Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
DAISY
“You’re not made from sugar. You won’t disintegrate from a bit of rain.”
“If I get pneumonia, it’s on you.” Ollie scoffs.
Vanessa rolls her eyes. “You’re not going to get pneumonia from a stroll in the rain. Besides it’s not supposed to start for hours.”
“Finnegan, please explain to your girlfriend that a five-mile hike up hill does not classify as a stroll.”
“You’re supposed to be the athlete here,” she snaps back at him, and he actually looks offended by the comment, but I don’t hear his retort, distracted by my mother’s caller ID lighting up my phone.
I know she’ll keep calling if I don’t pick up, so I slip out onto the back deck and tuck the sliding door closed behind me.
The waves are crashing harder today, wind whipping through my hair as I lean against the railing overlooking the sea and press my phone to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetie. How are you?”
“Good. You?” There’s a crash in the background and the sound of a hurried sorry mom being called out. “Is that Zach?”
She sighs. “Yeah, he’s apparently forgotten our rule of no soccer in the house.”
“Sounds like him.”
“He hasn’t changed a bit.” She chuckles.
“You sound like I’ve been gone for ages. It’s only been a few months.”
“I know, we’re just excited to have you back home.”
“Yeah.” I blink a little extra against the wind, feeling wetness pull in my eyes. “Me too.”
“I was just calling to see if you’re going to make it back in time for the Summer Festival? Your dad is trying to work out the rota and there’s no one to watch the boys.”
I wince.
The annual start of summer festival is a highlight for everyone in Willow Creek, topped off with a fun fair. The whole town shows up along with a few thousand tourists to watch the annual parade, which means all hands on deck for the busiest time of the year at the diner.
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
“Great, we’ll put you down for costume duty again.”
I swallow hard, trying my best to keep my hesitation out of my voice as I muster what little excitement I can for it.
I’ve been on costume duty for the last three years, and while I don’t mind it, it means spending all my time stuck in a tent dealing with crying kids instead of enjoying the festival out front.
At least this year, hiding in the back means I won’t have to pretend I don’t want to be somewhere else.
After a quick catch up on anything I might have missed since our last call, I click off the call and slip back into the hallway. I head for the staircase to the second floor, needing a moment to myself before I face everyone again.
I’m still studying the framed photos in the hallway upstairs when strong arms wrap around me from behind.
I sink back against Connor, reveling in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with fresh ocean air.
He rests his chin on my shoulder, studying the photo of a little girl with pig tails, squeezed in between two gangly teenage versions of Luke and Aiden.
“Where’s everyone?” I ask, hoping that the answer is somewhere far away so I can let him hold me for a little bit.
“Vanessa finally convinced them all to go for that hike.”
“You didn’t join?”
He shakes his head. “You didn’t come back. I wanted to hang around in case something was wrong. Are you snooping?”
“Just looking,” I tell him, ignoring the warmth spreading in my chest at his quiet confession. “How long will the others be?”
“Hopefully a while,” he murmurs. “We could go join them if you want.”
“Or?” I ask, sensing that there’s an add on to his question.
He shrugs, stepping back so I can turn and face him. “Or I could take you into town.”
I raise a brow. “Like a date?”
“We can call it that.” He smiles sheepishly, hooking one finger in the belt loop on my jeans. “Or if you prefer, we can pretend I need your help to find a gift for Sarah’s birthday.”
“Let me get my shoes.”
“Are you going to tell me which option you’re going with?” he calls behind me when I disappear into my room to get my sneakers.
I just wink at him, leading the way down the stairs. He lets out a laugh, that follows me all the way to his car.
Lakeview is a quaint coastal town, with only one street cutting right through the center of it.
Connor parks outside of the Cinnamon Café at the top of it, and we stroll through downtown checking out each store front for a potential gift for Sarah.
I drag him into the bookstore halfway down the street.
“What about this?” I ask, holding up a new release. It’s got a nice watercolor illustration on the front, so I’m guessing it’s a safe bet. Connor flips it over and reads the back.
Reaching the end of the blurb, he frowns before shoving the book back on the shelf. “There is absolutely no way I’m giving my sister that. It’s straight up hockey porn.”
“What’s wrong with smut?”
“There’s nothing wrong with smut, but she’s my sister. Choose any other genre, I’m begging you.” He shudders visibly at the thought, and I can’t help the laugh that ripples through me.
“I like it.” I snatch it back off the shelf, mostly just to tease him.
“Oh really?” He raises a brow, stalking closer to me.
“Hockey players and sex, what’s not to like?” I shrug, stuffing the book into our basket.
“And here I thought you only got hot for a specific hockey player.”
“I’m not picky,” I toss back at him before rounding the shelf to the other side and scanning the books under the cowboy section.
“Minx,” he murmurs, following me. “You and Liv would get along well.”
“Luke’s sister?”
He nods. “She’s always reading that stuff.”
“I bet Luke loves that.” I giggle at the thought.
“It doesn’t really matter what he thinks. She’s almost graduated high school; she can read whatever she wants.”
I arch a brow. “But Sarah can’t read hockey smut?”
He stops in his tracks, eyes narrowing on me when he realizes I have him cornered.
“Fine, but you’re buying it for her,” he groans, and I laugh, handing the basket to him.
I end up pulling a few other options from the non-sport section, just to be on the safe side.
The blurbs all make Connor’s cheeks tint bright red and when I pick up a book with a shirtless man on the cover, he hands me his card and tells me to get whatever I want before he makes a dash for the door.
In the end I settle on a small-town romance with a cute pink cover for Sarah. I buy the hockey book for myself and tell the cashier to wrap both of them up so Connor won’t see.
When I join him on the street, he’s holding two cups of iced coffee. He hands one over to me and takes the bookshop bag with his free hand, then we stroll down the high street.
When Luke texts Connor asking where we are two hours later, we decide it’s time to head back home. Connor holds all of our bags—most of them from the cute little bakery up the street. He only lets go of my hand when we get to his car and he slips our bags into the back seat before turning to me.
Without saying a word, his hand catches my wrist, spinning me around to face him.
As soon as I turn, his lips are on me, his other hand sinking into my hair to pull me closer to him.
It’s soft at first, his lips brushing against mine, seeking permission.
When I sink into his hold, he deepens the kiss.
Somewhere in the back of my mind it registers that he’s kissing me in broad daylight on Lakeview’s main drag, as he guides me backward until I’m against his truck. I don’t care.
“What was that for?” I ask when he pulls away.
“Because I wanted to.” He shrugs, making my heart flutter stupidly in my chest.
His hand on my waist falls away, and he opens the door for me. I’m still catching my breath when I climb in. He shuts it behind me, and I watch him jog around the front of the car, incapable of tearing my focus from him now that he owns it all.
My phone pings in my pocket as Connor pulls away from the café, one hand on the steering wheel the other turning up the song on the radio.
“If that’s Lauren, tell her I haven’t kidnapped you.”
I snort while I dig for my phone. “You kind of did.”
“Are you saying you have Stockholm syndrome?” he asks, arching a brow. The next thing I know he’s singing One Direction at me at the top of his lungs, and I can’t help the laugh raking through me as I pull the phone from my pocket.
I key in my code and check the last message, about to tell Lauren just that—that this guy definitely has me feeling Stockholm syndrome—when I open the text Mom just sent.
Mom
*sent a photo attachment*
Got your ticket - see you soon!
My eyes hook on the date sprawled on the festival ticket, and just like that the flutters come to a crashing halt.