probably the only available table.”
“Uh-huh. Then why did you have Amanda bring him his food?” Jillian said, referencing the third waitress. “Avoiding the great and sexy rich boy again?”
“For one, he’s not so great. And I don’t think he’s sexy. At all.” Someone should really deliver that message to her hormones. They’d been buzzing ever since he’d touched her. One touch, one hand on her wrist, and Darcy had been fantasizing about Kincaid for the rest of her shift.
It was because it had been a long time since she’d had sex. That was all. It wasn’t that the sex with Kincaid had been awesome—okay, so yes, it had been the best sex she’d ever had—it was merely that her vagina wasn’t as smart as her head. She needed to think with her brain, not anything south of her neck.
Darcy bent over and started scrubbing the table in furious circles. “I don’t care about Kincaid Foster. All he did was annoy me tonight.”
Jillian put a hand over Darcy’s. “You’re going to wear a hole in that. Let me finish for you. And you go to Pammy’s bonfire.”
“I’ve got Emma—”
“I’ll go over there and let Nona go home. The munchkin is long overdue for a sleepover with Aunt Jillian anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
Jillian put a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “You deserve to have a good time once in a while. You’re either working or taking care of Emma. You somehow exist on like three hours of a sleep a day. So yes, I’m sure. You go have fun.”
The thought of hanging out with friends, enjoying a few laughs and a couple beers, sounded like heaven. Jillian was right. It had been ages since Darcy had done that. Maybe then she’d stop focusing on Kincaid and wondering where he was—and when he was going to leave. She could feel like she used to in the days before she worried about her daughter and her paycheck, and controlling millionaires hundreds of miles away. “Thanks, Jillian.”
“No problem. Now, shoo.” She waved toward the door.
A minute later, Darcy had hung up her apron, grabbed some leftover chicken wings from the kitchen, then headed down toward the beach. The orange glow of the bonfire and the warm laughter of her friends beckoned her forward. Darcy sped up her steps, and slipped into the circle. “I brought wings!”
There was a resounding cheer, a number of voices calling out Darcy’s name in a mixture of surprise and joy, and then a few shuffling of bodies to make room for Darcy on a long piece of driftwood serving as a bench. She passed off the box of wings, accepted a beer, then raised it in a toast as her gaze skipped around the circle. “Sorry I’m so late, guys.”
“No problem,” Pammy said. “You didn’t miss anything except for Joey making too many fart jokes.”
That let loose a round of laughs. Darcy leaned back and took a long swig from the beer. As she did, she saw Kincaid out of the corner of her eye. Damn it. Pam must have invited him when she was at The Love Shack earlier. He was everywhere Darcy was, as if the Guy Upstairs was forcing her to deal with the past.
In the dark, his eyes were wide and mysterious, but there was no mistaking that they were watching her. He held a beer between two fingers, his elbows propped on his knees. The top two buttons on his shirt were undone, the sleeves rolled up, his hair a little mussed from the breeze off the water. Coupled with the warm light of the fire dancing off his features, he looked sexy as hell, and all her very good reasons for avoiding him seemed to flit away.
She joked with the others, drank a couple beers, roasted a hot dog, but all the time, she was acutely aware of Kincaid, just a few feet away. She’d send sidelong glances his way, and once, twice, she caught him looking at her, too.
The same quiver that she’d felt the first time she met him rippled through her belly. Her skin tingled with awareness. Paired with the simmering desire of a woman who knew how good sex with Kincaid
“Uh-huh. Then why did you have Amanda bring him his food?” Jillian said, referencing the third waitress. “Avoiding the great and sexy rich boy again?”
“For one, he’s not so great. And I don’t think he’s sexy. At all.” Someone should really deliver that message to her hormones. They’d been buzzing ever since he’d touched her. One touch, one hand on her wrist, and Darcy had been fantasizing about Kincaid for the rest of her shift.
It was because it had been a long time since she’d had sex. That was all. It wasn’t that the sex with Kincaid had been awesome—okay, so yes, it had been the best sex she’d ever had—it was merely that her vagina wasn’t as smart as her head. She needed to think with her brain, not anything south of her neck.
Darcy bent over and started scrubbing the table in furious circles. “I don’t care about Kincaid Foster. All he did was annoy me tonight.”
Jillian put a hand over Darcy’s. “You’re going to wear a hole in that. Let me finish for you. And you go to Pammy’s bonfire.”
“I’ve got Emma—”
“I’ll go over there and let Nona go home. The munchkin is long overdue for a sleepover with Aunt Jillian anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
Jillian put a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “You deserve to have a good time once in a while. You’re either working or taking care of Emma. You somehow exist on like three hours of a sleep a day. So yes, I’m sure. You go have fun.”
The thought of hanging out with friends, enjoying a few laughs and a couple beers, sounded like heaven. Jillian was right. It had been ages since Darcy had done that. Maybe then she’d stop focusing on Kincaid and wondering where he was—and when he was going to leave. She could feel like she used to in the days before she worried about her daughter and her paycheck, and controlling millionaires hundreds of miles away. “Thanks, Jillian.”
“No problem. Now, shoo.” She waved toward the door.
A minute later, Darcy had hung up her apron, grabbed some leftover chicken wings from the kitchen, then headed down toward the beach. The orange glow of the bonfire and the warm laughter of her friends beckoned her forward. Darcy sped up her steps, and slipped into the circle. “I brought wings!”
There was a resounding cheer, a number of voices calling out Darcy’s name in a mixture of surprise and joy, and then a few shuffling of bodies to make room for Darcy on a long piece of driftwood serving as a bench. She passed off the box of wings, accepted a beer, then raised it in a toast as her gaze skipped around the circle. “Sorry I’m so late, guys.”
“No problem,” Pammy said. “You didn’t miss anything except for Joey making too many fart jokes.”
That let loose a round of laughs. Darcy leaned back and took a long swig from the beer. As she did, she saw Kincaid out of the corner of her eye. Damn it. Pam must have invited him when she was at The Love Shack earlier. He was everywhere Darcy was, as if the Guy Upstairs was forcing her to deal with the past.
In the dark, his eyes were wide and mysterious, but there was no mistaking that they were watching her. He held a beer between two fingers, his elbows propped on his knees. The top two buttons on his shirt were undone, the sleeves rolled up, his hair a little mussed from the breeze off the water. Coupled with the warm light of the fire dancing off his features, he looked sexy as hell, and all her very good reasons for avoiding him seemed to flit away.
She joked with the others, drank a couple beers, roasted a hot dog, but all the time, she was acutely aware of Kincaid, just a few feet away. She’d send sidelong glances his way, and once, twice, she caught him looking at her, too.
The same quiver that she’d felt the first time she met him rippled through her belly. Her skin tingled with awareness. Paired with the simmering desire of a woman who knew how good sex with Kincaid
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