But Nick was seeing red. “It’s fine.”
“No, Nick, come on.” Fran yanked on his hand. “Please.”
Nick blew out a long, slow breath. “Fran…”
She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Come on. We’re walking.”
He resisted for a few seconds, then let her lead him away from the fire, the crowd around the bonfire, and Lane. After ten minutes of walking, he said, “All I want is to walk.” He cleared his throat, hoping he’d sound less like an asshole. “Not…that. What he thought.”
“That guy really gets to you.” She threaded her fingers with his.
He nodded.
“Because he’s a jerk?” She paused. “Or because of Diana?”
He stopped walking then. “What?”
“You seem sort of really hung up on her,” she whispered.
“No. God, no. We grew up together.” He shook his head. He frowned, unable to think about Di that way. “More like the pain-in-the-ass sister I never wanted sort of thing.” All true. He didn’t want to think of her that way…so why did he? Dammit. Because unlike Honor, she didn’t have someone looking out for her. And, clearly, she needed someone looking out for her. And, for some reason, he felt like he was that person. Fuck. “She’s a screwup. She and her dad have had a rough time. I don’t get why she wants to make it worse.” Didn’t he though? He hadn’t exactly been easy on his mother.
“That’s all?” Fran stared up at him.
She was seriously gorgeous. “That. Is. All.” Maybe she didn’t get how into her he was?
“Okay.” She was smiling. “I’m glad.”
Now who’s the asshole. He tugged her close. “Believe me. You’re the reason I’m out walking in the dark. Your bikini?” He shook his head. “Seriously dangerous.”
She was smiling. “You like it?”
“I like you, Fran.” He swallowed. “And, yeah, maybe the bikini, too.”
“Good.” She rested her head against his chest. “For the record, I didn’t think you wanted to, you know, out here. I was freaking out because my bikini strap broke. That’s why I had to put on my coverup. And fast.” She tugged the fabric down, drawing his attention to her broken strap.
Nick swallowed hard. “Oh.” So much for walking it off. He adjusted his towel, very thankful for her cover-up, his towel, and that his girlfriend was pretty awesome.
Chapter Eighteen
Graham unzipped the suitcase and pulled out the smaller one inside. “These two should work. Need anything else?” he asked, sitting on the couch to go through the inside pockets.
Diana’s hands rested on the back of his chair as she leaned forward over his shoulder. “Perfect.”
He smiled at her. “I’m glad. Looking forward to the trip?”
“I hope Felicity changes her mind.” She pushed off the chair.
He didn’t say anything. He’d told her Felicity had been touched by the offer but that there was too much happening for them to join them. Which was the truth. I wish she’d change her mind, too.
After last night, everything was different. Before midnight, he’d reluctantly slipped from her bed. She hadn’t made it easy on him—her kisses almost changed his mind. Instead of hurrying from the house, he’d stood watching her—smiling when she sleepily told him to be careful driving home—wondering what a future with her would look like. Wondering if it could be as good as he imagined it to be. He’d pressed a final kiss to
her forehead, peeked in on Jack, and left the house—tripping over Pecan on the way out.
As appealing as the idea of them all vacationing together was, he wouldn’t push. Felicity’s devotion to her children was fundamental to who she was. He’d never push her to go against that. Not that he’d walked away. He’d never be able to walk away from her, not if she needed him. Last night was incredible, and he had no regrets, but he knew better than to think that what happened would take precedence over her kids. When things with Nick and Jack and Diana had settled, they’d find a way to make time for each other. When, not if. Until then, the chances of last night happening again anytime soon were slim.
“You look tired,” Diana said. “Didn’t sleep well?”
He shrugged. “Did you have fun last night?” he asked, hoping to steer conversation into neutral waters.