Page 33 of Moonlit Hideaway
“You handled that better than I did when we ran aground.” Hank’s eyes reflected admiration and something deeper.
“Maybe because you were too distracted by my song and the, shall we say, exploration?” She referred to their first kiss, rudely interrupted by the grinding halt of the boat hitting a sandbar.
Hank stood shoulder to shoulder with her behind the steering column. “How about I test your skills further?”
Before Sierra could respond, Hank edged closer and kissed her cheek.
Sierra rolled her eyes with a huff, keeping her hands firmly on the pilot’s wheel, but then his lips moved to her ear, nibbling it with light kisses. She shuddered and closed her eyes, tilting her head as he swept her hair from her neck.
“Let’s see how well you navigate now,” he whispered, his voice carrying a promise as he gently trailed kisses down her neck. The sun, the sea, the sound of the waves—all faded into the background as the only thing that mattered was what Hank was doing to not just her lips and her body but to her yearning heart.
Out here, on the open water, underneath the dome of the Carolina sky, she was free, truly free from the shackles of her stardom, the expectations of her fans, and the entanglements of her family.
And here, aboard a skiff calledSea Melody, she was rewriting the song of her life with the melody of her heart. Out here, she was exactly where she was meant to be—with Hank.
The question was, for how long?
Chapter Twelve
Sierra had to remind herself that the dream world on theSea Melodycouldn’t continue once she and Hank stepped foot on dry land. He’d brought her out on a fantasy ride where they were alone on the sound, weaving around sandbars and trapping crabs among the shallow waters filled with sea grass. Out on his skiff, she’d belted out her songs and danced as if her life depended on it, rocking his boat and laughing her head off.
She’d also kissed Hank as if her life depended on it, and goodness, she’d loved being in his arms and gazing into those true-gray eyes of his. Out on the sound, she’d been a fairy princess to his knight in shining armor. She’d felt freedom and joy and the spark of a new beginning.
But in the chill of the morning light, alone in the tiny daybed in the room next to Hank’s, she wondered how long she could hold back the tide. Hank needed a woman who’d love the things he did. Who’d be content to spend her life on this island, to help him run the inn and let his mother retire and enjoy her golden years. Who’d be happy with outings on the sound, beachcombing for shells after a storm, gazing at stars on a clear night, and boarding the windows before a storm.
He deserved happiness and fulfillment after losing Chloe, but if Chloe, who’d grown up on this island, didn’t want to stay, how could she, a girl who grew up under the neon lights of the city, be right for him? No wonder his mother had cautioned her, and here she was, the morning after, lying in bed and not wanting to face the music.
Could she hold on to Hank a moment longer? Love him in the here and now, and would that be enough for him—for her? She was playing with fire, stirring up passions better left untouched, but how could she miss out on this man who was solid like no one else she knew?
She hadn’t read his signals to know how to greet him in the morning. Should she knock on his door and give him a good morning kiss? Or was she supposed to pretend nothing happened in front of Emma and his mother?
They’d acted casual when they’d returned the evening before with an ice chest full of Carolina blue crabs. Hank had been busy grilling them while Mabel put the rest in ice, and Emma had monopolized her by showing her dance moves she learned on TikTok. If Emma, Mabel, and Howie had detected any sparks over the grilled crab dinner, they made no mention. And everyone, including Liam, had spent a pleasant evening under the stars, chatting while Emma played her guitar and Oliver gobbled up the leftovers.
Maybe she should have clarified with Hank where she stood, but since he called her Jane all evening, she got the message that the charade should continue. Mabel would be worried if she knew the intensity of her feelings for Hank, and Emma might have become a pest—asking too many questions and either pushing them together or resentful that she was taking her mother’s place.
Complications.
Sierra heard Emma’s shower turn on and decided she would play it cool—until a furtive knock at her door had her heart skittering.
“Jane? Are you up?” It was Hank.
Sierra was glad she’d brushed her teeth as she opened the door.
“Quick, before Emma comes out of the shower.” Hank shut the door and lowered his lips onto hers.
Sparks and tingles danced over her as he wrapped his arms around her and let his warmth seep into her body. Goodness, how she wished they could have spent the night together. But this was a small town, and gossip aside, she was under the same roof as his mother and daughter.
She would have to adjust and let him set the pace, and right now, he was as handsy as a teenager.
Giggling at the thought, she ran her hands over the ridges of his muscles before he tightened up and broke the kiss.
“I don’t want my mother to catch on,” he said. “She has no clue this is real. She believes we’re just faking it for your disguise as Jane Dolan.”
Sierra didn’t want to contradict him. He would be embarrassed if he knew his mother had already cautioned her.
“I agree, but it’s going to be hard not staring at you all the time. Remind me to wipe my drool.”
“Mwah.” He kissed her audibly. “Gotta go act like a dad now, and then Liam and I will work underneath the house. What’s your plan for the day?”
