Page 21 of The Boyfriend Effect (Frisky Business 1)
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t realize we’ve arrived at our destination until the car comes to a stop. I sit up straight, eager to get out of the car and stretch my legs.
I’ve been to Hayes’s family lake house before, but it’s even more beautiful than I remember. The dark, rustic exterior is surrounded on three sides by strikingly tall shade trees. The porch wraps around the house, providing plenty of space for the whole group to hang out and enjoy a cocktail, or for some introverted quality time alone on the porch swing.
My favorite part is the glimmering view of Lake Michigan, only thirty or so yards from the house. If you step off the porch and onto the deck, you have an unobstructed view of the path that winds down to the beach and its miraculously blue water.
“Coming through.” Hayes breezes by me, the straps of both of our duffels in one hand and a twelve-pack of beer in the other.
“You don’t have to carry mine,” I call out, jogging to keep up with him. There must have been rain last night, because my shoes sink in the muddied gravel of the driveway with every step.
“Don’t tell me you forgot the keys,” Wolfie says, his voice classically stern. He’s already at the door, sitting on top of a cooler and looking all kinds of impatient.
I’m sure no one will forget the year Hayes forgot the keys anytime soon. A neighbor saw us breaking in through a window and called the police. It took Hayes almost twenty minutes to convince them that it’s actually his grandma’s house.
“Shit,” Hayes mutters, then turns to me. “Keys are in my pocket. Wanna help a guy out? Unless you don’t mind mud on your bag.”
“Oh, um, I’ll get them. Which pocket?”
“Left front.”
Do not think about his penis, don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it.
Slipping my hand into his pocket, I do my best to ignore the hard angle of his hip bone, the firm muscle of his thigh, the heady scent of his skin so close to mine. I fish the keys out, a single ring holding two simple keys—front door and back door, I assume.
When I meet Hayes’s eyes again, he’s completely unfazed, no hint of emotion in their honey depths. Based on the burning of my cheeks, I must look like a tomato. I turn away quickly, tossing the keys to Wolfie and jogging back to the car to find any remaining groceries to bring inside.
Caleb’s Jeep rolls across the gravel driveway to join us. Out hops Scarlett, her arms outstretched for a hug. I could use a little Scarlett energy this weekend.
“Hi, baby.” She sighs happily into my ear, rocking us side to side.
“Hi.” I chuckle, squeezing her tight. “This is going to be a fun weekend.”
“Hell yeah, it is!”
Moments later, Penelope and I are tag-teaming a cooler up the steps of the porch. With a final huff, we drop the cooler in front of the door, exchanging triumphant smiles. That’s when I hear the crunch of tires on the gravel again.
Who else is coming?
Out of a midsize blue sedan slides a pair of long, tanned legs. Wearing a long summer maxi dress and with raven-black hair cascading over her shoulders, a woman looks up, meeting my eyes with a smile and a wave. It takes me a moment to place her, and I’m caught staring.
“Hi, Maren. Do you remember me?” Slinging her bag over her shoulder and hiking up her skirt, she walks toward us.
Oh, I remember her. Too vividly, perhaps.
Behind me, I hear the swing of the front door as Hayes steps out of the house, muttering under his breath, “What the fuck . . .”
“Who is that?” Penelope asks, her big, innocent eyes filled with questions.
In record time, I’m able to swallow the lump in my throat and smile back. “Holly, right? It’s been a long time. How are you?” I ask, but what I’m thinking is, What are you doing here?
Hayes, tactless as ever, asks the unspoken question. “What are you doing here, Holly?”
Her matte-red lips twist into a pout. “Don’t be mean, Hayes. I know you missed me. Oh, hey, Wolfie. How are you, handsome?”
Before I can register Wolfie’s presence, Holly is bounding up the steps to wrap him in a gigantic bear hug. Since when is Wolfie friends with Hayes’s ex? Ex is a stretch . . . They were friends with benefits for years.
Out of all the women that passed through the revolving door of his bedroom, Holly was the only regular. She was the only girl Hayes ever had a consistent fling with, something that lasted years, not weeks or months like all the others.
Is it too late to go back to the city?
“Hey, Holly,” Wolfie grumbles in his typical way, patting her on the back. That’s his cue to say, I’m done with this hug, thank you.
