Return to Hummingbird Way

Book 2: Holly Grove Island

by Reese Ryan

Genres: Small Town & Rural

Synopsis

Can three months, two planning projects, and a meddling grandmother finally make these high school hate crushes see just how right they are for each other?

Ambitious real estate agent Sinclair Buchanan is thrilled her childhood best friend has returned to their hometown and is marrying her first love. But the former beauty queen and party planner extraordinaire hadn't anticipated being asked to work with her high school hate crush, Garrett Davenport, to plan their mutual best friends' wedding. Five years ago, they spent one incredible night together—a mistake she won't make again. But when her plans for partnership in her firm require her to work with Rett to renovate his grandmother's seaside cottage, it becomes much harder to ignore their complicated history.

Rett returned to Holly Grove Island to celebrate the upcoming marriage of his two closest friends. And when they require a minor miracle to pull off their sprint to the altar, Rett feels obligated to lend a hand. But when his grandmother cooks up a scheme for him and Sin to partner on the renovation of her seaside cottage, he can't say no to the woman who sacrificed so much for him. So what if he's had a killer crush on Sin since they were teens and he hasn't been able to get their night together out of his head? He just needs to stay focused and stick to the plan. Then he'll head off on his next journey.

But when it comes to Sinclair Buchanan, things are never quite that simple. And this time, they just might discover how wrong they've been about each other and how right they are together.

Release date: April 25, 2023

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 448

Sample

Chapter One

Sinclair Buchanan stood at the center of the banquet room at the Holly Grove Island Resort and glanced around, her chin propped on her fist. The frosted sea glass, seashells, and stunning photos of Holly Grove Island Beach, located in the Outer Banks, incorporated in the hotel’s decor created the perfect subtle beach vibe. She’d kicked the theme up a notch with streamers, swaths of fabric in coral, soft blue, and a brilliant turquoise, and beach-themed centerpieces for the tables.

The space looked good, but Sinclair needed it to be perfect.

They were celebrating the recent engagement of her two closest friends: Dakota Jones and Dexter Roberts. It’d taken seventeen long years, an inadvertent scandal, the revelation of long-held secrets, and a veritable miracle for the former high school sweethearts to find their way back to each other. But now that they had, Sinclair couldn’t be happier.

The momentous occasion required a proper celebration, so Sinclair had insisted on throwing an engagement party for her friends. Dexter’s and Dakota’s families had been a huge help, especially Dexter’s younger sister Emerie. But tonight, she wanted the families to enjoy their evening while she and the resort’s staff handled everything. All Sinclair needed to do was ensure that they stuck to her carefully laid-out schedule.

Early arrivals definitely weren’t on that list.

Still, Sinclair put on her biggest smile—honed during nearly two decades of participating in beauty pageants—and hugged Emerie; Dexter’s mother, Ms. Marilyn; Dakota’s father, retired police chief Oliver Jones; and his new bride, Lila Gayle, the beloved owner of the town’s café.

“What’re y’all doing here so early?” Sinclair gently scolded in her sweetest southern belle intonation. She propped one fist on her hip. “The party doesn’t begin for another hour.”

“Thought you might need a hand with some of the last-minute details,” Oliver said.

“We know you said you didn’t need any help, sweetheart, but there must be something we can do,” Ms. Marilyn added, glancing around.

“Told you.” Emerie grinned. “Sinclair Buchanan doesn’t leave anything to chance.”

“No, ma’am, I do not,” Sinclair said proudly. She clutched the black, leather-bound planner that contained her entire life: appointments, task and goal lists, and everything she needed to remember for tonight’s party. “We’re all set. So grab a drink from the bar, relax, and enjoy yourselves. I’ve got everything under control.”

Sinclair’s phone chimed with a video call from her mother. She excused herself to answer it. Her parents were in DC visiting her older sister Leanne and her husband Michael, who’d just had their third child.

“Hey, Mama.” Sinclair smiled. “How are Leanne and the baby?”

“Your sister is a pro at this point.” Her mother laughed, raking her fingers through her silvery white hair—a striking contrast to her olive skin, inherited from Sin’s Italian grandmother. “And as for your new niece.” She flipped her cell phone camera so Sinclair could see the sleeping infant her mother held in her arms. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

“She is,” Sinclair acknowledged with a smile. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

The adorable infant with tight, sleek curls plastered to her little head was even cuter than she’d been the last three times her mother had video called.

“But Dex and Dakota’s engagement party is in an hour, so—”

“Right, I forgot.” Her mother adjusted the phone so her face filled the screen again, her blue eyes sparkling. “Send Dexter and Dakota my love. And congratulate Oliver again. He must be so very happy that his baby girl is finally getting married.”

No hints there.

“I will, Mama. Now you have to see what I’ve done with the space.” Sinclair showed her mother the centerpieces she’d painstakingly designed and assembled. Gauzy, turquoise fabric was draped over the centers of the tables and topped with table runners made of twigs. White candles, perched above turquoise pearls floating in water in a glass container, were centered in a goldfish bowl filled with sand and a variety of beautiful seashells.

“That’s gorgeous, honey. You have such an eye for design,” her mother said. “If you ever get tired of selling real estate, I know you’d do well if you went back into interior design. Especially if you moved somewhere like DC.”

“Thanks, Mama, but I happen to love my job,” Sinclair said. “Now, let me show you what I’ve done with—”

“Maybe once your little party is over, you could drive down here to DC and spend a few days with us. Hold this adorable little one yourself. And according to your sister, Michael has some very handsome, very available colleagues at his lobbying firm.”

And there it was. The only thing left was for her mother to remind her that…

“You’re not getting any younger, sweetheart.”

Sinclair counted to ten in her head. A coping mechanism she’d developed to deal with the guilt her mother laid on her so masterfully since her mother’s heart attack more than a decade ago. It’d been the single most terrifying moment of Sinclair’s life. So despite Terri Buchanan’s gift for making Sinclair want to scream, she wouldn’t risk stressing out her easily excitable mother. Instead, she held her tongue and reminded herself how grateful she was to still have her mom when Dakota had lost hers to cancer six years ago.

It didn’t mean she couldn’t dish out a little well-deserved sass, though.

“I’m well aware of the status of my geriatric eggs, Mother. Thank you very much.” Sinclair turned up her southern twang just a notch. Something that irked her mother—a former English teacher and school principal. “And hard pass on Mikey’s lobbyist friends. Leanne tried to fix me up with one of them last time I visited. The man talked about himself, his bank account, his Ferrari, and his house in Barbados the entire time. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”

“You’re missing the point, sweetheart,” Terri said calmly. “Because all I’m hearing is that he checks off several items on your husband wish list.”

“Mother!” Sinclair glanced around the room, thankful Dakota’s and Dexter’s families were too far away to overhear the conversation. “We agreed never to talk about that list.”

Her mother had inadvertently seen the list Sinclair had scribbled in the back of her planner a few years ago. She’d written the list after consuming an entire bottle of pink Moscato and listening to a playlist of relationship-gone-wrong country music songs following a particularly devastating breakup. Terri Buchanan had been on a mission to find Sinclair the perfect husband ever since.

Her mother was right. Mr. Ferrari came close to checking off all of the financial components on the checklist. But he lacked the all-important characteristics: kindness, compassion, thoughtfulness, and being both family oriented and involved in the community.

Maybe Sinclair was swinging for the fences, but she wanted what she wanted. She made no apology for that.

Sin held on to the list, drafted during her pink Moscato-tinted breakup haze, because it was a powerful reminder. Trying to tame the quintessential bad boy was an exciting diversion. But never again would she make the mistake of giving her heart to a man who didn’t have serious potential as a life partner.

She’d wasted five years of her dating life on a man who would never grow up or settle down. Yet, within a year of their breakup, Teddy did, in fact, settle down with a woman Sinclair had once considered a close friend.

Her ex and former friend were still married and living in Wilmington. Earlier that year, they, too, had welcomed their third child.

Message received.

Sinclair would never waste her time on a man like that again. The kind of guy who was charming and loads of laughs, but never took anything seriously.

“Agreed is a strong word.” Her mother kissed Sinclair’s sleeping niece’s forehead. “I think I recall promising to try not to mention the list again.”

“Terri, leave Sinclair alone.” Her father’s deep baritone voice made her heart swell. “Let her live her life the way she wants.”

Her mother had shifted the screen toward her dad. He smiled at her, his white teeth gleaming against his dark brown skin. His Afro was cut lower and had grown a bit thinner on top.

“Thanks, Daddy.” Sinclair smiled.

“We know how busy you must be setting up for the party. So we’ll talk to you later. Love you, baby girl.”

“Love y’all.” Sin blew a kiss before ending the call.

Sinclair sucked in a deep breath and glanced around the room. She was thrilled for Dakota; she really was. But after nearly two decades away from Holly Grove Island, her friend had returned, and they’d quickly renewed their close friendship. Would their relationship become distant after her friend’s marriage, the way her and Leanne’s relationship had after her sister had gotten married and moved away?

Sin tried not to think about it. Or about the small piece of her that was the tiniest bit envious that her friends had found their happily-ever-after when hers was clearly MIA.

Dexter’s and Dakota’s families broke into raucous laughter over at the bar. Sin straightened her slumped shoulders and swallowed back the hint of sadness that had crept over her.

Control what you can.

It had been her mother’s mantra when Sinclair was on the pageant circuit, where she and Dakota had met as kids. She’d learned the fine art of holding her head high and smiling even when her world was on fire. She could certainly get over a tiny bout of self-pity. Tonight’s theme was love and family. She would focus on that and save the pity party for another day.

Sinclair stood tall and broadened her smile. Then she busied herself with something she could control. Ensuring that tonight’s party went off without a hitch.

*  *  *

“There really is no need for all this fuss. Land sakes, it’s just a trifling little cold and a touch of bronchitis,” Garrett Davenport’s grandmother griped as he handed her another cup of tea with honey and lemon. He laid one of her crocheted throw blankets over her lap. “You’re acting like I need to lay out my last will and testament. Spoiler alert: I spent all my money on the younger men I’ve encountered during my international travels.” Annamae Davenport shifted her eyebrows up and down and smirked.

“Seriously, Gram? I’m glad you’re enjoying your life, but I don’t need to hear about it with that level of detail.” Rett shook his head.

“I didn’t give you any details.” She grinned like the Cheshire Cat, then took a sip of her tea. “I save the good stuff for my girlfriends when we meet up at the senior center.”

His grandmother’s giggles sent her into another coughing fit. She pulled the blanket up over her chest and settled against the wingback chair a few feet from a small woodstove, which was older than he was. In fact, it might’ve even been older than his grandmother, who still had smooth, golden-brown skin at the age of eighty-two.

Mama Mae, a barely five-foot sprite, was as strong and independent a woman as he’d ever met. Though never short on opinions and incredibly direct, she was also loving and supportive. Yet, she didn’t pull punches. Because, as she often said, “Ain’t nobody got time for that.”

While he admired her independence, Rett wished his grandmother would let him know when she needed him. Today he’d returned to town for the engagement party of his cousin Dexter, who also happened to be his best friend, and found Mama Mae working in her raised garden bed despite a hacking cough.

He’d insisted that she get in the house, take a hot bath, then get to bed.

She’d insisted that the planting had to be done that day. It was supposed to rain for the next three days, and those tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, and pole beans weren’t going to plant themselves.

The only way he’d been able to get her to go inside was to promise to plant the three flats of vegetables himself. Once he’d planted everything according to Mama Mae’s strict instructions, Rett had taken a long, hot shower to soothe his aching muscles.

He was exhausted, but there was no rest for the weary. He had an engagement party to attend, which had begun a half hour ago.

“You’re sure you’ll be all right?” He eased into the chair opposite his grandmother. “I can stay, if you need me. Dex and Dakota would understand.”

“I’ll be fine, but thank you, sweetheart.” Mama Mae smiled. “And, Rett, I hope you realize how much I appreciate everything you do for me.”

“You know I do.” He squeezed her hand. “And you know you mean the world to me.”

“You’re such a sweetheart.” Mama Mae’s eyes shone. “A thoughtful, loving man like you shouldn’t still be alone.”

Rett groaned quietly. “I’m fine with things the way they are.”

“Maybe you are now. But what happens when you decide in five or ten years that you want a family, and all your little swimmers done dried up?”

“Gram! No.” Rett cringed, mortified. “We are not talking about the viability of my swimmers. Ever.”

Growing up, he’d been able to talk to his grandmother about nearly anything. But this was a conversation he refused to have even with her.

“Fine. Then you’d better get moving. You’re the best man. Don’t bode well for you to be showing up late to the engagement party. And don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” she added, with the cluck of her tongue before he could ask if she was sure.

Rett lumbered to his feet. “Can I bring you anything back?”

“Leftovers. Especially cake.” She grinned. “With lots of icing.”

Garrett made his way to his car and settled behind the wheel of the triple black 1969 GTO 400 four-speed that had once belonged to his grandfather. He’d spent the past few years restoring the car, and it was pristine. He turned the key, and the engine roared.

The party would be in full swing by now, but hopefully no one would notice he was a little late. Especially not the self-appointed mistress of ceremony.

Sinclair Buchanan.

Garrett groaned quietly. That name still filled him with equal parts fury and lust.

Did Sinclair still look good enough to eat, as she had when he’d last seen her five years ago?

It didn’t matter, because this time he wouldn’t give Sinclair Buchanan a second glance, no matter how fine she looked. An annoying, high-maintenance drama queen like Sinclair Buchanan was bad news. Besides, his pride was still bruised from their last encounter.

One he tried to forget, yet found himself reminiscing over…often.

Garrett pulled out of the driveway of his grandmother’s house on Hummingbird Way and headed toward the new Holly Grove Island Resort, where Dexter was the director of operations.

Rett wasn’t a fan of long-term commitment. He’d seldom seen it work out in his family. Still, he was happy for Dex and Dakota. Dex was a loyal friend who’d always had his back. So Rett was glad to see his cousin get his much-deserved happy ending.

Garrett found a spot in the parking lot, then headed inside, following the balloons and signage to the banquet room. He opened the door and quietly slipped inside, but he was immediately hailed by Nick Washington.

So much for an inconspicuous entrance.

“What’s up, Rett?” Nick gestured to a nearby seat. “You should sit with us.”

Nick was a few years younger than Rett, but he’d gotten to know him because Nick was friends with Dexter, whom he worked for at the resort. He was also Dexter’s younger sister Emerie’s best friend. Rett liked Nick, but he didn’t buy the whole thing about him and Em just being friends. But as long as Em was happy with the arrangement, he’d keep his opinions to himself.

The volume of Nick’s voice, the looseness of his limbs, and that damn goofy grin indicated he’d made his fair share of trips to the open bar. Rett planned to head there himself. He could use a stiff drink before he saw…

“Garrett Davenport, how very nice of you to finally show up.” Sinclair sashayed toward him, clutching a clear clipboard decorated with a colorful floral design.

Sinclair assessed him with disdain, flecks of green and gold dancing in those large hazel eyes he’d been mesmerized by from the first moment he’d laid eyes on them in high school. She pursed her glossy pink lips, her nostrils flaring, and planted a fist on one curvy hip.

The bossy little she-devil was infuriating, attitudish, and fucking gorgeous. And she damn well knew it.

Her floral, sleeveless dress showed off her toned arms and sculpted shoulders—a feature he’d never noticed on a woman before, let alone been attracted to. The hem of the flirty little skirt grazed her midthigh, accentuating her tawny brown skin, a shade that landed smack between her father’s dark brown skin and her mother’s olive skin tone.

Sinclair flipped her hair, a deep, rich brown highlighted with ribbons of honey blond, over one shoulder and ran her manicured nails through the waterfall of shoulder-length waves. Her gaze bored into him, and if looks could kill, he’d be lying on the floor stone cold.

“You do realize you’re an hour late to your own best friend’s engagement party.” She leaned into him, speaking in a harsh whisper that only he could hear. “You sure you gon’ be able to show up for the wedding on time?”

Her nasally voice reminded him of Whitley Gilbert’s from A Different World. And just a few minutes into the conversation, she’d already intimated that he was an unreliable slacker. Rett clenched his jaw. Yet, as annoyed as he was, he couldn’t help noticing how hot Sin looked tonight.

“Sorry I’m late,” Rett finally managed. He shoved his hands, balled into fists, into his pockets. “Something came up.”

Sinclair’s gaze dropped to the placket in front of his zipper momentarily. Her eyes widened and her cheeks and forehead flushed. She quickly returned her attention to the clipboard.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t forget their previous encounter.

“It’s always some excuse with you, Rett.” Sinclair wrapped her arms around the clipboard, clutching it to her chest. Her eyes didn’t quite meet his.

Was she clutching the clipboard because he made her nervous? Or was she shielding her body’s reaction after shamelessly ogling him two minutes into their conversation?

It didn’t matter. Because Sinclair Buchanan was as irritating now as she’d been when they’d been forced to hang out together while Dexter and Dakota had dated in high school. She seemed to hate him on sight back then. But he hadn’t helped matters when he’d tried to talk his cousin out of getting serious with Sin’s best friend.

When Dex had suddenly ended things with Dakota the Christmas after he’d left for college, Sinclair had confronted Rett outside his grandmother’s house. She’d been as mad as a hornet and had cussed him out six ways to Sunday—sure he’d been behind the breakup.

He hadn’t been. But he hadn’t bothered telling her so. Besides, as distraught as she’d been, he’d doubted Sinclair would’ve believed a single word he’d said.

Since Dexter and Dakota’s reconciliation, Sinclair must surely have learned the truth: he had nothing to do with Dexter and Dakota’s breakup back then. In fact, he’d been as shocked by it as anyone. But evidently, it didn’t matter, because Sinclair clearly still wasn’t a fan. Though she certainly had been that night in his hotel room, given the enthusiasm with which she’d called his name and the marks she’d left on his back.

“It’s not an excuse, Sin. I planned to be here on time, but I was sidetracked by—”

“Didn’t think you were going to make it.” Dexter approached, holding Dakota’s hand.

The two of them looked ridiculously happy, and Rett felt a slight twinge of envy.

“And miss your engagement party?” Rett slapped palms and clasped hands with Dex. “No way, cuz. Been waiting half my life to see you finally tie the knot with this beautiful lady.” He turned toward his cousin’s soon-to-be better half. “Congrats, Dakota.”

“Thank you, Rett.” Dakota’s grin lit her brown eyes. She gave him a big hug. “And for the record, I knew you’d be here tonight. It was these two who were sweating it.” She gestured toward Dex and Sinclair, then glanced around the room. “Mama Mae didn’t come with you?”

“She’s sick and didn’t much appreciate me fussing over her,” Rett said.

“But you did anyway.” Dakota smiled. “The relationship you two have is adorable.”

“’Cause Mama Mae is the only woman who can get him to behave,” Sinclair muttered as she scanned her clipboard. When they all turned to look at her, Sin looked up and shrugged. “What? You know it’s true.”

“Be nice, Sin.” Dakota pointed a finger at her best friend. “You promised you two would get along.”

“Fine.” She flashed Rett a dead-eyed smile and turned up the Whitley Gilbert singsong southern belle voice. “We are so very glad that you could join us this evening, Garrett. I was just about to ask the staff to take the food away. So please make yourself a plate.” She batted her long, thick eyelashes. “In fact, why don’t I escort you to the buffet?”

Dexter and Dakota snickered, and Rett couldn’t help chuckling to himself.

That was as warm a greeting as he could expect from the former beauty queen, who now employed that same charm in her job as one of the island’s top real estate agents. Evidently, she reserved that charm for people not named Rett Davenport.

Sinclair turned and walked toward the buffet, indicating that he should come with. He did, captivated by the subtle sway of her hips as he followed in the wake of her soft, delicate scent. All of it taking him back to that night they’d shared in Raleigh five years ago.

Yes, he’d been an immature jerk to Sinclair in high school. She clearly still held a grudge and had no intentions of letting him forget it. Despite the night they’d shared.

Fine. Because he wasn’t here for Sinclair. He was here for Dexter and Dakota. For them, he’d tolerate Ms. Thing. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun with her.

Chapter Two

Sinclair set her clipboard on the buffet and picked up a plate and a set of silverware. She thrust both toward Garrett as he stared at her blankly. “You didn’t think I was going to make your plate for you, too, did you?”

Rett shifted his dark gaze from hers and accepted the items. He turned toward the buffet. “What’s on the menu?”

Sinclair waved a hand toward the row of warming trays. “Stuffed mushrooms, deviled eggs, a mouth-watering lasagna, spicy, delicious meatballs, and shrimp kebabs. On the dessert table, there’s champagne punch, mini berry tartlets, chocolate mousse, and, of course, Dakota’s favorite—lemon meringue pie.”

When Sinclair returned her attention to Garrett, his dark eyes were filled with heat and longing. A shudder rippled down her spine. She shifted her gaze from his and swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry.

Why did those mischievous dark eyes and full, smirking lips get her every single time? Rett was tall and handsome. His smooth dark brown skin looked flawless. His low-cut hair, neat lineup, and freshly trimmed beard looked like he’d just stepped out of a barber’s chair. The navy blazer and navy pants he wore hung on his large frame like they were made for it. His white shirt hugged his broad chest. And he smelled like soap.

Sinclair clutched her trusty clipboard like a shield, protecting her from the sizzling heat of Garrett Davenport’s stare. His hungry look turned her insides to molten lava. And the moment Garrett had raked his eyes over her, she’d regretted wearing a dress made of such thin, gauzy material and skipping the padded bra.

“I’ll give you time to eat. Then maybe we can get back on schedule. I put a lot of effort into planning the perfect night for Dakota and Dexter. You’ve completely ruined my agenda.”

“Sorry about that, Sin.” Rett sounded sincere. He set his plate down and shoved his hands in his pockets again. This time, she willed her eyes not to drop to where the fabric stretched across the front of his pants, offering a hint of what lay beneath.

At least, she’d learned from her earlier mistake.

Who knew that her big-headed nemesis would turn out to be so heartbreakingly handsome, thick-thighed, and luscious-looking? It honestly wasn’t fair.

The way Rett had teased and tormented her in high school, she would’ve expected him to have scales, grown horns and a tail, and be wielding a pitchfork.

“The delay couldn’t be helped. But you’ve done an amazing job tonight. Everything looks terrific, and everyone seems happy. Maybe you could just re—”

“Don’t you dare tell me to relax, Garrett Davenport.” Sinclair shook a finger at him.

A man telling her to relax was one of her ultimate pet peeves. As if she were a hysterical “little lady” who needed some big, strong man to come along and handle everything for her.

No thanks.

She could handle just about any situation herself just fine. Sin just needed the ridiculously handsome and annoyingly smug Garrett Davenport to do the bare minimum as the best man. Why couldn’t he have the decency to be on time for the party she’d spent the past few weeks planning?

Because he was selfish, self-centered, and never took anything seriously. That’s why. Why would she expect anything more?

One moment, she was dreamily taking him in. The next, he’d open his mouth and say something that would inevitably take her out of the fantasy of Garrett Davenport and bring her back to the reality of him.

“All I’m saying is you seem stressed. You put so much pressure on yourself to make things perfect.” Garrett glanced around the room. “From where I’m standing, you’ve done just that, so cut yourself some slack.”

That was surprisingly nice of him to say.

“Thank you.” Sinclair frowned warily. Given their antagonistic history, where she’d given as good as she’d gotten, she felt more comfortable when they were at odds than when Rett was being complimentary. Kind words coming from those sensual lips felt like a Trojan horse meant to catch her off guard. “But I should check on the guests and get ready for the next activity.”

He lightly grasped her wrist and leaned in close. His clean, crisp scent triggered memories of that night in Raleigh that she regretted immensely, yet frequently fantasized about.

A mischievous grin lit his dark eyes. “You look gorgeous, Sin. And you smell incredible.”

Sin’s breath hitched, and her wrist tingled beneath Rett’s touch. He’d whispered those words in her ear five years ago when he’d brashly suggested that he could help her work out the stress she was feeling prior to their big real estate test.

She’d elbowed him in the gut and told Rett Davenport exactly where he could stick his offer. But later that night, after a couple of drinks to build her courage, Sinclair had shown up at Rett’s hotel room and taken him up on the offer.

And it had been amazing.

No way. No how. Just…no. Don’t you dare think about it.

Sin thanked him for the compliment, then pulled free of his grip and walked away.

Hooking up with Rett again would be a disaster—no matter how amazing the man happened to be in bed.

An hour in the sack and you’ll never get your self-respect back.

She could still hear her grandmother’s save-yourself-for-marriage speech in her head.

Sinclair loved her grandmother, but she didn’t share her views. Women should be empowered to make their own choices. And yet, when it came to Garrett Davenport, maybe her grandmother had been spot-on.

*  *  *

Rett’s eyes followed Sinclair as she hurried away from him, as if that luscious, curvy ass of hers were on fire. Despite the hell she’d given him for being late, there was obviously still something brewing quietly between them.

He could feel it, and it was evident she could, too. The dilation of her pupils. The way her breathing became shallow. The pretty flush across the bridge of her adorable nose and cheeks. Then there was his personal favorite: the way those nipples, which he remembered with precise detail—had poked through the thin fabric of her dress.

Sinclair was gorgeous. And she smelled as enticing as she had that night. Like hibiscus flowers and coconut, mixed with a healthy dose of sunshine and the salt water of the beach. In a word, Sinclair had smelled like home.

The heat in her eyes when she’d glared at him was unmistakable. He imagined she’d seen the same in his.

Garrett loaded food onto his plate. He’d hardly eaten all day, and working in the garden had made him ravenous.

He glanced over at Sin and couldn’t help remembering the softness of her bare skin and the taste of her warm mouth. How she’d whispered, then screamed, his name. Rett shut his eyes against the shudder of pleasure that rolled down his spine. He groaned quietly.

Food wasn’t the only thing he was ravenous for tonight.

His night with Sin had been incredible. The connection they’d shared was one he’d begun to think himself incapable of. It wasn’t just physical: two people having a little fun. It felt…deeply meaningful, in a way he couldn’t quite explain and still didn’t fully understand. Despite all of the reasons why he knew they should never hook