Kisses In The Sand: Blame It On The Kiss Part 3

"True," Bryce said, "and I guess lifting the seat takes a fraction longer?"

"Lifting it takes a hand, so there's more effort involved."

"True again. And men appreciate it when a woman uses her hand." A s.e.xy little gleam in the corners of his eyes kicked Honor's heart rate up a notch.

The guys chuckled. "Definitely," Danny said, one side of his mouth quirking up.

Sophie harrumphed. "Men need the seat down, too sometimes. Women never need it up."

Honor spewed her coffee across the counter. Everyone else cracked up. Sophie's cheeks flamed red, but Zane pulled her closer and whispered in her ear.

"Okay. Time for everyone to go," Sophie said, scooting all of them up and out. "Thanks for making this such a fun night."

The adorably happy look on Sophie's face filled Honor with a mixture of joy and longing. That second emotion got Honor to take hold of her brother and move faster than everyone else. She grabbed her bag of goodies for winning the scavenger hunt and hauled Coop out the door with a quick "bye" over her shoulder.

"Jeez, H, where's the fire?" Coop asked on their way down the driveway.

"Just hurry up. Did you walk here?" He nodded. "Me, too." As soon as they cleared the corner, she let go of his arm and slowed her steps. Took a quiet, deep inhale, the cool, crisp night air filling her lungs. Winter nights were her favorite.

"Do Mom and Dad know about the agent thing?" she asked. Their parents were celebrating their anniversary with a Sun Princess cruise and had two months left on the trip. They tried to touch base when the s.h.i.+p docked in port.

"Yeah, they'd gotten some calls before they left. Dad's got some hotshot from CAA he wants me to meet with next week."

"I really don't think you're ready for this. Please don't let Dad pressure you into jumping back in too soon." Honor loved her father, but sometimes he pushed Coop a little too hard.

"This isn't about you. It's about me, and I'm making the decision to move forward."

Honor put a hand on his arm to bring them to a stop. Her stomach clenched. For almost two years he'd been fighting his way back, and she'd never been prouder. What was a little more time? "You're too young to make a decision like this on your own. How do you know these guys have your best interest? They see dollar signs and nothing else. At least wait until Dad gets back."

"I can't..." He took a deep breath. "I don't want to wait. I've been practicing non-stop, hitting the gym, and I've dominated the past three tournaments I entered. In the next month I'm getting an agent and announcing I've gone pro."

He'd been a week away from that announcement when he had his accident. Fear clambered up her spine. One wrong landing and he'd never walk again. But her brother had what she never did. Tenacity. And he refused to let one mistake beat him.

She wished she could say the same.

"I'm only looking out for you." She started walking again. With their parents a million miles away, she was responsible for her brother.

"Don't need it." He put an arm around her shoulders and smiled that lopsided grin that made girls fall all over him.

"We'll see." Agents were cutthroat, putting their professional goals above their client's well being. Or so she remembered from two years ago when a few came sniffing around her brother.

"Let's change the subject since I know how much you like to talk about yourself."

"Pfft." Coop was one of only a few people who could get her to share stuff. He didn't judge, didn't call her flighty, and could keep a secret. Unlike the rest of her small hometown.

"You got all sorts of wedding c.r.a.p this weekend?"

"It's not c.r.a.p." She whacked him in the stomach.

"Ow." He fake rubbed his rock hard abs like they hurt. "I can help with the store... after all the wedding c.r.a.p."

Honor rolled her eyes. "That would be great. Thanks." The store was number four on Payton's list. As an event specialist for the mayor's office, Honor kept busy, but not that busy, and she and Pay had tossed around the idea of opening an antique store. They'd both been history majors in college and Honor loved old things-furnis.h.i.+ngs, pottery, gla.s.s, jewelry, movie memorabilia, anything from life in the past. She'd started collecting things as a kid, her eye drawn to items that looked homeless, like they didn't belong. So after Payton pa.s.sed away and Honor saw "open an antique store" on her list, she'd asked her father for a loan to get started.

Occasionally things worked in her favor, and she'd grabbed the small s.p.a.ce on Main Street that became available two months ago. In her free time she'd been working to get it ready.

"I'm crazy good with a paint brush," Cooper said, breaking into her thoughts.

"You're crazy good at everything." She put her arm around his waist and her head on his shoulder as they continued down the sidewalk.

"True. And since I'm helping you, think you could sign my name to your wedding gift for Sophie and Zane?"

"Already did."

"Sweet."

In Cooper language sweet equated to thank you. It also described her brother. He hated hearing it, and much preferred "bada.s.s," but they had each other's backs and in Honor's world that meant sweet.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to their cozy two-bedroom house across the street from the beach. Honor opened the front door and the second they went inside, peace fell over her. Nothing could touch her inside these four walls.

"'Night, H." Cooper headed down the hall to his bedroom.

"'Night." She put her gift bag on the upholstered ottoman that served as a coffee table and plopped down on the chenille sofa, her b.u.t.t so comfy in the soft fabric it wanted to divorce her and marry it. While her brother could walk into his room, climb into bed, and be asleep in under a minute, she needed a few minutes to decompress.

"I'm sorry, Pay," she whispered, thinking back to when she'd kissed Bryce. "Truly sorry."

She'd apologized to Payton more than once over the course of their friends.h.i.+p. They'd fought like sisters, forgave like sisters. But this apology didn't take away the stab of regret. How could it when the impossible attraction she felt for Bryce only intensified every time she saw him.

Suck it up, girl. The next three days were about Sophie and Zane, and she could-would-be the perfect bridesmaid. When the wedding ended, so did her time with the groomsman.

If Bryce became her brother's agent, though... That added another layer of familiarity she didn't like. Not one bit. She didn't want her brother to love him. Didn't want her parents to either. And they would. They all would. Bryce had that something that put everyone at ease and in like with him at h.e.l.lo.

She leaned forward and picked up the Roseville pottery book Payton had given her for her birthday. Thumbing to page one hundred, she carefully slipped out the piece of paper that held Payton's list.

Until tonight, no one else knew about the list. She'd kept it to herself so that when she failed to fulfill all five items, she'd be the only one to know.

When, not if. And it killed her.

She wasn't sure why she'd told Bryce except that it had felt nice to open up to someone who was close to Payton, too. The someone who had made what should have been easy into a tangled mess. Sharing responsibility for the screw-up made her feel a tiny bit better about it. But in the next few weeks-before she turned twenty-five-she'd figure out a way to follow through on her promise.

She tucked the list back inside the pages of the book, hugged the hard cover to her chest, and unfolded herself from the couch. From this moment on, she'd dedicate herself to the list and honoring Payton the best way she knew how. For once, she'd do something right.

Chapter Three.

Friday mornings meant cinnamon-flavored fried dough stuffed with gooey apple chunks and dusted with powdered sugar. Perfection otherwise known as apple fritters. How Rachel, the owner of the Beach Cafe, crammed so much goodness into the tiny breakfast treats, Honor didn't know, but they had to be laced with something addictive because everyone in town craved them.

Honor knew this because a hundred people stood in front of her in line. Okay, not a hundred, but enough to put her on a hungry edge since her fritter need had started well over an hour ago. She held the gla.s.s front door propped open with her foot, the delicious smell of baked bliss wafting to her nose before it drifted right out into the cool, misty air.

She also needed coffee.

Dreams of her misdeed with Bryce had interfered with all her good sleep. Leaving bad sleep. And bad feelings. She covered a yawn with her hand.

Someone waving his arm caught her attention above her fingertips.

There was a G.o.d.

She moved toward the front of the line, saying h.e.l.lo to everyone she pa.s.sed, pausing for a second to give white-haired Mr. Case, owner of the building housing her new shop, a kiss on the cheek. She reached her favorite old guy right after that. "Uncle Tuck, hi."

"h.e.l.lo, Suns.h.i.+ne. Thought I'd buy you breakfast." He wrapped her in a hug that made her feel six years old all over again. She hung on a little longer than necessary.

"Thank you. Good surf this morning?" His board shorts were damp and his hair smelled like salt.w.a.ter. Tucker Mitch.e.l.l had been one of the best pro surfers once upon a time.

"Not bad. Kicked a few of the young guys' keesters."

"I'm sure you did." Her great uncle still did aerial maneuvers that drew gasps from beachgoers.

They stepped to the counter where she ordered large everything. Seemed like a good idea considering the full day ahead. Sophie's parents and extended family were arriving later this morning, and Honor had offered to make sure everyone got settled into the White Strand Cove Inn. Then the bridesmaids had a date to pick up their dresses before everyone gathered for the rehearsal dinner.

"I hear there's a wedding this weekend," Tuck said, handing over a bag of fritters and her mountain roast coffee as they stepped away from the counter. "You still aiming to dodge that bullet?"

"You know how I feel about those bullets." Tuck wore bachelor like a badge of honor. He'd been engaged once, but the morning of the big day he'd called it off. Blamed his fickle heart and thought his fiancee deserved better. Honor understood the feeling.

He pulled on her ponytail. "Don't let your mother hear that."

"You're the only one who hears it." She took a sip from her cup. "This is perfect. Thank you."

"You're the only chick I know who drinks her coffee black."

"Why mess with a good thing?"

"Nicely said, Padawan. You got time to sit?" He nodded to a table in the corner.

Honor opened her white paper bag and breathed in the sweet perfection. "I wish I did, but I've got to run to the shop and then do a bunch of wedding stuff."

"h.e.l.lo, Tucker," Mrs. Landry said with a saucy ring in her voice. She gave a kind, genuine smile to Honor as she scooted past them.

"Morning, Evie." He reached out with his arm and...

"You did not just pinch Widow Landry's b.u.t.t," Honor said, wis.h.i.+ng she could unsee the deed. Everyone in town knew the two of them had a thing for each other, but jeez....

"You're right, I didn't. More like squeezed." The corners of his thin, weathered lips lifted high enough to reach his pale blue eyes.

"TMI, Uncle Tuck." She kissed his cheek. "Thanks for breakfast. Love you."

"Don't be a stranger," he called as she hurried out the door of the cafe and down the palm tree lined street.

She slowed her steps to enjoy the quiet morning and pulled her first fritter from the bag. Still early, the shops were silent, and she gazed into the windows as she walked and ate. She crossed over Bluff, glancing south to the sea, dustings of suns.h.i.+ne sparkling off the water a few blocks away.

Two more fritters, another block. The sun grew more insistent. A car horn sounded, drawing her attention to the street. Dylan, Cooper's best friend, waved from his beat-up convertible and shouted, "Hey, Honorlicious."

"Hey, Dylan. Keep your eyes on the road."

He saluted and she turned to watch him drive off. Duct tape covered his right taillight and a black and white "Be Excellent to Each Other" b.u.mper sticker with a picture of Abe Lincoln helped hide chipped paint. She smiled, dug out another fritter, this one loaded with powdered sugar, and whirled back around.

Where she collided with a hard chest, inhaled the powdered sugar, and proceeded to cough in a fit of chokehold proportions.

One big, warm hand wrapped around her upper arm. A second hand patted her back. He said something, but she couldn't make it out since she was about to hack up a lung. She knew his voice, though. And his delicious smell. His hands stayed put until she finally quieted down.

Through watery eyes, she glanced up at her roadblock. His gray T-s.h.i.+rt had coffee stains splattered across it. And... she sucked in her bottom lip... fan-fritter-tastic, she'd spit up on him, too.

She moved her almost-empty coffee cup to her other hand and wiped away the evidence of her spew. Mortified and at a loss for words, she kept right on rubbing his chest like a total lunatic.

And because he had a really nice chest. It distracted her from the apology that finally landed on the tip of her tongue.

"You done?" Bryce's deep, s.e.xy voice brought her back to her senses. What the heck was she doing?

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention. I'll buy you a new s.h.i.+rt, or clean this one." She finally met his amused, and also very amiable, eyes. "Fritter?" She held up the bag.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I was reading a text and not watching where I was walking. You okay?"

"Yes."

They stared at each other for several super-charged seconds before he took the bag and looked inside. "There's only one left."

"It's all yours." No way did she plan to put any more fritter near her mouth.

He pulled the baked treat out and took a bite. She watched him like he'd been coated in powdered sugar, too, and she wanted to lick it off him. Not good. Sooo not good. She looked away, reminding herself she was behaving like the worst kind of friend.

He finished it off, crinkled the bag into a ball, and said, "Thanks."

"Sure. I, uh, guess I'll see you later at the rehearsal dinner." She stepped around him. "Have a good day."

She'd pa.s.sed three stores when she felt him come up beside her. He'd either taken the minute to watch her backside or decide if he wanted more of her company. Both could only lead to trouble.

"Where you headed?" he asked.

She cringed and thought about changing directions. Unpacked boxes and a mess of inventory cluttered the antique store, and besides that, Honor liked to keep quiet about it. But since Bryce already knew about the list, she said. "To my antique store."

"Does it have something to do with Payton's list?"

Her heart hurried its beat. "Yes, but here's the thing." She tossed her coffee cup into a trashcan. "No one knows about the list. People in town know Pay and I wanted to go into business together, and I've told everyone this is to honor that dream. But if you could keep the whole list thing to yourself, I'd really appreciate it."

"My lips are sealed."