I walk you home?”
“I’d like that. A lot.”
So we harness Hank. He rejects two bandanas before settling on the light blue one. “Feeling simple today?” I ask him. He stares at me, wondering why I’m questioning his decision. Fair enough.
The three of us head out into the morning.
The air’s already warm, but there’s something different underneath it. Like fall’s somewhere offshore thinking about making an entrance. The salt smell is especially heavy this morning. Good.
Ahead, Walt’s outside Tall Tales, cranking open patio umbrellas. Willard’s on his bench feeding Chip peanuts one at a time. Otherwise it’s quiet. Suspiciously quiet.
Which means we’ve got maybe thirty seconds.
Miss Hattie is wheeling The Salty Dog cart toward The Green when she spots us.
“Well, well, well,” she crows. “Look who finally turned a walk of shame into a parade.”
Mo closes her eyes briefly and mumbles something I wisely pretend not to hear.
“Good morning, Miss Hattie.”
“Is it?” she asks brightly. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like a spectacular morning.”
Hank snorts.
“Even the dog agrees.”
We keep moving. We round the corner by Tall Tales, and the commentary starts flying.
“About time.”
“Knew it!”
“I had fifteen bucks on this week!”
“You still owe me from the lighthouse.”
“Somebody tell Maddy she wins the pool.”
Mo stops walking. “There was a pool?”
From halfway across The Green, Miss Hattie yells, “There are always pools, honey!”
At Lazy Larry’s, Meredith rings the bell over the counter the instant she sees us. “Larry is so lazy—“ The crowd outside shouts back, “HOW LAZY IS HE?”
Meredith points directly at me. “He’s so lazy, he heard Jake finally got lucky and didn’t even light his cigarette.” The crowd erupts.
Mo stops dead in the middle of the shell path and covers her face with both hands.
I start laughing because honestly what else are you supposed to do at that point?
A man near the window yells, “Worth it, Wheeler?”
I don’t even break stride. “Yes.” That gets an even louder reaction.
Mo peeks at me through her fingers. “You are enjoying this entirely too much.”
I glance over at her. Sunlight in her hair. Still wearing my tee shirt.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and kiss the side of her head. “I’m enjoying you being here entirely too much.”
Before she can say anything, Mrs. Kravitz appears out of nowhere.
And circles us.
I stop walking. “Mrs. Kravitz.”
She holds up one finger. “I’m assessing.”
“For what?” Mo asks cautiously.
“Afterglow,” she says matter-of-factly.
Mo looks at me with an expression that very clearly translates to please kill me now.
Mrs. Kravitz narrows her eyes at both of us, takes a picture, then scribbles something in her notebook.
“What did you write?” I ask.
“Confidential.”
“You’re going to post it in the chat anyway.”
“That doesn’t make my methods any less proprietary.”
Then she looks at Mo. “You look happy, honey.”
She turns to me next. “So do you.”
Then she gives us a cheerful “toot toot” and marches off toward Tall Tales like she’s completed official civic business.
Mo watches her go. “That was unsettling.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And weirdly sweet.”
“Also mm-hmm.”
We’re almost to Holey Moley when Charlie appears in uniform holding coffee and wearing a Cheshire Cat grin he’s trying very badly not to wear. “Morning,” he says.
“Charlie.”
He looks at Mo. Looks at me. Looks at Hank. Then back at me. “I’m good,” I tell him before he can ask.
He nods once and claps my shoulder. “Thought so.”
Then he looks at Mo. “Later, Emory.”
“Later, Charlie.”
Psskt.
I glance down at my phone.
Wayne: The body language
Wayne: The post coital ease
Wayne: The no space bubble
Wayne: The radiance
I immediately start scanning The Point. “What are you looking for?” Mo asks.
“Trying to see if Wayne’s lurking in the bushes somewhere.”
Psskt.
Ryan: Please don’t say post-coital.
Wayne: I will not apologize for documenting history
Ryan: Jake, you good?
Where are you, Wayne? Ryan I’m great.
Ryan: Good.
Wayne: Training room
Why are you describing our body language?
Wayne: Gladys posted a video in the town group chat
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter.
“What?”
“I was wondering how Wayne and Ryan knew and got a basket to us so early.” I slide my phone back into my pocket. “Mystery solved. Wayne’s in the town group chat.”
“Joy.”
We walk into Holey Moley and hit a wall of people. “Now we know why The Point was so quiet,” I whisper to Mo.
Maddy’s on a stool with her cast propped out in front of her.
Miss Hattie’s somehow beside her despite last seeing her heading for The Green.
Mrs. Kravitz is there too. Frank. Humphrey in his usual corner.
Three women who claim gossip is “the devil’s radio” while actively leaning closer to hear better.
Maddy looks at me. Looks at Mo. Looks at our joined hands. Then she smiles. “Well.” She smiles. “Finally.”
The bakery murmurs in approval like a town council passing a charter amendment.
Mo lets go of my hand and plants it on her hip. “I’m thirty years old and I stayed the night at Jake’s, and it does not need to become a community event.”
The place erupts in cheers anyway. Loud delighted chaos from people who’ve been watching, wanting, and waiting for years.
Mrs. Kravitz claps. Miss Hattie lets out a full whoop. Frank raises a powdered doughnut in silent support. Humphrey hmphs approvingly.
Mo points at all of them. “Every single one of you needs a hobby.”
Miss Hattie cackles. “Honey, you are the hobby.”
That breaks her. Mo starts laughing so hard her shoulders shake. And watching her standing there laughing in the middle of Holey Moley with half the town celebrating around us—
something inside me finally settles.
Relief.
I’ve wanted this for so long I forgot it could actually happen.
Hank starts hopping in excited circles, arfing because everyone else is excited, and that seems reason enough for him.
I step up behind her. “You okay?” I ask quietly near her ear.
She turns her head toward me. “I think so.”
I brush a strand of hair away from her cheek and kiss her there.
Her fingers hook absentmindedly into the waistband of my shorts before she realizes what she’s doing.
I definitely realize.
Her voice softens. “I liked waking up with you.”
That lands right in the center of me. “I liked waking up with you too.” Then I lean down and kiss her again. This time on the lips.
Not long.
Not for the town.
Just for her.