We both exit his vehicle, and Wyatt meets me at the front where he takes my hand. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans, a gray V-necked t-shirt that’s semi-tucked into his pants, which is paired with a brown, leather belt. As I’ve discovered most people on the beach wear flip-flops, I’m not surprised that’s what Wyatt decided to wear on his feet.
I myself chose to wear a maxi-dress with a lime-green, white-and-black geometric design that was cut low in front and even lower in the back. It was tied halter-style around my neck and although you couldn’t see them because the dress was so long, the cutest pair of white, gladiator-style sandals.
“So, let me make sure I have this all straight,” I say conversationally as we walk toward the building, our clasped hands swinging in between us.
“Hunter is your best friend. He owns this place and is a retired, pro surfer. Gabby is his fiancée and a building contractor.”
“Right,” he confirms.
“Brody is Hunter’s identical twin. You’re friends with him as well, but not best. He spent time in prison for a crime he didn’t commit and his wife, Alyssa, is an heiress. Both of them work at The Haven, which is a non-profit, no-kill animal shelter that Alyssa started, and they have a little baby boy named Trey. “
I have to admit… Brody’s story fascinates me. In the field of law enforcement, you just accept that if someone was convicted, they were guilty. Brody sadly took the fall for someone else in a drunk driving accident that killed a person, and I would assume he must have tremendous depth of character to do something like that.
“Excellent,” he praises me. “You were really listening to me earlier, weren’t you?”
I tap a finger on my free hand against my temple. “Mind like a steel trap.”
Wyatt laughs and squeezes my hand. “So let’s hear the rest.”
“Okay… Casey is Hunter and Brody’s little sister and Gabby’s best friend… They grew up together and are a few years younger than you, Hunter, and Brody. Casey isn’t involved with anyone and in your words, ‘Everyone despairs of her ever settling down’… or something to that extent.”
“You’re three for four,” he says. “Let’s hear the last one.”
Taking a deep breath, I blow it out. “Okay… last to round out your posse is Savannah, who is a photographer, but was actually cleaning houses for a famous author named Gavin, who is originally from England. Savannah doesn’t have long ties to all of you, but was a friend of the girls and Casey’s roommate at some point. She and Gavin are the newest to your bunch, and they aren’t married… not even engaged, but they have a little girl named Clare.”
Wyatt stops our progress and turns to me, wrapping his hands around my waist. Pulling me in tight, he says, “That’s impressive you remembered all of that.”
“It’s the FBI in me… paying attention to details,” I say with a grin before planting a quick kiss on his chin.
“The biggest thing you have to remember is that despite the fact they can be loud, sometimes obnoxious, and completely nosy in an overbearing sort of way, they really are the greatest. You’re going to love them.”
“I can’t wait,” I tell him, attempting to step out of his grasp so we can go in.
He doesn’t let me go though, his arms banding around me tighter. Wyatt pulls me in close until our bodies are flush with each other. “And, as much as I adore my friends and want you to meet them… have a good time… whatever, I don’t plan on sharing you the entire night. We’ll stay for a few drinks, and then we’re leaving.”
“Yes sir, Officer,” I tease with a snappy salute… and then he kisses me.
Hard.
Deep.
Possessively.
When he pulls back, I hum low in my throat. “Mmmm… what was that for?”
“Because I can’t seem to fucking help myself around you,” he mutters as he grabs my hand and starts stalking to the entrance door.
I lower my head so he can’t see the grin on my face and keep it tilted down until we step inside.
And wow… this place is so cool. There’s a large bar to my right that runs down the length of the wall done in a rich, dark stain with a brass foot railing along the bottom. The floors are done in what looks to be reclaimed wood, also polished to a dark sheen. The walls, however, are painted in texturized blues of about three shades and swirled to resemble large ocean waves. The decor is simple but speaks to the owner’s history… a variety of framed prints showcasing various surfers, along with an eclectic mix of surfing memorabilia. A digital jukebox sits in the far corner, but that’s all I can see as Wyatt is turning left and headed down a short hallway that intersects with another that seems to lead back to the bathrooms.