“Try me.”
He dropped his voice to a whisper and purposely hesitated between each word. “It’s…called…toss…the…bottle…cap…into…the…pot…right…there….” He pointed to the pot.
Trying to ignore how sexy his voice sounded when he whispered, Emily playfully nudged his arm. “Wow, you’re truly a wiseass, huh?”
“Yes, in every possible way,” he laughed and handed her a couple of caps. “You go first.”
Barely being able to see, Emily crinkled her nose as she tried to focus on the pot. She tossed the first one and missed by at least five feet. They both laughed. When it was Gavin’s turn, he closed his eyes and sank it right in.
“I’m just assuming here, so I apologize if I’m wrong, but I’m thinking you’ve played this game more than once,” she remarked.
“Why, I’ve only played it twice, of course,” he laughed.
Emily threw another and missed by only a foot this time. “Twice, my ass. There has to be five-hundred bottle caps in that thing.”
Gavin shot her a wry smile. “Close but no cigar. It’s actually over a thousand.”
“Drink much?”
“Many summers, many parties, many friends equals a huge bottle-cap collection, Miss.”
She shook her head and laughed. “Speaking of collections, I noticed the many vehicles you have parked in your driveway.” She took a swig of her beer. “A motorcycle, a BMW, a Bentley, and I don’t know the name of the other.”
He smiled. “It’s a Nissan GT-R.”
“Yes, a Nissan GT-R,” she laughed. “Boys and their many toys.”
Rubbing at his chin, he gazed deep into her eyes for a second. “Don’t we all have to fill voids in our lives with something?”
Taken aback, Emily searched his face, not knowing how to answer.
He flashed a smile and casually tossed another cap into the pot.
She could tell there was more behind his question than she could possibly understand. The first thing that popped into her mind was an onion. Gavin Blake had many layers to him that needed to be peeled. Some that were there were true to their form, but others were simply a cast-iron veneer she felt he wore around himself.
After several hit and missed thrown caps and much-needed laughter, Gavin looked at his watch and noticed it was past three in the morning. Standing up, he offered Emily his hand, and she accepted.
His voice slid through the air like the finest cashmere. “Even though our evening started off a little…sad, I had a great time with you, Emily,” he stated softly, focusing his intense eyes on hers.
She could feel the stroke of his heated gaze on her, warming her inside and out. She slowly pulled her hand from his and cupped the back of her neck as she stared up into his eyes. “I did, too, Gavin.”
He smiled, walked away, and opened the French doors that led to his bedroom, but not before he turned to look at her one last time.
Nervously biting her lip, she followed suit and made her way into the room where Dillon lay sleeping.
Still snoring.
As she closed the doors behind her, Emily leaned herself against them, panicky and once again breathless. Sliding her fingers down her neck, she tried to rationalize the visceral pull that Gavin had over her, but she was too tired at that point to even begin to understand it.
Chapter Six
Fireworks
A knock against the door and a low groan from Dillon registered somewhere in the back of Emily’s sleeping brain. Forcing one eye open, she was able to make out Trevor poking his head into the room.
“Fuck,” Dillon shouted gruffly. “What the hell time is it?”
“It’s time to get our fishing on,” Trevor answered a little too cheerfully.
Dillon ran a palm over his face, shot Trevor a hard look, and lifted his head gingerly in Emily’s direction. “Are you getting up?”
Peering at the clock through hooded lids to see it was only seven, Emily curled the duvet cover tightly around her body. “No…I’m not,” she moaned out and rolled over. “Just get in the shower, and I’ll get up in a while.”
Cursing in frustration from the early morning wake up, Dillon slid from the bed and reluctantly padded to the bathroom.
Emily heard the door snap shut with Trevor’s departure. Sunlight filtering into the room in stages threatened to wake her further as she nuzzled herself cozily into the crook of her arm. With a deep breath, her nose inhaled the heavenly intoxicating, mind-numbing smell that was Gavin as she tried to fall back to sleep.
Gavin? What the?
Realizing she was still wearing his sweatshirt, she shot straight up in a sitting position. In half a heartbeat, she yanked it off, jumped from the bed, and haphazardly shoved it into a nightstand drawer.
With trembling fingers, she rubbed her eyes and tried to rid her mind of what Dillon’s reaction would’ve been had he caught her packaged neatly in his friend’s sweatshirt. After a few minutes, the unexpected anxiety that made her heart race began to ebb, and with a sigh, she settled into the bed, but found she was unable to fall back to sleep.
Still groaning in agonized distress, Dillon came out of the bathroom. Emily could see he looked tired, pale, and haggard. After she tried to soothe him with a massage, she dropped a kiss on his cheek and decided to jump in the shower, too. When she re-emerged, she found him sprawled out on the bed in a T-shirt and cargo shorts with the crease of his elbow shading his eyes.
“What are your plans while I’m fishing?” he asked, his voice low and garbled.
“I’m going to hang with Liv and Tina until they leave,” she replied, plugging her hair dryer into an outlet. “They’re heading back to the city later to spend the day at Tina’s family’s house.”
Letting out a grumble from the back of his throat, he stood up on shaky legs and sauntered out of the room. By the time Emily treaded downstairs, it was a quarter past eight. Dillon was sitting at the kitchen island with his head hidden between his folded arms as he mumbled to himself.
Gavin smiled at Emily over his newspaper. As it did every time she walked into a room, his whole body went on alert. He felt his blood begin to pump faster as she made her way to the kitchen island. The silky white material of her sundress gliding along her thighs and contrasting against her perfectly olive-toned skin made him nearly speechless.
Gavin cleared his throat. “He’s making promises of never allowing whiskey into his system again if the drinking gods help him get through the day,” he laughed and took a sip of his coffee. “He was never one to handle his liquor that well.”
Although muffled from his arms, the words were clear and to the point. “Fuck off, Gavin,” Dillon hissed.
Gavin chuckled and looked over to Emily. “Want some coffee?”
“Yeah, that sounds awesome. Thank you,” she laughed and took a seat next to Dillon.
“You’re very welcome.” Gavin stood up, pulled a mug from a cabinet, poured some coffee in it, and made his way to the refrigerator. Peering at Emily over his shoulder, his smile was soft and curled with knowledge. “Just a guess, of course, but you look like a girl who takes cream and sugar in your coffee.”
Her mouth fell open and then snapped shut. Shaking her head, she smiled at him.
Gavin quirked a mischievous brow and walked back over with the mug. As she went to take it from him, he reached out for her hand and gently slipped something into it.
Her eyes flicked over to Dillon where he was still hiding from the light of day.
Gavin set the coffee in front of her and took his seat.
Opening the palm of her hand, Emily glanced down to what she was holding—a bottle cap. Her gaze slid over to Gavin where he sat casually sipping his coffee, newspaper in hand, with a faint smile on his lips.