One Bossy Dare: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Bossy Seattle Suits)

This room is no fancy-schmancy superlab, but it’ll do.

Everything is set up and just waiting for me to add my creative touch. It’s a comfortable environment, almost like someone’s living room with homey wicker and rattan couches and tall lounge chairs surrounding the table with beakers, scales, and burners.

It’s a million times better than the beast lab back in Seattle in one way. Golden light pours in from the ginormous floor-to-ceiling windows. A few are slightly open, letting the sea breeze in.

I take a deep breath, scanning the room, and smile.

I’m about to brew coffee with an ocean view. I’ve come a long freaking way.

Let’s do this.

I go in, hand grinding lightly roasted peaberry beans for a shiny new batch of campfire brew. It doesn’t take long before the fresh aroma fills the room.

While I’m waiting for coffee chemistry to do its thing, I drop into a lounge chair and stare out at the breathtaking view.

For men like Cole, this is the good life. If I just had a mai tai, it’d be perfection.

Only, there’s no denying the way he and Destiny keep dancing around some big, ugly shadow hanging over this place.

What kind of dark side does paradise have?

“Something smells goddamned delicious.”

I jump at the sound of his voice.

He hasn’t even entered the room yet, but that smooth bass voice covers my arms in goosebumps. I hop up, pulling off my safety goggles.

He comes around the corner a second later, all ripped muscles on full display in tan shorts and a colorful Hawaiian shirt.

Holy hell. Deep breath.

But he’s such an anti-Lump today that he doesn’t make it easy.

He stops in the doorway, deep-blue eyes roaming up and down my body. He doesn’t hide how they linger on a few choice places along the way.

My mouth is like cotton. When I swallow, I almost cough, crushed under the weight of Cole Lancaster’s hungry eyes.

When I’m finally able to look at him again, I see red.

Jesus.

Until him, I didn’t know a simple look could cut me open.

“I see you’ve settled in. I dig the island look,” I say, taking off my apron slowly and self-consciously.

“Glad you approve.” He bowls me over with that billion-dollar smile. “You working on the peaberry brew already?”

“Yep. If you want to stick around, it should be ready soon.”

“It’s only fair I offer up my services as taste tester.” He stops, his nostrils flaring, closing his eyes for a few heavy seconds as he inhales. “Goddamn, woman. If it’s half as good as it smells, I could kiss you.”

What?

I rock back like he just jabbed me with a cattle prod.

“To be fair, I’ve never worked with beans this delicate. I’m curious to see how it goes….” And not at all horribly curious about how he tastes, I lie to myself.

While we make small talk about the coffee farms, my brew finishes. I ladle black liquid into a cup, serving the first batch black like he requests.

Cole nearly rips it out of my hand before I can take a sip.

“Careful!” I shake my head. “Impatient, much? I wanted to make sure it’s even palatable before I serve it to my boss.”

“Like you’ve ever cared I’m your boss before.” He smirks.

“I mean, I need you alive to sign my paycheck. Can we lay off the coffee burns today?”

He snorts so hard his broad chest shakes.

“Y’know, I think you belong in Hawaii. I’ve never seen you so amused before.” I fill another cup, bring it to my mouth, and take a long sip, wrinkling my nose. “Eh. Not awful, but it’s a little more scorched today than I’d like.”

Cole looks at his cup and shrugs. He practically tosses it back in one gulp.

I’m not breathing, feeling the same tension a person on trial must get before a jury’s verdict.

“Not awful, Eliza? I could sell this now. Tastes like black gold.”

“Oil?”

“You know what I mean,” he grumbles.

I give him a doubtful look. “If it were just the mainland stores, maybe. But do you honestly think this is worth fifteen bucks per cup in a luxury resort?” I pause. “Smells like highway robbery to me.”

“It’s not the final version. You’ll tweak it and do a proper tasting survey, but it’s hardly a bad starting point. Quite a bit smoother than your average Kona roast.”

I eye him suspiciously, but see no sign he’s pulling my tail.

“I’ll admit you’ve spent way more time in luxury resorts than me. But I’m not sure the slogan of a Winthrope exclusive coffee should be ‘better than average.’”

He smirks, his eyes glowing like he could spank me—and wouldn’t that be godawful?

“Don’t kid yourself about the high-end crowd, honey badger. Rich people aren’t always as discerning as they think. Sometimes they’ll assume something is better only because they paid more. I agree we’ll make improvements, but I doubt it needs the work you think.” His gaze is so intense as he takes a step closer. “Perfect is the enemy of good enough, and that’s what makes the world run.”

“Did I accidentally sign up for your business course? I want out.”

I stare up at him, suddenly too breathless to keep sassing.

My eyes drop to his lips, that thick seam perfectly framed by his jaw, slowly chewing a hole in my whole world.

Yes, I’m aware I’m staring like a flipping idiot, but can I stop?

No.

“I don’t expect you to be chained to this lab the entire time we’re here, you know. Get the hell out. It’s a beautiful island. You should explore it. Fuck knows how many hours the rest of the team is actually working,” he rumbles.

Why does every little bout of grumping just make him hotter?

I swallow the heat trapped in my throat, finding enough air to force out an answer. “You’re serious?”

He nods, folding his arms. They flex across his chest like timbers.

“Have you ever really seen Hawaii, Eliza?”

“First time. I don’t even know where to start.” Am I rambling? “As far as exploring goes, I mean. I wouldn’t—”

“Try the beach first. You can follow me—if you want,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

I blink. “What?”

“You basically just said you need a guide. So we’ll start at the beach and I’ll fight off any great white sharks that want to make an afternoon snack of your ass.”

I actually gasp until I realize he isn’t serious.

Cole asshat Lancaster just cracked a stupid joke.

He turns away, staring at the scintillating waves out the window and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “This isn’t business. I’m offering to show you around off the clock, after hours…”

After hours.

Oh, God.

My heart leaps up my throat and crashes back down again. I never imagined such a mundane phrase having the force of a wrecking ball.

I’m about to jump at the chance to throw myself headfirst into whatever this is—or might be.

But Derek’s stupid smug face floods my mind. A man with his bright-eyed smile, his crisp button-down, his bouquets in hand and dangerously sexy salt-and-pepper scruff.

Forever tarnished with heartless lies. The easy way he brought me to dinners and concerts and held me in bed like I was the only woman he’d ever love.

All while his wife and kids were at home, oblivious to this loser gentleman using me for his selfish pleasure.

I can’t.

I can’t go down that road again—and Jesus, I definitely can’t with my boss.

“…to talk about the coffee, right?” I say sheepishly, my gaze fixed out the window when he looks at me.

Part of me wants him to say, “Fuck no. To suck the salt water off your lips,” so I have an excellent reason to run out of here screaming like my hair is on fire.

But a bigger, needier part of me wants to hear him say it so I can be stupid.

So I can gamble on making another mistake because at least I know there’s no other woman this time.

But most of me wants him to say, “Yeah, coffee,” in a completely disarming way. Then I could safely step foot on a sandy beach with this alphalicious prick while pretending to be sane and saving face.

Yes, I know.

I am the queen of hot messes.

“If you want,” he finally says with a one-shoulder shrug, swallowing so hard it’s audible. “After hours doesn’t have to mean work. I’d be open to talking about more.”

More? Panic floods my veins, but I don’t surrender full control.

“When? I get the impression any time before five o’clock is an early day for you.” It comes out of my mouth in a husky whisper.

I don’t sound like a professional woman who’s eager to discuss a new luxe coffee. More like a desperate tramp ready to fall on her boss’ salami.

But can’t they both be true?

Can’t I be both without initiating my life’s self-destruct sequence?

I want to believe.

Especially as I meet his bristling eyes and he mutters, “One o’clock. I’ll meet you at the end of the main path.”

Then his heavy footsteps pad away, leaving behind my own drumming heart.

“This feels a little like home. Except San Diego beaches were always twenty times more crowded.”

I stare out at a few lazy surfers in the distance. A parasailor glides along the horizon as we stroll across the beach hours later, shoulder to shoulder.

There’s a large swell forming offshore that must be a surfer’s delight.

“Did you spend a lot of time at the beach growing up?” he asks, reaching down for a smooth rock tucked in the sand.

“Yeah.” I grin. “But in San Diego, the beach is hard to miss. And if you’re having a bad day, a drive up the Pacific Coast makes everything better.”

“Damn. I forgot how much I enjoyed visiting this place,” he says absently.

I meet his blue eyes which almost match the ocean.

“You used to be here a lot then?” I pause. Duh, his family owns the Kona farms. “I’m sure you have. I forgot it’s your family’s farm.”

“Yeah. My grandparents retired out here before I was born. As much as my grandpa ever could retire, anyway. Here, he could oversee the farms and still enjoy some quiet. I think I was eight the first time I came here. We used to spend every other Christmas and Thanksgiving here, and even as a young man, I spent a lot of summers here. Hell of a place to make memories.” His voice lowers as he stares at the ocean. “Just wish they’d all stayed good ones.”

What does that mean?

I’m afraid to ask.

I won’t push him if he doesn’t want to talk about it, but it’s an odd thing to just drop in a conversation without explaining it.

I follow his gaze to the ocean, indifferent and sparkling with sunlight. Silver-blue waves crash impatiently against the beach.

“So much like California…but so different, too,” I say.

“Yeah. I’ve seen plenty of damn nice beaches. After a while, they all start to look the same.”

“Oh, I’m sure. You’re—well, so you. Billionaire traveler man.” I laugh gently. “But not all beaches look the same—”

“What does being a billionaire have to do with it?” he asks point blank.

Oof. I hope he didn’t take that as an insult.

“I just meant it’s only natural you’d see the world. Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it…”

“Besides Hawaii and a couple trips to Southeast Asia, most of the beaches I’ve seen were during my time in the Navy. The ports showed me a good sample of the world. And with the built-in duties, it was a more realistic picture than the image I got staying at resorts and lavish houses with my parents.”

“You served? Oh, I had no idea. Why would someone like you enlist?” I regret how it sounds, but not the question.

“Lancaster family tradition. I wasn’t going to be the one to break it. That’s Destiny’s job.”

I smile. “I don’t know. She likes seals, and you could probably see like a dozen different species from a cruiser. Then again, she hates beaches, right?”

Oh, crap. I’m not thinking.

The easy smile on his face disappears.

“How did you know that?” he asks, his tone hardening.

“…she told me. Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“No,” he mutters slowly. “Did she tell you anything else?”

“Nope.” A chill sweeps up my spine. Is Destiny’s disdain for the beach related to whatever tragic memories he mentioned earlier? “I mean, I know she goes to the shore back home to watch the seals.”

“Those piles of rocks and overcast skies Washington calls beaches are nothing like this,” he points out.

“For sure. Um, you mind if we sit down for a minute? I need a coffee.”

He scans the scenery around us. “There’s a stand for smoothies and frappes up the beach a little ways. Think they’ve got hot drinks too. I’ll buy you a cup.”

“No way. I came prepared.” The curious look he gives me makes me laugh. “Just sit!”

I drop down on the sand and pull out my secret weapon—an ornate brew pipe. It’s like a regular pipe except it has a cup at the end, just enough to collect a long shot of espresso. It just needs the light I pull from my pocket.

Cole sits beside me, looking around frantically before he whispers, “Eliza Angelo, don’t tell me that’s a crack pipe?”

I bite my lip and glare at him.

“You’re surprised? Isn’t it every girl’s dream to go to Hawaii and get high with her boss? You wouldn’t mind, would you?” I nudge him in the side playfully.

“Eliza—”

“Relax, bossman. This thing makes coffee.”

“Coffee?” He throws it back like a curse. “How the hell do you plan on brewing with that contraption? Where will you even get coffee from?”

“It’s a brew pipe. Relax. Also, it’s already loaded up. I’m always packing bean,” I say wistfully.

He looks at me like he’s wondering if he should have me committed.

“You still need heat with that abomination, don’t you?” he asks, snorting loudly.

“See this ‘contraption?’” I say, holding it up. “It’s called a lighter.”

“I’ve seen a lighter before, Badger Hellion. Just never paired up with a pipe that ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous about it?” I ask, but he shakes his head. “C’mon, Cole. I thought you of all people would be open-minded when it comes to the latest coffee gear.”

“Gear? You’re telling me it’s on the market and not something you rigged up yourself?” He groans, swiping a hand over his face.

I grin and nod happily.

“There are some inventions humanity was never meant to discover,” he says bitterly. “If this is the latest trend everyone adopts, I’ll let Wired Cup go bankrupt. Where did you even get that thing?”

“It’s a brew pipe, and Wayne found it online.”

“Wayne. Of course,” he says gruffly.

Snickering, I uncap the water bottle I brought along and pour it into the end. Then I flick the lighter on and hold the flame under it. The metal heats up fast.

“Ridiculous,” he grinds out again.

“Nope. What’s ridiculous is you not knowing about it when a lowly barista did, Commander Coffee. Seems like a major intel failure.” I smile sweetly.

“Now that I do, I wish I could un-know it.”

“By the way, he appreciated his referral bonus. It helped his mom big-time.”

He nods, turning his gaze away like he’s suddenly uncomfortable.

Ugh. Leave it to this lunk to turn into Captain Modesty when he does a good deed.

“It’s almost brewed,” I say a minute later, setting the pipe down on the tiny holder it came with. “Now we let it cool a few seconds for optimal taste.”

Cole laughs, brushing sand off his thigh. “I’ve never met anyone as serious about coffee as you, and I grew up coffee royalty. You and Wayne spend a lot of time together?”

“Not really. Before I took this job, I bounced around a lot of coffee shops, studying their flavors and menus. I picked up a few shifts when Wayne was short on people, but nothing too official. We’d talk about coffee whenever I went to Wired Cup, and we’ve hung out occasionally at charity events together…”

Is it bad that I like the jealousy gleaming in his eyes?

“That’s a relief. You can do better than him,” Cole snaps. “What the hell sort of boyfriend only shows up part-time?”

I laugh. “Behave. Wayne isn’t my boyfriend. He’s not even my type.”

He turns his head, raking me with a slow, burning look.

“What, pray tell, is your type, Eliza?”

Oh. My. God.

I ignore the question, but I’m sure he finds his answer with the way I jerk away, staring intently at the brew pipe.

I touch the end to make sure it’s cooled, then put the pipe end to my mouth and languidly sip half the shot. My head rolls back and I purse my lips like I’m enjoying a fine cigar.

“Man, that’s on point. I added a hint of macadamia nut to the roast.” I pass the pipe. “Try this.”

He tilts it in his fingers like he’s holding an alien device.

“Careful. It’s still hot. Go ahead, taste the nuts,” I urge.

“No need. You are nuts, Eliza Angelo.” But he shuts up long enough to suck a long pull from the pipe.

The way his eyes ignite with stunned pleasure tells me he’s about to swallow his pride.

“Well?” I venture.

“Good. Surprisingly smooth. I never imagined I’d enjoy sucking coffee through a damn crack pipe, however…”

“Coffee pipe, you idiot,” I insist with a giggle.

“Whatever, badger.” He leans back on the sand, casually draping his arm around me.

My face heats.

At first, I make no effort to move, but then when I see he doesn’t pull back like he’s realizing his mistake, I scoot closer.

We sit there, sharing the stillness, alone except for the murmuring waves and my heartbeat drumming in my ears.

My boss has his arm around me.

My hot, unhinged, tightly wound boss who seems too smart to complicate our lives.

Even with the fresh caffeine hit, my brain keeps stuttering, trying to process what we’re doing. His seductive, masculine scent doesn’t help when it smells a thousand times better than the finest fresh-brewed coffee.

“You never answered my question,” he says. “If Wayne isn’t your type, then why are you so serious about coffee? I thought for sure it was the barista’s influence…”

“Honestly, I’m not sure I have a type,” I lie. Because unfortunately, I do, and it’s totally Cole Lancaster. “No time to date much.”

His jaw sets and he sighs. “Damn shame. You’re young and pretty and you have an annoying sense of humor. Men should be lined up at your door holding grudge matches to take you out—then again, are there still men in the age of Tinder? Can’t imagine sending pickup lines over a screen.”

What the what? He thinks I’m pretty?

My giddy heart vibrates like a plucked guitar string.

And I can’t help but laugh. He’s not that old, but his ideas about dating are hilariously old.

I’m starting to believe his love life is more boring than mine.

“Could be because I don’t know that many people in Seattle,” I say carefully. “I’ve lived there a few years, but it’s harder to meet people as an adult.”

“I get it. No time to pull yourself away from the bean.”

“Right.” My face turns redder with every lie.

“You never told me why you’re a coffee freak.”

I look over and he’s so close, his face mere inches from mine.

Close enough to see the imperfections on a person’s face, but Cole has zero. No scars, no lines, no deceit swirling in his eyes.

Just good, honest grumpy bossman who sometimes lets his storminess fade to distant thunder.

Seeing him this close renders me breathless. I think he takes my silence as hesitation.

He smiles warmly. “No judgment. If anyone should take coffee so seriously, it’s me. I just can’t muster the same spark. Not like you, so I’m curious.”

“My obsession actually started with a prank when I was seven…” I say slowly, unsure if I want to tell him this story. But he makes me weirdly comfortable when we’re lounging like this.

“Seven? You were already addicted as a first grader?”

Laughing, I nod. “Not like you think, but…it’s a sad story. My dad and I liked to prank each other all the time, so one day I emptied the sugar holder on the kitchen table and filled it with salt. My dad came home from work, started the coffee pot—which was strange because he usually only had his coffee in the morning—and slumped down at the table with a steaming cup. He put five heaping teaspoons of salt in his coffee and took a big drink—”

Cole snorts. “I suppose he didn’t appreciate your early experiments.”

“He burst into tears,” I say quietly.

The amusement on his face vanishes.

“Tears? He cried over a bad cup of coffee?”

I glance down as the memory returns in vivid, painful detail.

That only brings the crown of my head closer to Cole’s face. It’s the most natural thing in the world when his lips brush my hair and he breathes me in.

I take a deep, halting breath, loving how his chest swells, relishing the moment before I hurry back to the story.

Neither of us should make more of this than it is.

We’re just two people enjoying a splendid Hawaiian afternoon.

“Turns out, Dad got laid off from the job he had for twenty years before he came home that evening. My mom was a stay-at-home mother at the time. He was scared.” I lick my lips softly. “I guess some men tie their self-worth to their livelihoods, so losing the job was a huge deal. But I realized if I hadn’t messed with his coffee…he might have held it together. He wouldn’t have had a breakdown.”

I pause, tingling as Cole lays his chin softly over my hair.

“There are lessons in pain,” he whispers knowingly. “Especially the kind that’s so innocent. You didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“Yeah—and that’s how I learned how powerful a good cup of coffee can be. I knew it had to be when a bad cup could be so devastating. Oh, and when my mom came and sat down beside him, she picked up the cup, sipped it, and said ‘This is different. Like sea salt caramel without the caramel. I like it.’ Crazy part is, she wasn’t joking. So I also learned that people can have drastically different tastes.”

I look up into his sky-blue eyes, fixed on me now, bright and protective and safe.

“The guilt ate at me, of course,” I continue. “I apologized until I was blue in the face, but the man just wanted a break—one tiny little break—and I had to shit up his coffee with salt. I had to make it up to him. I spent years trying to brew him the best cup of cheap drip coffee he’d ever had. Like I could somehow make it good enough to forgive what I’d done. To forgive myself, maybe.”

Cole chuckles softly, his big chest vibrating against me.

“If that’s the worst thing you ever did to your old man, I’m sure he forgave you,” he says.

“He did, but it’s not the point. I made one of the worst days of his life worse. I saw how big the little things can get when you’re already feeling crappy.”

“I would have been damn lucky if my parents showed that much emotion, for what it’s worth. They were stiff, no-nonsense people,” he says slowly, turning his attention back to the churning ocean. “They didn’t spend time with me the way I do with Dess. For them, my life was planned from the time I could walk, learning to take over what was then Noble Bean when the time came.” He sighs.

God help me.

My heart bleeds a little for Cole.

“I’m sure it wasn’t easy,” I whisper.

“It wasn’t all bad. I grew up comfortably and my future was clear. I accepted having my life hitched to a legacy.” He pauses, inhaling me again like he needs the scent of my hair. “This place may fall apart if and when Destiny takes over, but I stood at my father’s funeral years ago, struggling to care. When the delayed grief hit, it was more like I’d never had a father than if I’d just lost my dad.”

Again, my heart nosedives. Knowing he’s had at least two big losses in life must be partly why he’s so closed off.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your life and I’m not asking for tears. Especially not in this beautiful place where it feels like a sin not to smile,” he says sternly.

He takes the brew pipe and pulls one last sip from it before passing it to me, caressing my face as he does.

Those incandescent blue gems in his face catch my eyes again. His hand goes from softly skimming my cheek to cupping my face, his fingers relishing my heat.

Oh, hell.

Then that sparkling gaze drops from my eyes to my lips.

There’s something feral in his expression.

Something wild.

Something that wants to taste me with teeth.

I stretch my legs out, feeling the breeze, suddenly aware of how wet I am.

Just in case, I place my hand over the brew pipe and push it toward the sand next to me. I’m not ruining this by getting burned if it’s still hot.

He must read my mind, bringing his other hand to my face and inhaling sharply.

God, I love how his breath trembles. Like it’s taking his entire soul to hold back from turning me over, hiking up my dress, tearing off my panties, and taking me right here where anyone can see.

“You are fucking dangerous,” he growls, giving words to the harsh thoughts in my head. He urges me up in his arms.

With both hands, he pulls my face to his.

When our lips touch, I hug him with a loud moan spilling from my throat.

I’m not like this.

I don’t go to pieces kissing strange, broody men on exotic beaches and aching for sex that’s guaranteed to complicate my life.

But with Cole, I become someone else.

Someone who melts into a puddle when I see the shine in his eyes as he dips his face to mine, knowing it can only mean one thing.

His kiss falls on my lips like a meteor, hot and intense enough to blind the high tropical sun.

I’m freaking electrified as our mouths collide, my life flashing before my eyes, his tongue swiping mine and then pushing in.

Not asking. Taking what he wants.

My toes scrunch up in my sandals. He seizes my bottom lip with his teeth and a low animal growl, only relenting to chase my tongue again.

His tongue delves against it, teasing and claiming, pulling a raw whimper from my throat.

“Oh.” I sigh, tumbling back with my mouth tingling.

For a second, we stare at each other, eyes searching for any last doubts. Though I’m honestly not sure if they would stop us.

It’s the only invitation he needs.

He grabs me again and hauls me onto his lap, pushing my legs around his muscular body. Our faces melt together.

He explores my mouth.

My tongue ravishes his.

His hands grip my waist, brushing my sides, my thighs, and finally wrapping behind me, squeezing me deliciously.

I hook my legs around him, loving how he isn’t afraid to be rough with my ass.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

I can feel him.

I can feel what he’s got and it’s so devilishly thick I gasp against his kiss.

He pulls back with laughter in his eyes. “Guess you see where the big ego comes from. I may be an arrogant bastard, Eliza, but I come by it honestly.”

When he moves, I’m so not ready.

His hips punch up, pushing between my legs, raking his hard, throbbing desire against me.

Holy hell!

The friction makes my eyes roll.

I bite my lip as his cock rubs my pussy through the fabric, as he rears back and thrusts against me several more times, each movement coming harder than the last.

This man wants me violently.

I’m sweating rivulets—and it has nothing to do with the hot sand under us.

God damn him.

I want more. So much more, but he’s my boss.

A strange, hurt beast who’ll command a heavy price if I let him drag me into bed.

I shouldn’t want it.

I shouldn’t focus all my energy on devouring his mouth, warring with his tongue, becoming paralyzed with pleasure as his fingers skim the waistband of my panties.

As his hand flicks under lace.

As he finds my clit and pinches it oh so softly—but still hard enough to make me push my face into his shoulder, where I bite down on his shirt.

It’s all I have to muffle this scream.

I have to end this.

Before we wind up having horizontal monkey-sex here on an open beach.

I have to—

“Fuck!” he snarls in my ear, so low and vicious it’s barely even human. “I could lick this raw, Eliza. I could give you a thousand of these sunsets with your pussy on my face.”

Foly Huck.

This kiss is enough, I lie to myself.

It’s the closeness I crave.

Everything else, his hand there, his crude promise that makes me so soaked I’m afraid I won’t even be able to walk—it’s too much. Too soon. Too tempting.

He must sense my confusion and the way I’m trembling because he pulls back.

His mingled scent of salt water and coffee and man is overwhelming. The strength of his arms still wrapped so tight consumes me.

“Eliza, if it’s too much—”

“No. Not if we stop now,” I whisper, smiling into his lust-lit eyes.

I swear, I could live in this moment forever.

For now, his kiss is enough, and I need to get my soul seated back in my body.

I’m slowly, reluctantly untangling myself from him and standing when a young voice calls, “Dad? Dad, where are you?”

Moment over.

Cole bolts to his feet so fast I almost topple over.

He’s too distracted to catch me. I shoot him a glare as I dust sand off my arms and legs, but I can’t hold too much of a grudge when I see the alarm on his face.

I sit down again a few safe paces away, grabbing the brew pipe.

“Daddy! Where are you?” Destiny shouts, sounding frantic.

“Here! Right here, sweetheart.” But by the time he says it, she’s already found us.

“Why? Why didn’t you take me?” Destiny stands behind me.

Cole looks at his daughter. “You said you didn’t like the beach.”

She pouts. “We’re in Hawaii, Dad. I have to try.”

“Sorry, Dess. I didn’t know you were ready.”

I raise an eyebrow. She’s fifteen and walks to the harbor daily. He’s acting like she’s three and she’s never seen water in her life, but she’s definitely got this mysterious phobia…

What’s really going on?

Destiny sighs. “Well, I didn’t know either, but Kate and Uncle Troy—”

“Uncle Troy?” Cole repeats, his face tightening into a scowl.

Destiny blinks. “He’s known me since before I was born, right?”

“Right.” Cole nods heavily.

“Anyway, a couple people on the team said they saw dolphins this morning on a boat ride, and I wanted to go see them. But Kate got sunburned, so she couldn’t come. She said I had to find you, or I couldn’t go to the marina, so I’ve been stumbling around here looking for like half an hour! So, can we go see the dolphins? Please?”

Cole sighs. “Katelyn Storm needs a raise.”

I laugh. “What? You don’t compensate her for nanny duties?” I whisper. I place the brew pipe and ladder back in the pocket of my sundress and stand. “Come on, I’ll take you. Let’s go see some dolphins.”

“Really?” Destiny claps her hands.

“Yep.” I’m almost as excited as she is.

Cole gives me a look I can’t decipher. So many emotions that don’t match his words when he says, “Are you still going to let your dad tag along?”

“Hell yes! This is the best day ever,” Destiny says.

I smile, slightly more at ease as Cole returns it.

“I love dolphins. They’re just big sea puppies,” the girl says excitedly.

“Is there an animal you don’t love?” Cole grumps.

“Um, the ones I’m allergic to?” Destiny says pointedly. “They make me sneeze. Not a big fan of the creepy crawlies with a thousand legs either…”

“You love all sea animals,” he corrects.

Destiny grins. “Yeah. I heard there’s a few rare starfish somewhere around here, too. Can we see them?”

“Not sure. That might require snorkling, Dess. We’ll see how you do on the boat.” Cole gives her a serious look.

“Okay. Sure.” Destiny smiles sheepishly as she links her arm through mine. “What was that thing you had anyway?”

“What thing?” I laugh at the random question.

“I saw you put a pipe in your pocket, but like, a weird one. Were you smoking?” She whispers, pushing her small face to my ear. “I won’t tell Dad if it’s some weird mini bong but…you don’t look like a stoner.”

This girl. I burst out laughing.

At least she’s too young to know about crack pipes.

“It’s a new kind of brew pipe. It makes coffee.”

“Coffee? No way!” Laughing, she gives me a glance like she isn’t sure she believes me, but it’s all in good spirits as she whispers outside Cole’s earshot again. “Whew. Here I thought you were trying to get Dad to lighten up and relax. But you were getting him hooked on the hard stuff. He’s already an espresso fiend.”

“I’m no fiend of any kind, young lady,” Cole throws back.

But the look he gives me over his shoulder says we both know that’s a blatant lie.

To me, he’s a fallen angel, and soon he’ll claim my body and soul.