for the pink material, “but I can take care of myself.”
Drew didn’t doubt it. Debbie had been on her own since her mother died. Before that, really, with the care Bonnie Mattson had needed during her illness. He’d long admired Debbie’s independence and the way she’d scoffed at the idea of needing a man. But for the first time, that toughness seemed to soften something inside his chest. He held on to the shawl, keeping their hands tangled together in the wispy fabric. “I know you can. But once in a while, it’s nice to have someone take care of you.”
Sliding the shawl from her hands, he draped the material over her shoulders, keeping hold of both ends. “Maybe,” she conceded, though her slightly stiff posture wasn’t giving an inch. “But I don’t need—”
“This isn’t about need,” he interrupted. “It’s about want.”
Debbie swallowed. “Want?”
“It’s like...dessert. Not something you need, but certainly something you crave.”
“And let me guess. You’re craving something sweet.” The sardonic twist on the word told Drew what Debbie thought of that description—one he’d been guilty of using in the past. She’d nailed it when she complained to Darcy and her fellow bridesmaids about the local guys treating her like a little sister or a platonic buddy.
Standing so close to her now, feeling the heat from her body and breathing in the vanilla-and-spice scent of her skin, he wondered how the male population—himself included—could have been so deaf, blind and stupid. He had no doubt Debbie would taste sweet and yet— Suddenly he thought of the sheer temptation of her chocolate-raspberry cake. “I was thinking more along the lines of something rich, decadent, a little sinful even.”
Debbie’s eyes widened, huge and sparkling in the faint light streaming through the French doors. He’d gone too far, he thought. Pushed too hard for something he shouldn’t even let himself want. The smart thing, the logical thing to do was to walk away now while they still could. “Debbie—”
“Seriously, Drew, has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”
“Uh—” Before he had a chance to say anything else, she reached up, clasped her hands behind his neck and pulled his head toward hers. At the first touch of her lips, Drew was lost. Walk away? How could he when a single kiss had knocked him off his feet?
He’d been right about the sweetness, but had seriously underestimated just how rich, just how decadent she would taste, with just a hint of champagne and the piña colada wedding cake she’d made flavoring the kiss. The combination was addictive, but it was a taste uniquely her own. His tongue hungrily traced her full upper lip from corner to corner, spending an extra second at the enticing peak in the center. Diving deeper when she made a soft, indistinct sound that still managed to convey the intoxicating blend of demand and desire.
Drew might have smiled at the demand—Debbie had never been shy when it came to speaking her mind—but the desire overrode all else. He pulled her closer, her softness and curves melding against his body in a perfect fit. Blood pounded through his veins, and his hands tightened on her hips. The thin, slippery material of her dress hardly seemed like much of a barrier. With a few deft moves to push it out of the way—
The thought had barely crossed his mind when he froze at the sound of voices drifting over from the parking lot on the other side of the evergreen hedge. The night chill seeped in as Debbie broke the kiss and slipped from his arms.
“You sure about this? Your brother is going to kill you for messing with his ride.”
“I know. Great, isn’t it?”
“You know what they say about payback, and your wedding is less than two months away.”
Drew immediately recognized Sam’s voice along with his friend Billy Cummings’s. The three of them were supposed to decorate Nick’s truck. Even though the newlyweds were spending their first night together at the bed-and-breakfast, their vehicle would proudly announce their just-married status for the trip home. Sam had gathered the appropriate mix of tin cans and shaving cream along with some leashes and dog toys as an homage to Nick’s profession.
It wouldn’t be long before—
“So where is Drew anyway? Are we doing this without him?”
“No way! He has to be part of this so I can tell Nick it was all his idea.” The faint crunch of gravel followed Sam’s words. “You go get the stuff, and I’ll track him down.”
Nick might have been the veterinarian, but Sam could be like a dog with a bone. He wasn’t going to give up until he found Drew.
His looked over at Debbie, who’d already taken a few steps back. Her arms were once again crossed over her chest, but Drew didn’t think this time was because of the cold. “Debbie, I’m sorry. I— That was—”
The awkwardness of the moment grew in rhythm with the silence as he tried to put the kiss and the past few minutes into words. But she clearly had her own ideas about what had taken place. “Wedding fever,” she stated flatly. “But don’t worry. You’ll forget all about it by morning.”
Then she turned and went back into the reception, leaving him alone on the balcony.
Debbie took one look at the bold black letters on the whiteboard in front of The High Tide restaurant and immediately wanted to turn around and make the forty-minute drive back home from Redfield.
Singles’ Night—Meet and Greet!
Nerves somersaulted through her stomach, whirling fast enough to make her feel sick. This was what she got for opening her big mouth in front of her friends. Ever since making that silly claim about wanting someone to sweep her off her feet, Sophia and Kara had been bombarding her—in person and via phone calls and emails—with ways to meet Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome.
She’d escaped a three-way tag team only because Darcy was in Paris on her honeymoon with Nick. Though if her friend did come across any possibilities, Debbie wouldn’t be surprised to receive a message touting Monsieur Tall, Dark and Handsome.
Sophia had been the one to send her the info on the singles’ night. Debbie wondered what her friend would think of the sign—one she was sure normally listed the catch of the day. As if she could just order up the perfect guy to go.
Not that she was looking for the perfect guy. But she’d told Sophia she’d give it a try. She had nothing to lose, right?
Memories of the moonlit balcony swarmed her senses—the brush of Drew’s lips, the subtle hint of champagne, the murmur of her name spoken against her skin. Okay, maybe she’d caught him off guard, kissing him the way she had, but he’d done a heck of a job kissing her back. It had been enough to make Debbie think that maybe he was right. Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she’d always thought. Then he’d deepened the kiss, and she’d stopped thinking at all....
Debbie slammed that mental door shut. As far as she was concerned, those were all reasons to go to the singles’ night. Drew had gotten caught up in the moment only to immediately regret it. She knew it by the what-the-hell-am-I-doing-kissing-her look in his dark gaze and the apology that had followed. And in his total absence over the past week. Not that they normally saw each other every day, but it was a small town. You couldn’t avoid running into someone unless you were avoiding running into someone.
Not that she expected him to seek her out, but that he hadn’t... Well, it only showed that she was right. Temporary insanity brought on by wedding fever and nothing more.
So, fine. She wasn’t interested in Drew anyway. She wanted adventure, excitement. She wanted to meet someone new, and she was going to check out the daily specials on offer tonight at The High Tide.
Breathing in a deep, hopeful breath, Debbie climbed