Unconditional

“That’s brave,” I say, struck with awe at his sense of duty and service.

He gives me a lopsided smile. “Nah. I’m not saying it was a picnic over there, but I was lucky. Some guys, well let’s just say, they weren’t.”

I squeeze his hand.

“Man, if I’m going to answer all these questions, I’m going to need breakfast,” Garrett says, looking away.

I wonder if I’ve made a mistake, pushing him for personal information. “Breakfast? It’s like two in the morning.” I keep my voice light.

“Exactly,” he grins. “Anything after midnight is fair game. Come on,” he gets up, offering his hand. I take it, rising from the piano stool. He leads me to the kitchen and starts rifling through cabinets. “I’m going to fix you my waffles. They make women swoon.”

I feel a rush of relief. “So that’s the secret to your success, hmm?” I pretend to tease him.

“That and my dashing good looks, and super-hero skills in the bedroom.” Garrett winks.

“And when do those kick in?” I say sweetly.

“Hey!” Garrett catches me against him, spinning me back against the fridge. I gasp as the cool metal hits my na**d back—and the feel of Garrett’s body, pressed hotly against the length of me. “What was that you were saying?” he murmurs, kissing down my neck. I shudder, squirming in his arms.

“Just that these better be really good waffles,” I joke, even as the heat floods through my body. Garrett’s hands slide over my ribcage, grazing the swell of my br**sts and sending sparks rippling across my skin.

He lifts his head, kissing my mouth with a new hunger as our bodies meld, rising to fit each other as if they were made that way.

“Breakfast can wait.”

22

“Did you post the flyers down by the harbor?” I ask, worried. It’s Friday night, dangerously close to show time, and the bar is still half-empty. My grand plans for revitalizing business at the bar look set to fail before they even begin.

“Yes, ma’am.” Garrett winks at me. “I gave a couple of kids ten bucks and a hundred copies. They’ve papered halfway to Terranceville by now.”

“So where is everyone?” I rearrange salt shakers nervously.

“They’ll be here when they’ll be here.” Garrett shrugs.

I don’t understand how he can be so calm. It’s the big night, I’ve been planning all week for it, and now that it’s here, I want desperately for everything to go well. “I’ll check the billboard is up,” I say, slipping down from my stool. “You probably put it up backwards or something.”

“Easy there.” Garrett steps out from behind the bar, catching my wrist and tugging me against him. “Are you saying I don’t know my left from right?”

My heart catches to be in his arms again. Garrett’s eyes twinkle down at me, teasing. “You’re forgetting, I’m pretty good with directions,” he murmurs, dipping to brush his lips against my ears. “More, harder, now…”

I blush furiously. Garrett chuckles.

“You’re cute when you go all red like that. Reminds me how you look when I’m f**king your brains out.”

His voice is still a whisper, but I gasp for air, scandalized. Around us, people sit at tables or lounge at the bar. And all the while, Garrett’s hand slides possessively over my ass, his wicked words sending a molten thrill straight to my core.

“I could take a break,” he murmurs, his eyes flashing suggestively. “You could meet me out back and—” Suddenly, Garrett releases me and steps away. “Hey guys,” he calls brightly over my head. “What’s up?”

I turn, still unsteady. It’s Brit and Hunter, strolling over to us. She’s wearing a cute dress like the one that girl at the baby shower had on, with boots and her hair curled in cute ringlets that fall around her darkly lined eyes. She gives me one of her narrowed stares, then hops up on a barstool. “Finally, Beachwood gets a hot night out.” She winks at Garrett. “They’ll be trashing the B&B and brawling in the streets in no time.”

He laughs. “Right now, I’d settle for a full tab.” Garrett slips behind the bar again and grabs them a couple of beers. “Thanks for coming out.”

Hunter looks around at the makeshift stage area. “Looks great, man. I hear you’ve got some hotshot lined up to play.”

“Yup.” Garrett makes a face. “But it doesn’t look like we’ll have much of an audience.”

“They’ll come,” I say, wishing I could feel as confident as I sound. “But where is this guy? He said he’d be here by eight.”

“It’s only a quarter to,” Hunter points out.

“I’ll check that billboard,” I say again. I look to Garrett for reassurance, but he’s off serving another customer now. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Brit and Hunter, distracted.

“Take your time,” Brit says sweetly.

I stifle a sigh as I walk away. I understand that she’s Juliet’s sister-in-law, and that she thinks I’m just a heartless bitch, but I know that Brit means the world to Garrett, and I just wish she’d drop the attitude long enough to give me a chance.

I head out front, checking the sign advertising the live performer, and making sure the ticker tape I hung from the windows upstairs hasn’t gotten tangled in the wind. It looks great, and as I adjust everything, a couple of cars pull into the lot with a group of college kids.