Page 216 of Better When Shared
Instead of the mocking I expected, Skylar’s expression softened. “That’s kind of sweet, in a pathetic, love-struck sort of way.”
“I’m not love-struck.” I grabbed my keys from the desk, then sighed. “Okay, maybe a little love-struck. They’re so amazing.”
“Mm-hmm.” She smirked. “Well, why don’t you tell them that? Ask them to stay?”
My phone alarm chirped, and I silenced it quickly. “Gotta go or I’ll miss the ferry.”
“Makai.” Skylar’s voice stopped me at the door. “Just… I know I’m always telling you to be careful, but maybe it’s time to be brave, okay?”
“It’s just a ride from the airport.” I kept my tone light. “Not a marriage proposal.”
“Sure.” She didn’t look convinced. “Tell them I said hi, and that I said I’d kick their asses if they fuck with my best friend’s heart.”
I frowned as I headed out to the truck. Should I be making a grand romantic gesture? Putting it all out there in hopes that they’d want the whole long-term thing with me?
The truck roared to life, and I cranked the music to drown out my thoughts as I pulled onto the road toward the ferry terminal.
This was ridiculous. I’d known Hamish and Imogen for all of six weeks. It wasn’t time to make a commitment yet. So why did I want to?
Chapter 19
Makai
I chickened out on the grand romantic gesture, frozen in indecision for the entire ferry ride and drive to Seattle, trying to come up with a plan. Maybe the ride had been enough of a gesture. After all, Hamish and Imogen had been thrilled to see me, and chattered happily the whole way here.
Or maybe I should have let Skylar coach me, though there was a high chance that would have left me outside their house with a boom box, like the guy in her favorite retro movie.
By the time we got back to Strawberry Creek Ranch, my thoughts were a mess. Imogen and Hamish were oddly upbeat, though. Maybe a little too upbeat, even. I eyed them suspiciously as I let them into my house, belatedly realizing that I should have offered to drive them to the cottage at the Cannery.
“You’re too good to us.” Imogen kicked off her shoes and padded across the wooden floor in her stockinged feet, looking so athome it made my chest ache. “You drove all the way to Seattle to surprise us, and now you’re feeding us?”
“It’s just takeout,” I said, holding up the bags.
Hamish set their suitcases by the door and joined her on the couch. “The look on Imogen’s face when she spotted you at baggage claim was priceless.”
“I nearly tackled you in front of everyone,” Imogen added, her smile wider than usual. “Best welcome home ever.”
Home. The word caught in my brain. This wasn’t their home. They had a fucking estate in England. The kind with a name and stables and probably staff who called Hamish “sir.”
Yet here they were, settling into my worn leather couch like they belonged there, Hamish’s fingers absently stroking Imogen’s shoulder, Imogen’s legs tucked beneath her, casual and comfortable in a way that made me yearn for things I’d convinced myself I didn’t want.
I busied myself in the kitchen, pulling out plates and forks.
Imogen bounced up from the couch. “Let me help. We’d better thank you properly for that airport rescue mission.”
She crossed to the kitchen and slid her arms around my waist from behind, pressing her body against my back. The familiarscent of her shampoo filled my nose, and I closed my eyes briefly, just feeling her against me.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I said, turning in her arms to face her. “I was just impatient. I couldn’t wait another three hours to see you both.”
Imogen was vibrating with excitement, like she was holding in a secret that was fighting to escape. It wasn’t about seeing me. I’d been with them for hours now, and whatever this was hadn’t faded. It was something else, something big.
“What’s going on with you?” I asked, tucking a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. “You’ve been buzzing like you mainlined espresso since I picked you up.”
She bit her lip, darting a glance at Hamish, who nodded encouragingly from the couch. Whatever this was, they’d clearly discussed it.
“I’ve been offered an extension of my job,” she blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “At the Cannery Hotel. As their Director of Events, with oversight of all the Bindery Group properties in the Northwest.”
I blinked, not immediately processing what this meant. “That’s...great? Congratulations. So you’d stay until...”
