“I promise.” Brant scratched Scrappy’s head. “He’ll be fine. Say goodbye to Mommy.” He waved the pup’s paw.
She was going to miss them. Him. Scrappy!
Yeah, right.
“Thanks again for the ride, and for letting me sketch the cove, and for dinner, and for teaching me to drive the boat.” She sighed. “Thanks for a great night. It was fun.”
“Anytime, angel. Tell your tatted friend I said, Game on. Prepare to lose.”
She laughed and stepped off the yacht, the endearment—angel—growing on her just like her dimple-cheeked charmer was. As she headed down to the end of the docks, where she saw her burly friend waiting, she knew she should probably tell Brant that Tank wasn’t her boyfriend, that he was madly in love with his pregnant wife, Leah Yates, and their two little girls, Junie and Rosie. But as she’d told Abby and Faye, Brant was hard enough to resist when he had competition. She couldn’t imagine how he’d turn up the heat if he knew he had none.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing at the front of the boat, watching her. He waved, and her stomach flipped. Operation Stop the Butterflies was now Operation Keep Him from Seeing Me So Clearly, which was something she wasn’t even sure she wanted to do.
In other words, she was screwed.
Tank lifted his bearded chin in greeting as he took her bag and embraced her. “Hey, sweetheart.”
At six four, with a body built for a fight, inked and pierced to the hilt, and donning his ever-present black leather Dark Knights motorcycle club vest, Tank had an intimidating presence, softened only by his heart of gold. After the death of his younger sister several years ago, he’d become a volunteer firefighter and had been on a mission to rescue everyone in his path, until meeting Leah, who had helped him deal with those demons. Cait had never been more thankful than the day she’d met him, when he must have added her to that list. He was the best friend a girl could ask for.
“Thanks for coming. Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s all good. Your ride go okay?” Tank asked as they headed to his truck. “You look a little funny.”
That’s because I liked opening up to Brant way too much. “Yeah. It was fun. I’m just a little tired.”
“Uh-huh. I believe you’re beat, and to be honest, I’m worried about you going back and forth so much. It’s got to wear you out.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “But I’m feeling something else. Want to tell me what’s up?”
His ability to read people was on par with all-seeing Brant’s. “It’s nothing, really. I guess I’m just not used to having fun with guys, except you and your motley crew of brothers and cousins, but that’s different.”
“You really like this guy, don’t you?” He sounded as surprised as she felt.
She shrugged one shoulder, feeling his eyes on her, but she stared straight ahead as they crossed the parking lot. “He’s nice.”
“I checked him out,” he said, bringing her eyes to his.
“You checked out Brant?” That shouldn’t surprise her. Tank was the most protective man she’d ever met, and not just of her, but of everyone he called a friend. The Dark Knights helped to keep the community safe, and they had members in every walk of life and more connections than one could imagine.
He cocked a grin. “’Course I did. Did you know he’s Rowan’s brother?”
“I didn’t until tonight when Brant told me.” She thought about them for a moment, searching for similarities. Rowan was taller than Brant but not as muscular as his boatbuilding brother. They had the same wavy brown hair and similar blue eyes, though Brant wore his hair shorter, and his eyes were electric and full of energy, while Rowan’s were midnight blue and contemplative, but she could see the similarities now.
When did I start picking apart men?
“Well, I can’t find any dirt on Brant or his family.” Tank stopped walking beside his truck. “Near as I can tell, he’s clean as a Boy Scout.”
“I told you that everyone on the island loves him. He’s an open book. He can’t even lie.” So why am I worried that he could be like Jekyll and Hyde? Wouldn’t her sisters know that by now and have warned her? All it took was one thought of her father to find the answer. The pillar of society everyone saw in her father was in complete contrast to the man he was behind closed doors. But still. Her sisters and their friends seemed to know everything about the people they’d grown up with. It was different from living in Connecticut, where most of the students in her own school hadn’t even known her name.
Tank studied her eyes the way she caught Brant doing sometimes. “Do you trust him?”
“That’s just it, Tank. I feel like I can trust him, but . . .”
“But you’re afraid to trust your instincts.”
“Bingo.” As she climbed into the truck, she realized that with Brant, Jekyll and Hyde wasn’t her biggest fear after all, which came as a shock because it had been her biggest fear about men since she was a little girl. But she knew that the more she let him in, the more he’d want to know about her, and that was all the reason she needed to try to keep her distance. Once he knew about her past, he’d probably bolt before she even had a chance to discover his flaws—leaving her even more broken than she’d been before she met him.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE BUZZ OF tattoo guns and murmurs of hushed conversations rose around Cait as she cleaned her work space before her last client Tuesday evening at Wicked Ink. She’d worked twelve hours yesterday, and by the time she left tonight she’d have racked up another twelve hours. She pulled out her phone and saw she’d missed a text from Deirdra and one from Brant, sparking a flutter in her chest. The butterflies in her stomach had migrated with every picture and text he’d sent since Sunday night, starting with an impossibly cute picture of him and Scrappy sitting on his front porch when they’d gotten home that evening. Cait had woken up to a good-morning text yesterday—He slept like a champ in my bed—immediately followed by, We’d both sleep better if you were here with us, and a winking emoji. Another text had rolled in seconds later. I can’t lie. If you were in my bed, we would get very little sleep. Brant was so freaking honest, she didn’t know if she should commend him or slap him. She’d never gotten texts like that, and they should probably cause her red flags to fly, but somehow Brant managed to come across sweet and funny instead of threatening, not to mention how that combination conjured very enticing images. He’d also sent less flirtatious texts like, We’re out for a boat ride and miss our captain. He’d made her not only think about him constantly but miss him incessantly.
She opened Deirdra’s message first, since they hadn’t touched base for a few days. You almost DROWNED? WTH? Why didn’t you tell me? Deirdra was two years younger than Cait and two years older than Abby. She was used to being an older sister, and it showed in her take-charge attitude. Cait didn’t mind. It was nice having sisters who cared about her. She thumbed out a response, eager to get to Brant’s message. Because I’m fine and you’re busy. Sorry. Next time I almost die, I’ll let you know. She added a kissing emoji and opened Brant’s text.