Dean beams. He thinks this conversation is over and is probably ready to move me in at seven a.m. next Saturday, but it’s not happening. I’m sure I can find another option somehow.
I excuse myself and find Brinley on the opposite side of the yard, playing cornhole with her husband, Marston.
“Stella, baby!” Brinley says, wrapping her arms around me and hanging on just enough to tell me she’s not quite sober.
“Somebody’s been drinking,” I say, laughing. “What happened to the no-booze-until-the-vow-renewal diet?”
“I nixed that idea,” Marston says, tossing a beanbag at the target. “She doesn’t need to fit in a smaller dress. She’s perfect the way she is.”
“He thinks I’m perfect,” Brinley stage-whispers, then gives a dreamy sigh.
Marston winks at her. “I know it.”
My heart tugs. They’re so freaking good together. Marston pulls her away from me and into his arms. He smiles down at her, and he sees her. It’s always been that way with them—since they met as teenagers. Marston didn’t see the spoiled little rich girl so many others saw in Brinley. He saw a girl who had her own heartaches and struggles, the girl he loved from that first moment and never stopped loving.
Someday I’m going to find that. But for now, I feel lucky to get one hot night with Kace.
The next three hours drag while I wait for everyone to leave. Normally, I’m the one trying to convince our friends to stay later. I’m the one who doesn’t want to go home and never wants the night to end.
But normally, a naked Kace isn’t waiting for me once all our friends find their way home.
Sure, the potential of me moving into his backyard could make this awkward—but that likely won’t happen. And even if it does, it’d be for a month, maybe two. Surely one night together won’t make that weird.
By eleven, Dean has said his goodbyes, along with Marston, Brinley, Smithy, and Savannah. It’s just Kace, Abbi, and me sitting around the fire. Judging by the awkward glances Kace keeps sending my way when Abbi’s distracted, my chances of getting him naked are falling lower and lower. I blame Dean and his terrible pool house idea.
Cockblocker.
Finally, Abbi stretches her arms over her head and yawns. “I should get going.”
Kace practically jumps out of his chair, ever the smooth criminal. “Sure. Thanks for coming.” He wraps her in a hug and kisses the top of her head. “Call me if you need help with the car tomorrow.”
I frown. “What’s wrong with your car?”
Abbi makes a face. “Nothing. Kace just wants me to get new tires.”
“Your tread’s nonexistent. It literally makes me lose sleep.”
She grins at him. “How do you know I don’t do this intentionally to make up for how much you tormented me growing up?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” he says, hands on his hips. “But seriously. You take it in, or I will.”
She rolls her eyes. “I have an appointment.”
“Good.”
Abbi shoots me a look. “You wanna head out with me, Stella?”
No. I want to jump your brother. I hold up my nearly empty White Claw. “I’m going to stick around and finish this.”
She turns to Kace. “You’ll drive her if she drinks another one?”
I bow my head to hide my flinch. Even my friends don’t trust me to make responsible decisions.
“Of course,” he says, nodding. “Want me to walk you to your car?”
She waves him off. “Nah. I’m fine. See you at Mom’s tomorrow night.”
“Love you,” he calls after her.
“Love you back.” She pushes through the gate, and a few moments later, I hear her car heading down the street.
Kace settles back into his chair and rests his elbows on his knees. When he looks up at me, I already know I should’ve left with Abbi and saved myself the awkward rejection. “About what happened earlier . . .” He searches my face in the light from the fire. “I think maybe it’s good we were interrupted.”
I sigh dramatically. “I wait for twelve years, and all I get is one half-assed make-out session? Figures.” I wink at him, but maintaining my smile is too hard, so I hide it behind my can.
He arches a brow. “Hey now, I wouldn’t call it half-assed.”
“Too short to call it anything else. Unless that’s your . . . style?” I cock my head to the side.
“We already established how much I’d like to take my time with you, Freckles.” He growls and mutters something that sounds like “Fucking Dean.”
I concur but drain my drink and push out of my chair. “Don’t stress, Kace. It would’ve been fun, but I get it. I’m Dean’s little sister, and you’re—”
“It’s not that.” He stands, reaches for me, then drops his hands awkwardly to his sides. “It would be fun. I really would’ve . . .” His smile’s a little crooked and his eyes a little mischievous and ohmygod do I want him. “I think we’d have a good time.”