“All. Day. Long,” she says in a husky voice so sexy I can’t resist swooping her up for a hug that ends in another ass grab. God, I love her ass.
“Put me down.” She giggles and clings tighter to my neck.
“Only if you’ll race me to the lifeguard stand,” I say, loving the feel of her close and wanting her even closer.
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, but we both know you’ll win.”
“We’re both going to win, baby,” I say with a wink as I set her on her feet. “No doubt in my mind.”
Maddie grins and takes off across the sand at a jog with me in hot pursuit.
Chapter Eight
Maddie
I have never kept a secret from my sister.
Not once in my entire nearly thirty years of life.
Naomi and I have been tight since the day I was born. I grew up idolizing her and was her number one fan long before she became a celebrity chef with her own TV show and a multimillion-dollar line of gourmet products.
I share everything with Naomi: hopes, dreams, heartaches, a business—even our extensive shoe collection.
In other words, I have no idea how I’m going to keep my relationship with Jamison a secret from my big sis, but I’m determined to try. I don’t want to cross the Telling-My-Family-I’m-Dating-Jamison bridge until I’m sure the relationship’s going to last longer than a few weeks.
Though if I’m honest, it’s hard to imagine calling things off any time soon.
Even if Jamison were to suddenly turn into an insufferable jerk—which I doubt will happen; he’s a handful, not an asshole—I’d stick around for a few months for the sex alone.
The sex is…Uh-Maze-Zing.
I had my share of passionate young lovers while I was studying in Paris, and I was satisfied with the quality, if not the quantity, of my sex life with Serge. But nothing in my personal history prepared me for the mind-and-body-blowing experience of being with Jamison. The connection is so intense it demands nothing less than complete abandon.
Even stone-cold sober, in the harsh light of day, the moment he touches me I lose every last one of my inhibitions and probably a piece of my right mind. One heated look and I’m ready to get naked and shameless. So far, we’ve had sex in the ocean, in a tent with people just a few feet away, in a deserted lifeguard stand on a public beach, and in the closed bakery after Jamison caught a ride back to Bliss River with my friends after the retreat.
I was secretly relieved that he asked to tag along. It ensured I wasn’t pressured to debrief the girls on my steamy weekend. I adore Shelley, Dawn, and Piper, but I don’t want to share what happened with Jamison with anyone but Jamison.
When I’m with him, it’s…special. It would feel like a betrayal to dish private details, even with people I care about as much as my oldest friends.
The only person I would even consider telling is Naomi—she’s a vault and gives great advice—but this time around my sister is absolutely off-limits.
Off limits, off limits, off limits. I repeat the words like a mantra as I open Icing Monday morning, catching up on a few special orders and whipping up enough cookies, pastries, and miniature sourdough and multi-grain loaves to satisfy the weekday crowd.
By the time Naomi shows up a little after ten, my resolve is set like fast-drying concrete, which is a good thing, considering the first words out of my sister’s mouth threaten to send my defenses tumbling down.
“Why didn’t you tell me Jamison was going on the retreat, too?” Naomi asks, yawning as she shuffles behind the counter of the momentarily customer-free bakery to snag her apron off its hook.
“What?” I blink and laugh a little too brightly.
“Jake said Jamison went on a singles’ camping trip to Myrtle Beach last weekend. I figured it had to be the same one.” She pulls her caramel-streaked brown hair into a high ponytail before turning to wash her hands in the sink across from the display counter. In a pair of faded jeans and a tight red T-shirt she looks adorable, but less put together than usual, a side effect, no-doubt, of having an infant in the house. “Did you see him while you were there?”
“Oh, yeah, I did.” I focus on rearranging the bread behind the counter, combining the loaves into fewer baskets now that the morning rush has passed. “But I didn’t know he was going to be there. We were both surprised.”
Boy were we surprised.
Surprised by how many times we managed to have mind-blowing sex in a mere forty-eight hours…
“So, did you have a good time? Meet anyone nice?” She yawns again. “Jamison didn’t cramp your style, did he?”
“No, he was fine, and I had fun with the girls.” I hurry to change the subject. “Did you have another rough night with the baby? You seem pretty beat.”
Her adopted daughter, Noelle, came home from the NICU six weeks ago, but the preemie is still struggling to put on weight and wakes up several times a night to take a bottle.
Naomi smiles. “She woke up to eat four times last night. If she keeps this up, she’s going to catch up to the non-preemies in no time.”
“That’s great,” I say, relieved to hear it. “I can’t wait until she has fat rolls all over her thighs. Baby fat rolls are the cutest.”
“They are.” She rolls her eyes. “Too bad mine aren’t. Since Noelle came home from the hospital, I’ve been seriously neglecting the cardio. I have to watch the cookies for the next three weeks or I’ll have to let out my wedding dress before the wedding.”
“Does that mean I’m not allowed to make salted caramel bars?” I tease. “Because I had those on the agenda for this afternoon.”
“You shouldn’t have told me!” She groans. “You know I can’t resist salted caramel bars. Make them, but only let me have one and don’t cook anything else yummy until after the wedding.”
“That should be good for business,” I say dryly.
“Whatever.” She laughs. “We were in the black less than five months after opening. Do you know how rare that is? Seriously, we’re going to be fine. I’m predicting a banner summer and holiday season to follow.”
Moments later the bell above the door tinkles and the early lunch crowd begins to trickle in, followed by the stroller mom coffee rush, and the after-school cookie frenzy.
Five hours later, I’m feeling pretty beat myself. Still, I know Naomi’s in worse shape. Not only was she up and down with Noelle all night, she’s also been doing more than her fair share at work lately, too. Our counter girl, Lucy, is out with a twisted ankle and Aria, our third business partner, is on maternity leave.
“You want to head home and grab a nap before Greta leaves for the day?” I ask. “I can make it until closing time alone.”
Greta is Naomi’s nanny, but she only watches Noelle when Jake and Naomi are both at work. Naomi could afford a legion of nannies, but she doesn’t want to give up a moment with her new daughter, not even the moments that leave her exhausted.
“That would probably be a good idea,” she says, sighing as she stretches her neck to one side and then the other. “Jake’s at the station for the next two days, so I’ll be doing the night feedings solo. I need to grab my rest when I can get it.”