FAKE IT ’TIL YOU FEEL IT

A SMALL TOWN, FRIENDS TO LOVERS ROMANCE

HILLY KEEN

Copyright © 2025 by Hilly Keen

Editor: Karen Washo, Utterly Unashamed, LLC

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

FAKE IT ’TIL YOU FEEL IT

She needs a boyfriend to throw off her ex. He needs a buffer for his stepbrother’s wedding. Will the friendship between a commitment-shy entrepreneur and her clumsy coworker survive one tiny little case of fake-dating?

Ivy

I don’t have the time, want, or need for a new man in my life. Not that anyone could ever compare to my best guy friend. Who else would pose as my devoted boyfriend to help me out of a sticky situation? Mars’ willingness to step up and show my ex what a real—I mean fake—relationship should look like tops the list of what makes him one of my favorite people. This arrangement would be perfect if I could stop kissing him...and get the sight of him in his wetsuit out of my head.

Mars

My stepbrother’s wedding is coming up and Ivy owes me. Not that I would’ve ever turned down her fake-relationship scheme—I scratch her back, she scratches mine. And since there’s only one bed at this wedding, that’ll be a whole lot easier. The real challenge will be convincing her we were never just friends.

If you love a creative cinnamon roll who doesn’t want to be friends anymore, and a strong woman who thinks she has everything under control, you’ll adore this high-heat, friends-to-lovers office romance.

“Fake It ’Til You Feel It” is part of the Work For It series, where members of Wavecrest’s The Base become more than just coworkers. Each book in this series of small town, steamy, low angst stories can be read as a standalone and features a satisfying happy ever after.

CONTENT NOTE

Dear Reader,

Each story in the Hillyverse features on-page, open-door intimacy between the two main characters. Also, there’s usually a ton of cussing…just oodles and oodles of it.

If scenes of alcohol consumption aren’t your cup of tea (har har), these books might not be for you.

Fake It ’til You Feel It, specifically, contains the following:

A difficult, toxic relationship with a character’s step-parent

For the people with hard candy shells, and the people who love them.

Sometimes it takes a klutz to break through to the gooey center.

CONTENTS

1.  Mess With the Unicorn, Get the Horn

2.  Post-Mortems and Other Fun Friend Activities

3.  This Meeting Could've Been an Email

4.  That Wetsuit is a Weapon of Mass Distraction

5.  Just Go With It

6.  Everybody's a Critic

7.  Stay on Your Toes and Kiss Me

8.  Bonfire Confessions and Questionable Decisions

9.  Committing to the Bit

10.  Getting Over the Hump...In Bed

11.  Best Wedding Date Ever

12.  New Ways to Say Thank You

13.  Those Weren't Coyotes You Heard

14.  Pencil Me In For More Meetings On This Topic

15.  Accidental Kisses

16.  It's Not About the House Key

17.  Changing the Rules of the Game

18.  I Guess We're Doing This in Front of an Audience

Epilogue

About the Author

CHAPTER 1

MESS WITH THE UNICORN, GET THE HORN

MARS

Nobody expects an inflatable unicorn to the face. And yet…here I am. It’s not the unicorn’s fault—it’s never the unicorn’s fault. The Base anniversary party kicked off a couple hours ago, I’ve had one beer—one!—and I’ve already tripped over my own feet twice.

Luckily, I didn’t catch a vinyl horn to the eye, but Stuart really should’ve put caution tape around these things. My coworking space’s office manager, and party organizer, went all out with the decorations, but I can’t figure out where the six-foot-tall unicorns factor in.

The inflatable has one of those weeble wobble bottoms so I don’t have to pick it back up after tripping into it. Thank heavens, because that would be undignified.

It’s still early, and I haven’t gotten the chance to talk with Ivy yet, but I can't wait to show her the welt the unicorn left on my face. We keep missing each other as we move around the room, chatting with coworkers and Wavecrest locals, grazing at the food table, and puzzling over Stuart’s design choices.

My unwritten goal for the evening is to spend time with Ivy while wearing fancy clothes, something we’ve never done. Tonight she’s been hard to miss in her elegant, midnight blue dress that accentuates her tall, lithe body.

Fuck, I really shouldn’t be thinking about Ivy’s body. We’re friends—good friends—but nothing more. She’d punch me in the throat if she knew some of the thoughts I’ve had about her. Shower thoughts which feature her wrapped around me, her soft breasts pressed to my chest, her long legs holding me to her while I fill her. Fuck.

I choke on a gulp of beer, failing to cool myself down. Stuart smacks me on the back as he walks by, and I thank him with a raise of my glass.

I spend some time mingling with my other coworkers to distract myself from thoughts of Ivy. Over the past few months I’ve grown close with this group of people, who are all smart and interesting in wildly different ways. Engineers and graphic designers. Executives and writers. Our conversation flows through random topics and lands on our coworker, Carla, talking about the ballroom we’re standing in.

Carla’s showing our little group pics of her daughter’s wedding which was held here at the resort. “She met her husband when he tripped over her feet at the beach trying to catch a frisbee.”

I don’t miss how everybody’s eyes turn to me, and I have to laugh. “Okay, I get it. I’m glad to know I’m not the only klutz in town.”

Carla squeezes my arm fondly. “Who knows, maybe you’ll meet the love of your life the same way.” Instinctively, my eyes seek out Ivy across the room.

THE DJ IS PLAYING A TRULY weird mix of music, but he finally settles on a slow song. Watching happy couples and aspiring couples and about-to-regret-their decisions couples out on the dance floor, I pull a pen from my inside pocket.

I’ve always been a doodler. The margins of my homework and class notes were covered in animals, people, trees, and random geometric shapes. In college, I turned the habit into a paying gig, drawing daily cartoons for the campus newspaper.

It morphed into my job now, marketing director and graphic designer for a small skateboard company. I get to use my cartoon drawing skills to create illustrations for skateboards and other merchandise like T-shirts and hoodies.

I’m never without my fineliner pen, and there’s always something to draw on—a napkin, a receipt, or a stray scrap of paper. It’s how I calm my mind and ease my way into social situations.

I’m sketching one of the offending unicorns on a cocktail napkin when someone plops down in the seat next to me and lets out a tired sigh. Ivy. My heart kicks into my throat, and my hand almost gives the unicorn a second horn.

“Mars,” Ivy whines like a toddler. “I can’t dance to this.” I finally look over at her and let out a laugh. She grins at me, knowing she’s being a pest. She’s using her pay attention to me voice that comes out when she’s had more than one drink.

“You don’t know how to dance? That’s sad for someone who looks so pretty in her fancy dress.” I know it'll irk her, but I can’t stop myself from teasing her. Ivy thrives on being competent in all things, so telling her she can’t do something is asking for trouble. Plus, I get to watch a blush light up her cheeks.

I’ve only known her officially a few months, since she joined The Base a couple weeks after I did. We bonded over our shared newness, but I’d seen her around town before that.

The first time was when I almost hit the side of her car while on my skateboard. That got my heart going, and not just because my life flashed before my eyes.

We both ended up at the coworking space, her sitting a couple desks away, facing me. In the months since, I filled a whole sketchbook with her face. Maybe not surprising considering how gorgeous she is. Tall, only a couple inches shorter than me, with strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes. Ivy Lowenstein’s face was made for an artist’s canvas.

And I’m the lucky schmuck who gets to be her friend. She kind of adopted me the first time I broke the coffee maker at work. She came up to me and patted me on the shoulder. “Does somebody have a case of the Mondays?”

I laughed. “It’s Wednesday.”

“Yeah, but sometimes it’s a whole week of Mondays. Come on, you can make it up to everyone. Let’s go on a coffee run.”

We took people’s orders and walked to the local coffee shop, chatting the whole time. Boom. That’s it. Ivy was my friend. I bet she was one of those kids who would walk up to another kid at the park and say, “Want to be my friend?” and mean it.

In this moment though, she’s frowning at the DJ, and it’s fucking adorable. “We were all having a good time with the dance music, but then he slowed it down.” She crosses her arms in a huff.

I don’t know what the hell comes over me, but like a man possessed by the spirit of someone much more suave than me, like Remington Steele, I say, “Dance with me.” I stand and hold out my hand to her.

“You want to dance…with me?” Desperately, yes. Her eyes dart between my hand and my face.

“Don’t let the slow music defeat you, Ivy.” We once did a game night at our friend Joanie’s place, and I thought Ivy was going to flip the table when she lost a game of Connect 4. I know I’ve got her.

She unfolds her willowy frame from the chair, runs her hands down her form fitting dress, and takes my hand. I’m distracted by the electric current racing from my fingers to my heart to my cheeks, and I stumble a little leading her to the dance floor. Ivy’s giggle lights me up.

A song by First Aid Kit starts as I draw her into my arms. I keep a respectable distance between us, but everything in me wants to bring her closer so I can feel how well her subtle curves align with my body. The simple touch of my hand on her hip makes my fingers flex. They want to grab on and never let go.

With one hand gently on her back and the other holding hers, we start to move. “Where’d you learn to dance?” she asks.

“YouTube, mostly.” That earns me another laugh. “Had to learn for my dad and stepmom’s wedding. It was a requirement, and we had to dance for every subsequent vow renewal ceremony.”

“How many have there been?” She tilts her head and gives me a curious look.

“I’ve lost track, but it happens every few years. I’m starting to suspect Susan starts planning one every time my dad makes noise about wanting to go to couples therapy.”

“How...unfortunate.” Ivy tries her best to be diplomatic, but I can tell it’s a struggle. “I do love a wedding though. Even when I don’t know anyone. Other than the airport, it’s the best place for people watching.” I scrunch up my face.

“What, you don’t like weddings? Or is that face for airports?”

“Both?” Someone behind me stumbles into my back, and I end up stepping on Ivy’s toes. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” She winces but shakes her head.

“It’s okay. I’m fine.”

I accepted a long time ago that I'm an incurable klutz. My teen years were filled with painful embarrassment, but I eventually grew out of it. But when I step on toes or accidentally spill someone else’s drink, the old embarrassment comes back. As long as the bruises and dry cleaning bill are my own, I’m fine. But the small moment of pain on Ivy’s face makes the acid in my stomach turn.

Ivy gives me a reassuring pat on my shoulder, bringing me out of the mortification spiral I was about to fall into. “Really, Mars. I’m fine. Keep dancing.”

I peek down at her shoes. Open-toed and sparkly. The heel brings her up a couple of inches, so we’re eye to eye. I like that we’re on the same level. That I don’t have to hunch when she gives me a spontaneous hug.

What else lines up? Knee to knee? Chest to chest? Her softness to my hard? My cock to what I’ve imagined a thousand times to be the prettiest pussy in the world.

The thought of us being perfectly aligned makes me stumble again, this time stepping on her other foot. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Mars, relax. I agreed to dance with you knowing exactly what I was getting into.” She smiles at me. “It’s to be expected after having a few beers, right?”

“Right.” I've only had one beer. I’m not even close to buzzed. Maybe I’d be less of a disaster with more alcohol in my system. Ivy’s got some social lubrication going on. She can handle her liquor, from what I’ve seen whenever we go to the local bar, Foggy’s. But there’s a bright flush on her cheeks, and she’s sporting a perma-grin—a sure sign she’s had more than three glasses of her favorite drink, a martini.

The song changes but remains slow. Stuart and his girlfriend, Meredith, dance close to us, and Stuart’s shoulder brushes Ivy’s, sending her stumbling into me. So the third time I step on her foot is absolutely not my fault. It doesn’t matter though, because she winces, and my stomach knots. Again.

To avoid any more accidental run-ins, I bring her in a little closer and spend a small moment living in the smell of her shampoo. My head spins with the citrusy scent of her.

She sighs and leans her cheek on my shoulder, her body relaxing against mine. “Hmm, you make a great pillow,” she says in a tired, tipsy voice.

“Thanks, I’ll add it to my LinkedIn profile.” I laugh.

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to get to sleep tonight.” Her head shakes against my shoulder. I pull back to look at her. “Whenever I’ve been out socializing, my brain does this weird thing where I have to review everything that happened or I’ll never fall asleep. It’s like I have to put together a mental scrapbook.”

“I have this image of you holding up scorecards like a gymnastics judge. ‘Food, nine point three. Marked down for small portions.’”

She giggles. “Yeah, something like that.”

The toe of my shoe brushes her bare toes, but I pull back before I can fully crush her foot. Again. She gives me a small smile letting me know she misses nothing.

IVY

Poor Mars. Always poor Mars. I don’t know if his reputation as a klutz is well earned, but it’s there. We all trip or break stuff, but for some reason he’s That Guy at the office.

But dancing with him is…more than I expected. He’s easy going and quiet compared to my brusque style. And he smells nice. Even when he’s not surfing, he smells like sea air and bonfires on the beach. It’d probably be out of bounds to shove my nose against his neck while we’re dancing, although it’s more like lazily swaying at this point.

Maybe I can play it off like I stumbled. I mean, I’ve had enough to drink to play havoc on my senses. That’s probably why his hand feels so warm and nice on my back. Tingles and sparks dance where he touches me, even through the fabric of my dress.

The music picks up in tempo, and Mars guides me to the edge of the dance floor. “I’m going to spare you further injury. I don’t think you want me so close to your poor toes with this heavy beat.” But I wouldn’t mind you close to other things.

I don’t know where the hell the thought came from, but it’s not welcome inside my head. Mars equals friend. Mars does not equal hot guy who smells nice. I mean, he does, but that’s not how I want to see him. Yeah, I’ve been paying attention. It’s hard not to when he’s so damn snackable.

My brain has obviously fallen victim to the cocktails—Mars is right about me needing to get off the dance floor. I drop into a chair and prop an elbow on the table.

“Don’t move,” Mars commands and damn if a shiver doesn’t run down my spine as I watch him walk to the bar and ask the bartender for something. He shed his suit jacket a while ago, so I get to have a nice long look at Mars’ tuchus. It’s a nice one. I wonder if I’d have an ass like his if I started surfing.

I give myself a little shake. Whenever we hang with our group of friends, objectifying Mars has become a sure sign it’s time to call it a night. But I’m having so much fun, what with the dancing and the chatting and the unicorns, I’m not willing to leave yet.

Mars gently places a glass of water in front of me. No ice. Like how I ask for it whenever I’m out to eat. Huh.

“Drink up.” With me sitting down, he towers over me. Mars looks nice from this vantage point, and I wonder if he has any bad angles. I’m about to ask him when someone interrupts.

“Hey Mars, someone said you’re a surfer. Can I pick your brain about boards?” Miri, a newer Base member, puts her hand on Mars’ elbow, and I don’t like it. Couldn’t tell you why I don’t like it, so I’ll have to get back to you on that subject.

Mars, being the kind, helpful guy he always is, begins asking Miri if she’s a longboard or shortboard surfer and telling her about the best surfboard makers. He sounds like he knows what he’s talking about as they wander off to a quieter corner and leave me stuck here in my chair. I mean, not stuck. I can leave any time I want. But I’m determined to be cranky about something, and Mars abandoning me at this table fits the bill.

I don’t see much of him for the rest of the evening. Couldn’t tell you why I’m watching him like a hawk to see if he dances with anybody else when I spot him across the room, laughing with Stuart. His smile is contagious, even when it’s not aimed at me, and I find my face breaking into a grin.

My attention snags on Joanie stumbling out of the photo booth in the corner, looking a little disheveled as Colin stumbles out behind her. That’s so happening tonight. I’m surprised there’s no office bet on when those two will finally hook up.

Tired of my own company, I abandon my spot at the table and wander around the perimeter of the ballroom. This party is nuts. It’s like getting a rare glimpse inside Stuart’s fever dreams, only with good catering.

How Meredith and he got together I will never understand. If she’d organized this party, we’d be enveloped in her little black cloud existence and listening to every album by The Smiths.

The evening starts winding down. I’m ready to go home now and burn these shoes. Between their non-existent arch support and Mars’ wandering feet, my dogs are barking.

But Mars is off somewhere, probably saving a kitten, or jumpstarting someone’s car, or shining his…Marsness on someone else, and he’s not here to help me come down from all the socializing. I’m irrationally cranky that I can’t immediately find him.

Stuart and Colin are battling with some of the larger decorations as attendees begin trickling out of the ballroom, off to live out whatever poor decisions people make after a big party.

I want to make bad decisions with someone. It’s been months since I’ve slept with anyone, and I’m wound a little tight. I don’t know why a vision of Mars, my friend with a capital F flashes through my head. That almost never happens. I’m lying. Only when I’ve been drinking. Or not.

If I can’t wrap up the night with him, my other work friends will have to do. I plop down next to Joanie and Meredith to watch the boys clean up. I kick off my shoes and groan.

“Fuck, my feet are toast.” I wiggle my toes, trying to get the blood flow back. “Mars stepped on them at least three times when we were dancing.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize my mistake.

I should’ve known that little nugget would get the wolves circling. The wolves being two of my new and cool friends.

Meredith’s face takes on an evil gleeful kind of look as she leans past Joanie. That look makes me question my choice in friends. “Slow dancing?” she asks, drawing out the question. I feel the blood rush to my face.

Joanie stares at me like she’s about to write me into one of her romance stories. “Fascinating,” she says. I don’t blame her. She’s probably trying to deflect attention off her canoodling with Colin. They’re about to start something; we can all see it. And she wants to take people over the cliff with her.

“I’d tease you back, but honestly you scare me a little,” I say to Meredith.

“Good.” Meredith gives me a wink and sits back in her chair with a satisfied smirk.

The two toss tired jokes back and forth, but their focus remains on their men. Joanie won’t admit it yet, but Colin is hers, and Meredith looks at Stuart like he’s her favorite puppy.

I wonder what that kind of affection and love for someone feels like, to be confident in your relationship.

I sniffle, probably because the room has grown cold without so many bodies in it. I’ve never had what Meredith and Stuart, or The Base’s owner Sylvie and her husband, or the handful of obviously in love couples I saw tonight have.

My relationship history is filled with a string of disappointing boyfriends who all ended up letting me down in one way or another.

But good for these women. They get to go home with solid partners who obviously adore them without being intimidated by their success. I curl my fingers into the palm of my hand to keep the smile on my face and the tears at bay.

New rule— two drink maximum. This alcohol induced introspection thing is bullshit.

More people trickle out the door, and I watch them go, but my eyes keep looking for Mars. While Joanie and Meredith debate whether Stuart should be allowed to plan the next party without supervision, a small pit of tension grows in my stomach. Did Mars leave? Was he alone?

I finally spot him chatting with another coworker, laughing easily. The feeling of relief annoys me as much as it eases the tension that was building in my chest.

This night is beyond over for me. I say my goodbyes, pick up my shoes, and head for the door, not wanting to interrupt Mars’ conversation.

Something on one of the large round tables catches my eye. It’s the little drawing of an inflatable unicorn Mars did. Before I can think about it, I snatch it up and tuck it in my clutch.

“Hey Ivy, wait up,” Mars calls from behind me as I make it to the lobby of the Cliffside Resort. Warmth shoots up my chest to my cheeks, chased by a little wave of pleasure.

I give him a tired smile, taking a moment to appreciate all over again how his dress shirt fits his trim, broad shouldered frame perfectly. “Hey, I was going to catch a cab home.”

“Before giving me your thoughts on...all of that?” He tilts his head back at the ballroom, tucks his hands in his pockets, and rocks back on his heels. His teasing grin brings out one of my own.

I gesture to a group of seating in the hotel’s lobby, and he puts a hand on my lower back to guide me over. There goes that localized cluster of sparks again, radiating from where his hand barely touches me.

I sit heavily on a loveseat with a sigh, not sure I’ll ever get back up. I’ve hit the end-of-night wall. Mars sits down next to me and my head automatically goes to his shoulder. I could live here, surrounded by his sea air smell and his perfectly shaped shoulder.

He chuckles. “Tired?”

I nod against his shoulder. “That was a lot of socializing.”

“You’re not wrong. Okay, let’s break this down. Food?”

“Great, even if the combo of appetizers was...outside-the-box thinking.”

“Spoken like a true entrepreneur. Agreed. Music?”

“More outside-the-box thinking, but I enjoyed it.” I swallow hard. “Especially the slow songs.” I really liked that part.

He huffs out a laugh and rests his head against the top of mine. “Funny, because someone I know was complaining about them before she was shown some of the best dance moves ever performed in that ballroom.”

Throwing my head back in a laugh, I pat his hand where it rests on his thigh. His very nice thigh. “Sure, Mars.”

I can feel my eyes growing heavy. We need to wrap this up or I’m going to fall asleep right here.

“Decorations?” I ask.

“Honestly, I only really noticed the inflatable unicorns, and that’s because one attacked me.” He lets out a little self-deprecating laugh.

“Next time point it out to me so I can beat it up. Nobody attacks my friend and gets away with it.”

He hums and rubs his cheek against the top of my head. I snuggle even further into his shoulder. “Thanks for defending my honor.” We sit in silence for a handful of moments, my limbs growing heavier and heavier. “Come on, Ives, let’s get you home.” He pats my leg and begins to stand.

I sit myself upright, tamping down the disappointment from him taking his shoulder away. Mars holds his hand out to help me out of this overstuffed loveseat. I ignore the zing of...whatever...that races up my arm and across my chest. A mighty yawn escapes my mouth along with an embarrassing squeak.

Mars is kind enough not to comment on it, but his smile widens. We stumble our way out of the hotel lobby, and I’m grateful there are still a few cabs idling outside. He leads me to the front of the line and opens the car door for me. Such a gentleman.

Before I duck into the cab, I do something I’ve never done before. I lean up and kiss him quickly on the cheek. “Thanks for the dances…and the shoulder.” I dip into the cab and close the door before I can question why I did that.

Glancing out the window as the cab pulls away, I catch Mars giving me a hesitant wave. Whatever, it was only a friendly peck. No big deal. Oh, Ivy, you’re in so much trouble...

MARS

I’m not sure yet, but it is possible I’m totally fucked.

CHAPTER 2

POST-MORTEMS AND OTHER FUN FRIEND ACTIVITIES

IVY

We’ve begun calling it The Post-Mortem. After the anniversary party weeks ago, Mars and I started analyzing every gathering. He knows it helps me decompress, but I’m not sure what he gets out of it.

It’s become our little tradition, and now my social evenings wouldn’t be complete without it. Our work and friend groups have a lot of overlap, and there seems to be a never-ending string of get-togethers and events.

Moving to Wavecrest might be the best decision I’ve ever made.

Sylvie and her husband Will like to invite people over for casual meals and barbecues. Stuart cajoles everybody into karaoke night at least once every two weeks. And now Rocky, the owner of Coastline Books, is starting a new book club soon.

At every game night, hangout at Foggy’s Bar, and bonfire, Mars and I end up sitting next to each other. I don’t know how it happens, but we’ve become unofficial partners in crime.

Turns out Mars is insanely good at Pictionary, what with his next-level artistic skills and his refusal to be stressed out by the timer. All the doodling and sketching he does has made us almost unbeatable. It’s gotten to the point that Stuart suggested Mars’ drawing time be cut in half.

“You’ve been practicing,” Stuart grumbles at Mars when we win our third Pictionary match in a row. Mars laughs, and the fine hairs on my arms stand up. Damn that low, rumbly sound. It’s starting to be a problem.

“If you mean that I draw every day for work, then yes, I’ve been practicing.” Stuart starts to protest but Meredith claps her hand over his mouth. “Stop talking,” she grumps. Stuart must lick or bite her hand because she yelps and smacks his shoulder.

Colin, who has Joanie in his lap, lets out a mighty yawn which spreads like a virus. By the end, everyone is bleary-eyed except Stuart. “You guys don’t want to go another round? We have Monopoly.”

“No,” at least five of us shout. Stuart suggests Monopoly every time we get together for game night, and we always shoot him down.

“Nobody likes Monopoly, stop suggesting it,” Sylvie says. Will nods in agreement.

“Carla likes it,” Stuart protests.

“Yeah, but Carla’s not here, and her husband hates it,” Ivy points out.

Meredith and Stuart start putting the games away, and Mars leans closer to me. “I actually love Monopoly, but I’m not willing to start a game at ten o’clock.” His breath stirs the hair around my ear, and I suppress a shiver.

“Of course you do. I haven’t figured out if there’s anything you don’t like.”

“Sharks,” he says with a solemn look on his face.

“Says the surfer.” I laugh. He cracks a smile and shrugs. Standing up from the cushion he’s occupied the whole night, he pulls me to my feet. The temptation to lean into him is strong, but I resist.

“Come on, Ives. Let’s put this evening to bed.” Why did he have to say that? For weeks I’ve been fighting this feeling that our friendship is teetering on the brink of something. A one-sided something.

Yeah, maybe I study him way too closely, but I’ve never seen him react to our incidental touches like I do. He either doesn’t feel that same spark, or he’s really good at hiding it.

I’ve found myself standing too close sometimes, trying to catch a hint of his sea-air scent. Touching him when I don’t need to be. Catching his eye from across the room. All initiated by me…every time.

As we say our goodbyes and head out the door into the foggy night, I resolve to lock down whatever stray feelings threaten to ruin one of the best friendships I’ve ever had.

He doesn’t make it easy though.

“Shit, it’s freezing out. Post-mortem in my truck? My heater kicks in faster than yours.”

Once I’m sitting in his beach-appropriate truck—honestly, I think you can hose this thing out without causing damage—he cranks the heat, and I sigh as the warm air hits my face.

He rubs his hands together. “Okay, Ives, let’s get you decompressed,” he says like it’s his favorite thing to do.

“I love that you know this about me.”

“I know a tired Ivy is a cranky Ivy, and nobody wants that.” I shove his shoulder and he laughs. “Okay, food.”

“Perfect as usual. Meredith and Stuart have the best party snack skills.”

“Are you happy that they added pizza rolls to the menu?”

“Infinitely happy.”

“Next topic: game selection.”

“We might have to set Pictionary aside for a few game nights. I think people are starting to get resentful that we win all the time.”

Mars’ smile widens. “We make a great team.”

So much for trying to kill any feelings I have for him. My heart gives a pathetic little whump when he calls us a team.

“Music,” he says, moving on to the next agenda item, completely unaware that I’m having a little internal battle.

“Always good, but a little too heavy on Meredith’s sad, early two-thousands, emo music.”

Mars gasps in faux outrage. “Sacrilege. Meredith’s music always hits right.”

I laugh. “I’m trying to picture you as an emo teen, and I can’t see it.”

“I was only emo when I went to my dad and stepmom’s house because I knew it pissed her off. I don’t know how many times she threw out my black eyeliner.” He tosses his head like he’s trying to get long bangs out of his face.

“Nope, still can’t see it.” In the middle of my giggle, a yawn hits me square in the throat.

Mars gets out of the car and comes around to open my door. “Okay, yawn monster, time to go home. I’ll see you Monday.”

I don’t want to get out of his warm car, but I need to go to bed. I straighten and wrap my arms around myself. A thin hoodie wasn’t enough to combat the cold that comes with thick fog. “What are you up to this weekend?”

“Nothing special. Errands and cleaning, maybe a little painting for another skateboard deck.”

“I hope that company knows how lucky they are to have you and your talent.”

“That’s what the paycheck’s for.” He winks at me and walks me to my car, which is parked in front of his. “Night, Ives. Sleep tight.” He leans forward a little but stops himself, his eyebrows knitting together for a moment. I have to stop myself from sucking in a breath.

“Night.” My voice catches, and I try to shake it off. Getting in my car, I start the engine and wait for the heater to kick on. And try to quiet my brain when it starts to ask what that moment meant.

Our post-mortem was supposed to help me get to sleep, but now Mars’ unidentified lean will keep me up all night.

MARS’ phone dings with a notification, but he doesn’t take it out of his pocket. His teacup stutters on the way to his mouth, and his cheeks light up with a blush.

“You don’t need to check that?” I ask as I take a sip of my tea. We’re in Betty’s Tattoos and Tea, taking a little break from work. He shakes his head and takes another sip.

His phone dings again. He still doesn’t check it. I laugh because there’s no way I’d be able to ignore a notification. I hate any red circle on my phone and must eradicate it immediately.

“Is there a reason you’re not checking it?”

It dings again. He ignores it.

“I swear to god, if you don’t check it, I will. What if it’s work?”

Mars rolls his eyes at me. “In no universe is there a skateboard design emergency. And it’s not work.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

He hesitates, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. Mars takes his doodling pen out of his pocket and starts uncapping it, then putting the cap back on. It’s one of his nervous tells.

“It’s a dating app.” His eyes flick to mine then back to the pen. “Stuart made me set up a profile a couple days ago.”

“Made you? Like duct taped you to a chair and forced you to create a dating profile?” I try to clear the panic from my voice. Why is this news throwing me for a loop?

“He can be very persuasive.” Mars shrugs and sits up straighter in his chair. “We were at Foggy’s, and I was lamenting my single status, so he bought me a couple shots and told me to download a dating app. I figure, what do I have to lose?”

His phone dings again.

“Apparently you’re very popular.”

A dimple pops in his cheek but quickly disappears. “I have to say, it hasn’t been hard on my ego.”

“Then why aren’t you answering any of them?” A little flag of hope waves in my chest. I’m an asshole because Mars is my friend. I don’t have any claim to his romantic life. But the tiniest, quietest, greediest part of me wants him to say he’s waiting for me. I clasp my hands in my lap and mentally squash that little flicker until it’s dead.

“I don’t know, it seems rude to look at them when I’m hanging with someone else. I’ll check them tonight.” This fucking flicker won’t die. “You should sign up.”

I snort. “Nope. No part of that is appealing. There’d be no point since I don’t want to be in a relationship.” The question is, do I mean for now or forever? Or only with Mars? Shit.

Mars’ eyebrows draw together. “Been burned before?”

“You could say that. I need to focus on building my business anyway. I don’t have time to dedicate to a relationship, and he’d end up getting resentful anyway. Then it would be months of passive aggressive digs and little acts of pettiness, interspersed with lukewarm sex and awkward dinners with his family.”

“Wow, this hypothetical boyfriend really sucks.”

“Yeah, I should dump him.” I already did.

I used to want a partner, but I learned my lesson after my last boyfriend was dismissive of my career—just like the two before him. The last straw was when he introduced me to his friend and said, “Ivy has a little ‘consulting’ business,” using infuriating air quotes. Excuse me, sir. I consult large and small companies on the best software to use for any given task. I design full-stack software solutions that have been deployed to millions of users. There’s nothing little about what I do.

The guy before that joked with his family that he had to constantly fix my computer for me. He didn’t tell them he tripped over my power cord, smashing the laptop, and I made him buy me a new one. Men and their fragile egos are exhausting.

Until they can collectively fix their shit, I’ve taken myself out of the dating pool.

Mars silences his phone and something in my chest eases. I wonder what he would be like as a boyfriend. The thought flits into my head, and I try to shake it loose, but it quickly takes hold and suddenly I have to know right fucking now.

“Hey, what do you tell people about me?” His eyebrows wing up.

“People?”

“Yeah, I mean…” I struggle to get the words out and I want to retreat. Maybe duck under the table. “I’ve mentioned you to my brother and a couple old friends from my last company.” I want to shrink with how pathetic I sound, and the feeling makes me angry.

Mars’ face softens as he takes in my clenched hands.

“Someday we’re going to have a conversation about why you’re asking me this.” He leans forward and holds my gaze. “I don’t talk to my family much. But when I mention you to people, I tell them my best friend, Ivy, is one of the smartest, has-her-shit-together people I’ve ever known. I tell them I’m glad I’m on her good side because someday my friend is going to rule the world.”

I don’t know why that makes me want to cry, but I swallow past the growing lump in my throat. I give him a wobbly smile. “Not sure I want that kind of power.”

“I know you’d use it for good. Mostly.”

CHAPTER 3

THIS MEETING COULD'VE BEEN AN EMAIL

MARS

Arubber band pings off my headphones as I doodle on a piece of scrap paper during a work meeting. I look up to catch Ivy pumping her fist like she’s celebrating a three-pointer.

I shake my head and point to my headphones with an exaggerated can’t you see I’m doing very important business-type things look on my face. In reality, this meeting could’ve been a medium length email. Ivy shrugs and preps another rubber band. Her own headphones are perched on her head, but I think she’s listening to music.

As much as my boss, Brian, loves scheduling meetings right before lunch, Ivy would probably break him of that habit within a week of working for him. I smile to myself at the thought of Ivy being in one of my meetings. In the work conversations I’ve overheard, she takes no prisoners when it comes to gaining new clients or getting people to do what she knows is best.

Maybe I’ll set up a meeting between me, her, and Brian so she can convince him we don’t need daily check-ins at half past eleven.

The CEO of our little skateboard company thinks he’s running a Fortune 500 corporation instead of a thirty-person shop that caters to counter-culture kids and aging millennials trying to recapture their youth.

I love my job, and I like the place I work, but every company goes through growing pains. Right now we don’t have nearly enough employees to take on the sharp spike in demand for high-end skateboards.

My meager marketing budget is stretched thin, but I like a challenge. Plus, since I started designing graphics for the skateboard decks and other merchandise the job has gotten infinitely more interesting.

Except for the meetings. The never-ending meetings. At least they give me a lot of doodling time.

Even though my nine-to-five satisfies my need for a creative outlet, I still carry a fineliner pen with me wherever I go. Right now, as I zone out for a moment during the manufacturing team’s report, I take my pen to the page.

I look up from my cartoonish drawing of my boss to see Ivy loading another rubber band on her fingers.

“Mars, did you catch that?” the VP of sales asks in my ear.

“Sorry, my connection dropped for a second. Can you repeat it?” I lie. The internet connection here is top notch—that’s part of the reason I joined the coworking space.

“The new board you designed is fast becoming our top seller. Congratulations. I’m glad you decided to branch out from marketing.” I smile at his complement, my face heating when I become the focus of the meeting.

“Thanks, I’m glad to hear it.”

“We want to get a jump on the next round of designs, maybe start using your idea of a theme across all the new boards and merch. Any thoughts?”

“We can reach out to some artists in the skate scene and maybe give them a scope to work within, make some limited editions.”

“Fantastic idea, but I also want some more Mars Brooks originals. Let’s set up another meeting to do some brainstorming on the theme.” I groan internally at the thought of another meeting.

I pick up the rubber band in my lap and fire it back at Ivy, hitting the back of her laptop. She smirks at me without taking her eyes off her work.

My meeting finally ends, and I slide the headphones off my head and stand up. Before heading to the kitchen for some water, I stretch my hands across the back of my neck as I arch backwards a little. My spine pops in a few places, sounding like a fresh glow stick at a concert. When I straighten, I catch Ivy’s eyes on the spot where my shirt rides up and her lip caught between her teeth. That’s very...interesting.

“Want some coffee, Ives?” Her panicked gaze snaps to my face as a blush stains her cheeks. She swallows heavily, and I wonder how long I can milk this. Purely for the fun of it—not because I like having her eyes on me. Not because her small moment of distraction has made my whole day. Ivy likes what she sees, even if she’ll never admit it.

She raises her mug. “Nah, I’m good.”

I stretch again, and this time she keeps her eyes on mine but crosses her legs. If I stretch a third time, our desk-mate Tien is going to wonder what the hell is wrong with me. I’m starting to wonder myself.

I grab my water bottle and head to the kitchen, skirting the coffee maker, which seems to hate me. Water splatters on my shirt when I turn on the faucet and the stream splashes into a bowl someone left in the sink. No workday would be complete if I didn’t manage to spill something on myself, trip on my own feet, or break something.

Stuart steps up to the counter across from the sink. “Hey, how’s your day?” What would Stuart be without his smile? The guy is one of the happiest, goofiest people I know, but he runs a tight ship here. I’m surprised he still likes me after all the things I’ve broken. At least the new microwave has a popcorn setting, making it close to Mars-proof.

I turn around and show him the wet spot on my shirt. “You know...fine.”

“I admire your consistency, man. Hey, you know Rocky’s new book club is starting soon. You in?” His habit of changing the subject midstream doesn’t throw me like it used to.

“Sure,” I say. Coastline Books is one of my favorite places in Wavecrest, and Rocky has never steered me wrong with her book recommendations.

“I’m glad she put together this overflow club. The first one she organized is overbooked.” He smiles at his own joke. “Joanie and Meredith are excited, and you and Ivy will make it even more fun.” I get a little jolt of pleasure when he links my name with Ivy’s which I tuck away for later.

“What kind of books are we reading?”

“All kinds, but you know what book clubs are like. Five minutes of talking about the book and two hours of gossip.” He’s not wrong. I used to be in a club where we gave up reading books after the fifth meeting. “But Rocky seems pretty determined to keep us on track. It should be a good time. Maybe her boyfriend Owen will lead some discussions.”

Doubtful since the guy is massively shy, even if he’s a published poet and works the front counter at Coastline with Rocky.

I get back to my desk and settle in for an afternoon of trying to market skateboards to various demographics.

My phone buzzes with a text.

IVY

You going to book club?

I smile and glance up to where she sits across from me. I shake my head and mouth lazy at her. She responds by scratching her eyebrow with her middle finger. I laugh and get back to our text conversation.

Yep. Stuart talked me into it.

IVY

Same. He’s a very persuasive guy. Also, Meredith and Joanie are joining.

So you’re saying we’ll have to rename it Chaos Club?

I hear her quick burst of laughter from across the desk.

IVY

We would never...

IVY

Mars takes off his headphones and runs his fingers through his short, sun-faded hair. But the impression of his headphones is still there, cutting across the top of his head. Why do I find that so endearing?

The wet spot on his shirt is drying, but he seems unbothered by it. I haven’t worked out what does bother him. He never complains about his job, he laughs at himself when he does something clumsy, and whenever he’s not happy with a drawing he simply starts over.

He’s tossed at least three today. Earlier, when Mars was at the printer, I took the top one out of the recycling bin and shoved it in my laptop bag. It’d be a shame for the little doodle of an anthropomorphized surfboard spitting out a bit of seaweed to be thrown out.

Maybe Mars’ whole unbothered vibe is why we’ve become such good friends. He brings calm to my stressed-out existence, plus I love a guy who doesn’t take himself too seriously. I mean, not love, but appreciate. In a way I love. Dammit.

I force my eyes away from Mars when a new email notification chimes in my headphones. Right, work. That thing that allows me to eat and pay rent. Maybe buy a romance novel—or ten—at Coastline before book club.

Inconveniently, all of my recent book boyfriends have started to look like Mars in my head. And no matter how hard I try I’m unable to shut that shit down.

CHAPTER 4

THAT WETSUIT IS A WEAPON OF MASS DISTRACTION

MARS

Zipping up my thick neoprene wetsuit and dragging my board off the top of my truck, I jog from the parking lot to the short staircase leading down to the beach. The town of Wavecrest sits at the top of oceanside cliffs, some taller than others depending on how far south you go. The prime surf spot happens to be where the cliffs dip and access to the beach is easier.

I still take care going down the stairs. I’ve only tripped down them once, luckily without injury.

The sun’s barely made an appearance, and the wind is blowing, which means today is an ideal day to get out on the water. I say a quick hello to the handful of regulars already here before paddling out far enough to catch waves.

I’ve been surfing almost every weekday morning, weather permitting, since I was a teenager. Although I’m pretty good on a board, I’ll never be pro-level, and that’s fine by me. Some people meditate in the morning, some do yoga. I surf. I’m not out to prove anything, simply clear my head before the day begins.

I let my mind go blank as I catch wave after wave. After about an hour, I can feel that I’m on the edge of fatigue, but I’m not quite ready to call it quits.

The sun’s just come up behind the hills, and I float stomach down on my board as thoughts of my stepbrother’s upcoming wedding invade my brain. Whatever strained relationship I have with my stepmother has carried to my weirdly adversarial dealings with the rest of her family. With Reggie’s wedding fast approaching I want to avoid tension and drama without skipping out on the wedding altogether.

I try to banish thoughts of family tension from my head as I spot a perfect wave approaching. The ocean is not a place to get stressed out. On somewhat shaky legs, I push back up on my board, hoping to catch a few more waves before I need to get ready for work.

The ride is short, and I paddle back out to wait for the next one. The routine of riding, swimming, and paddling allows my mind to drift in a different direction. Ivy. My favorite person to ponder. Our unexpected friendship has made each day infinitely better.

The few weeks I spent at The Base before she joined were fine, if a little lonely. But then she showed up, hauled me into her orbit, and I was drawn to her instantly. The idea that this beautiful, intelligent, funny woman wanted to get to know me knocked me on my ass.

Something bumps my foot and my heart pounds. An otter pops its head above the water, and I let out a relieved laugh. Not a shark. “Hey buddy. Enjoying the waves?”

It bobs for a bit, staring at me like it’s wondering why I’m hanging out in its territory. When it rolls over a couple times and then slaps its tummy, I let out a laugh. That startles it, and it dives back under the waves. I’ve had close encounters with plenty of animals since I started surfing, and it always manages to lighten my mood.

Surfers in front of me line up for their turn at the waves, and I paddle closer so I can line up with them. The otter pops up a little further away, and I choose to think of it as good luck that it visited me this morning. Maybe I’ll draw it later.

IVY

There’s more people out surfing than I expect at this early hour. My foot hits the last step to the beach a little wrong because I’m looking for Mars in the ocean instead of concentrating. I manage to keep my footing, but I smile. He’s probably tripped on this step a thousand times.

I sit down on the cold sand, hoping the wind and waves of the early morning beach will...do something. Maybe it’ll calm me down. Or energize me. Either way, I’m desperate for something to change. This week-long bout of insomnia is kicking my ass, and the last few days have been especially brutal. If it wasn’t for the never-ending caffeine supply at The Base, I’d be a dead woman walking.

If my sleep schedule doesn’t get back on track soon, I’m going to have to file a complaint. Is there a sleep manager I can speak to? I’ve gotten a maximum of four hours of sleep each night this week and I. Am. Done.

Cranky Ivy isn’t fit for human interaction, but about seventy percent of my day is spent talking to other people. If I want my business to survive, I need to sleep.

Ever since the anniversary party, my mind has been firing on all the wrong cylinders. I should be thinking about work and finding new clients. Not about Mars and how he smells like the ocean. And his shoulders…seriously. Not that I try to think about Mars’ shoulders. I mean, they’re right there, all perfect and wide, so it’s hard to avoid them.

The party was weeks ago, but in the middle of the night, I still go back to our hangout in the hotel lobby where we simply existed in a little bubble. That’s the moment I realized how much I wanted Mars’ friendship.

The millionth yawn of this morning escapes me, and the groan that comes out sounds like one of the elephant seals that hangs out north of here.

I can’t build a software consulting empire if I only get a few hours of sleep every night, or if I’m distracted by subtly attractive friends. Thank the stars I don’t have a boyfriend, otherwise this would be so much worse. At least that’s been my experience with relationships, where they suck up all my time and mental energy, leaving me with nothing in the tank.

Giving myself a mental pat on the back for my resoluteness, I ignore the little lump of loneliness that’s lived in my chest for as long as I can remember.

Last night I made the mistake of checking my work email, and my most high-maintenance client was nervous about making a decision on a key piece of software they need to run their business. Writing a diplomatic, reassuring message was beyond my abilities at ten o’clock at night, so I have to face it today.

But right now my tired brain is distracted by my best guy friend, and now I’m considering firing my client. Which I can’t do because my business is new, and being a woman in my field means I have to work extra hard to impress and keep clients.

I thought a walk on the beach might clear my head. I didn’t have this option when I lived miles from the beach, so I’m taking advantage of the perks of moving to the coast.

Scanning the row of surfers waiting their turn for the next wave, I suck in a breath when I realize the guy in the middle of the pack is Mars. Even this far away I can tell it’s him, with his loose-limbed slender body and solid shoulders.

I sit in the cold sand, my hands folded over my bent knees, and watch him in the water. His movements are impressively smooth, the way he goes from paddling on his stomach to jumping up to set his feet on the board to moving into position to catch a wave.

He does it over and over again, smiling each time his head pops above the surface. I can’t take my eyes off him. It almost makes me wish I was out there with him.

I let my mind wander. The sun continues to rise, casting a glow on the water and the people on their boards.

I close my eyes and focus on the sound of the waves in front of me, the screeches of the seagulls, the sun warming my shoulders, the feel of the cold sand under me. Tension finally starts to seep from my muscles, and I sway a little as fatigue hits me like a truck.

The strain of my client and work wash away. When I finally open my eyes, I spot Mars coming out of the water. He pops off his board and drops it in the sand before shaking water from his hair.

My mouth drops open, and I’m grateful for the sand keeping me cool so I don’t spontaneously combust.

Holy hell, Mars looks good in a wetsuit. I couldn’t see much detail when he was out on the water, but now...now I can see a lot. The black and gray neoprene hugs every lithe muscle, but for some reason I can’t look away from his exposed feet and ankles. Why does seeing a part of him I normally don’t send me into a horndog tailspin? My eyes travel up from his tanned, strong feet to his powerful thighs. I lick my lips. I want to ride those. The thought comes out of nowhere, and I try to ignore it. But I can’t. I really want to ride those.

Just north of his thighs I resist the urge to cover my eyes. The wetsuit doesn’t hide much. Even with the frigid water and brisk wind, Mars is...filling out that wetsuit. An unhinged giggle escapes me, and I slap my hand over my mouth, shaking my head.

How did I not know Mars is a California girl’s wet dream? It feels like the universe is playing a joke on me. I’ve been around this man for months, and he’s been like this the whole time? A surf god who wears regular people clothes around us mere mortals.

But the torture’s not over. He reaches behind his back and tugs the long cord for the wetsuit’s zipper down. All. The. Way. Down. My brain screams look away, look away. But I can’t because when he peels the suit off of his chest and arms, I nearly swallow my tongue. Holy shit, fuck me sideways. It hangs around his waist, revealing a strong, tanned chest that has the exact right amount of muscle. Not over the top, but enough to keep me occupied if I wanted to do some exploring.

He hasn’t spotted me yet, so I take my time watching him.

When he told me he surfs almost every morning, I didn’t think of the implications. Visions of lean muscles wrapped in black neoprene are overwriting every perception I ever had of Mars. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go to the beach again without picturing him coming out of the water. Or sit at my desk and not imagine him pulling that zipper down.

He rubs the water from his sun-touched hair and finally looks my way on his way to the parking lot. I know the second he spots me because he stumbles a little in the sand, his surfboard slipping from his fingers before he grips it again.

And fuck me, he’s walking this way.

He trudges through the sand like he’s being filmed in slow motion, and I might’ve gotten sand in my mouth because it has gone very dry. That’s the only thing on my body that is.

“Hey, Mars,” I call out.

“Ivy! Hey.” He lifts his hand to wave, but it’s the one holding his surfboard, and he nearly smacks himself in the forehead. I smile at how truly Mars-esque this moment is. He was all grace and skill on his board, but as soon as his feet hit solid ground, he’s a lost cause. I wonder if he has the same fluid skill when he’s horizontal. Bad Ivy.

He stands in front of me but not blocking my view of the ocean, the rising sun hitting him full in the face and chest. He belongs on a postcard. Welcome to California! Don’t you wish you were riding this? Light brown hair, damp and dripping. Freckles trailing down into his wetsuit, lord help me.

My eyes finally catch his, and I suck in a breath. Friend. He is friend. Not a golden god. Friend. “Come to watch me surf?” His lips quirk up in a small smile.

“That’s only one of the perks of coming out here at the ass-crack of dawn. Couldn’t sleep.” Mars hums in commiseration, then leans down to undo the board leash strapped around his ankle. It’s not easy to cut my eyes away from his bunching shoulder muscles.

Once the leash is off, he turns and drops down into the sand next to me. I feel the coolness coming off his skin. His saltwater scent hits me, and I have to restrain myself from licking water droplets off of his arms. And chest. And wherever else they’ve found their way. Calm your tits, Ivy Lowenstein. Friends don’t lick each other.

This weird sudden spike of attraction is pointless. I don’t do relationships. I don’t want to do relationships.

Mars knocks his shoulder into mine. “It’s a nice surprise, seeing you out here. If it helps clear your brain, you should come out here more often.”

“Yeah, it’s...nice.” Such a weak word. It’s confusing, it’s arousing, it’s cold, it’s meditative. It’s way beyond nice.

He knocks his shoulder into mine again. “I gotta get home and shower before I start my workday. See you later?”

I almost swallow my tongue when he stands up and I get a closeup of him wiping sand from his neoprene covered backside. “Yep. See you later. Thanks for the surfing show.”

“Any time. I used to teach it at the college, if you ever want lessons.”

“I’m almost six feet tall...I’m not sure it’s a good idea to put all of this on a moving plank in the water.”

“We’re almost the same height, Ivy. But if you’re too chicken...” He grins.

I give him a dramatic huff. “How dare you, sir. Nothing scares me.” Except for doing something stupid to ruin this friendship, but I keep that to myself.

I watch him walk back to his car, primed to look away if he catches me in the act of ogling. He doesn’t turn around but tosses a wave over his shoulder before he disappears over the top of the stairs. Like he knew I was watching. Dammit.

CHAPTER 5

JUST GO WITH IT

IVY

It’s finally book club day, and the fact that I get to spend two hours in a bookstore with my closest friends has made me practically giddy.

But I still have half a day of work left before I can fully relax. My new client seems pretty demanding, but I love a challenge. The manager of Cliffside Hotel and Resort is trying to make the place more efficient and hired me to upgrade all their systems. They’re one of the last independently owned resorts in California, and she sounded anxious.

Hopefully, I can make her life easier and get paid at the same time.

My phone buzzes with a new text.

MARS

Did you read the book?

What book?

MARS

I’ll take that as a no. I don’t even know what book we’re supposed to be reading. Why am I stressed about this?

Poor Mars, always wanting to be the teacher's pet.

MARS

Rocky is scary. I don’t want her to boot me out of book club before I’ve had a chance to prove myself.

I laugh, getting looks from some of our coworkers.

Want to head over together? I’m thinking of going a little early to browse the shelves.

MARS

I’ll meet you there. I have to run a few errands today.

[thumbs up emoji]

I push the tiny twinge of disappointment aside and get back to work.

THE MYSTERY SECTION is calling me, but my arms are already full with four romance and two fantasy books. If Mars was here, he’d carry some of these, but instead Rocky walks by and sets a basket at my feet. “Thanks,” I call out to her retreating back. She gives me a wave over her shoulder.

When I came in, she and her employee, June, were setting up the seating area at the back of the store for tonight’s book club. I spotted three boxes of wine and a massive charcuterie board. This is going to be my kind of book club, even if I haven’t read the book.

Picking up the basket after I dump my haul into it, I head into the next aisle. A chill runs through me as soon as I spot someone staring at the memoirs, his head cocked in apparent confusion. A little too slick, a little too pinched looking. Yep, that’s Henning, my most recent ex-boyfriend and part of the reason I’m taking a break from the dating scene. A long, long break.

What the hell is he doing in Wavecrest? Last I heard he was moving to Portland. I was hoping for a few more states between us, but I wasn’t going to complain that he was at least out of running-into-each-other range.

I try to step backwards quietly before he notices me, but my full basket knocks into the wooden shelf, drawing his attention. Crap. Henning’s eyes go wide when he recognizes me.

“Ivy?” I don’t like the note of hopefulness I hear in his voice. Our two-year relationship was never great, although we had our moments. By the end, I was so over him and his casual dismissiveness, all I felt was relief that I’d never have to deal with him again. But here he is, in one of my happiest places.

I sigh, resigned to having to interact with him. Ignoring the adrenaline pumping through my body at the shock of seeing him again, I suck in a calming breath. Well, it’s supposed to be calming, but all I feel is annoyed.

“Henning. What are you doing here?” I manage to keep my voice neutral, and that takes enough effort that I’m going to reward myself with a piece of chocolate later.

He’s still staring at me but finally blinks out of it. “Um, right. I was hoping I’d run into you in Wavecrest.”

“You came here to talk to me?” A shot of panic hits me in the neck, and I swallow past the cold dread.

“What? No, not like that. You always let your imagination get the best of you.” He chuckles awkwardly. I roll my eyes. Here we go. “I’m in town for a while. My sister’s getting married at the resort, and there’s a ton of pre-wedding activities.”

“Good for her. Pass along my congratulations.” I liked Greta, but we didn’t interact enough to get to know each other well. I take a step back, hoping to end this conversation before it’s really gotten going.

“Also, my parents are thinking of buying a place down here, so we’re spending a little extra time to see how they like it.”

“Here? In Wavecrest? Your parents?” This is not what I want to hear. Something like “We all decided to take a five year cruise” would’ve been more welcome news. Finding out I have a brain worm would be better than the words coming out of his mouth.

I don’t want to spend my life in Wavecrest trying to avoid Henning and his family.

A smile spreads across his face. I can’t believe I used to love that smug grin of his. He thinks he’s got me where he wants me. The breakup was my idea, and he didn’t take my decision well. Weeks went by before he stopped calling and texting.

“If they buy a place, I plan to be here a lot.” His grin kicks up more and I can feel a tension headache building behind my eyes. “Cool, right?”

I start to walk away without answering, done with this conversation. Rocky’s going to need to add another box of wine to book club.

“Ivy, wait. I’d love to catch up. It’s been months since...since I last saw you.”

“Almost a year,” I say before I can catch myself.

“Right. Do you have time this...” He stops mid-sentence and his eyes focus over my shoulder. That’s when I feel a warmth at my side. I’m enveloped in the scent of the ocean and clean laundry as Mars stands next to me. His eyes dart between me and Henning.

“Hey, Ives.” I’ve never been so happy to hear someone’s voice in my life. He’s getting a little piece of chocolate too—for his perfect timing.

“Hey, babe,” I say a little too loudly, giving him my biggest smile. With my free hand I grab his arm, squeezing a little. Hopefully, he gets the just go with it message.

Mars’ eyes widen for a split second and then fill with concern. I put my basket by my feet and pull him into a hug, aware that my ex-boyfriend is staring at us. “Sorry,” I whisper into Mars’ ear. “I owe you.” I allow myself a brief moment to enjoy the feel of his arms around my back, squeezing me close.

I step back but take his hand and turn to Henning. “Babe, this is Henning. Henning, this is my boyfriend Mars.” To his credit, Mars doesn’t laugh or run. He lets go of my hand, and I panic for a split second until I realize it’s to give Henning the quickest handshake in the history of handshakes.

When he wraps his arm around me again, I lean into him, soaking up his calm. “How do you know Ivy?” he asks in the most innocent voice I’ve ever heard. It’s such a diva move, and I love it. He knows exactly who Henning is—I might’ve spilled my guts about my disastrous dating history one drunken night at Foggy’s Bar.

“Ivy and I used to date,” Henning says with a question in his voice. Mars’ arm tightens around me, and I look up at him.

“That was a lifetime ago,” I say into Mars’ eyes.

“How long have you been together?” Henning asks. Who is this guy, suddenly interested in my life? He wasn’t when we were together, and I don’t know why he’s starting now.

“Months,” I say at the same time Mars says, “It’s new.”

He clears his throat. “Feels like only yesterday we got together.”

Henning’s eyebrows draw together, and it looks like he’s not buying it. If he’s going to be in town semi-permanently, I need him to believe, to understand, that we’re never ever getting back together. “Mars came along at exactly the right time.”

“Luckiest guy on the planet,” he says, and I snort because Mars is one of the unluckiest guys I know.

I turn back to Henning, feeling some of the tension loosen from my muscles as Mars’ hand strokes gently up my back. “What are you doing at the bookstore? Not your usual hang-out.” He was never a big reader, so this is one of the last places I’d expect to run into him.

He rolls his eyes. “Greta and her stupid pre-wedding games. The entire family and bridal party are doing a scavenger hunt for the whole week. I have to take a selfie with a ‘memoir of the preeminent wedding dress designer.’ I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

That explains his confused look when I first spotted him.

“Wang,” Mars and I say at the same time.

“What?” Henning says slowly.

“Vera Wang,” Mars explains. He points at the bottom shelf, where a biography of the famous designer sits. Henning pulls the book off the shelf with a frown.

“It’s amazing that you knew that,” I say to him, turning in his arms so I can wrap one arm around his waist and put my other hand on his chest, over his heart.

“My future step sister-in-law's dress is a Vera Wang,” he murmurs, his eyes skating over my face from brows to lips. “And my stepmother hasn’t stopped telling my dad about it, which means he tells me about it.”

“I see,” I whisper. I don’t know what I’m responding to because Mars’ lips are right there and Henning is looking at us with his head tilted like he’s trying to figure something out. So I do what any sane woman would do with her can’t-take-a-hint ex-boyfriend staring and Mars fucking Brooks with his arms around me. I kiss him.

Mars. Not the ex-boyfriend.

Smart man that he is, Mars freezes for only a split second, then he’s kissing me back. The goosebumps start at my neck and rush down to my knees, hitting all the points in between.

The press of Mars’ lips on mine is gentle, but flames still lick down my body, making my center clench like a vise. My fingers curl into his biceps, and I pull him closer. Inside my little goblin brain, I’m treated to a vision of an impossible future where we’re doing this exact thing, but in a bed and naked. Probably with more tongue.

Mars, earner of another piece of chocolate, rolls with it like a champ. He doesn’t hesitate at all. He’s really selling the illusion. He even hums a little when I fist my hand in his shirt.

Oh hello hard muscle. I almost forgot you were there. His solid body, mixed with his soft lips on mine, short circuits my brain. I let out a little moan before my hand finds his hair and pulls.

I forget how this kiss started, but I want to keep it going forever. Mars’ arms wrap tighter around me and he nips at the corner of my mouth. A quiet sigh escapes me, and he takes it as an invitation to go deeper. And he does. His tongue teases mine as visions of what else he can do with it dance through my mind.

A throat clears, and we slowly pull apart, taking a beat to stare at each other, silently communicating.

What the hell was that?

I don’t know but let’s hope it did the trick.

Henning’s still standing there, his mouth open in disbelief. But over his shoulder, I notice June standing at the end of the aisle with her hands clasped under her chin.

“I knew it! I fucking knew it! Rocky owes me twenty bucks.” She turns around and scurries off. I groan internally, remembering that June is one of Wavecrest’s most prolific gossips.

Henning, for his part, has lost most of the color in his face. “Yep, well. I guess I’ll see you around town. Ivy, if you ever want to...I don’t know...talk, you still have my number.” I don’t, but I won’t tell him that.

He gives Mars a nod and walks away. As soon as Henning’s out of sight, Mars steps back and throws his arms out to the side.

“Boyfriend?” he whisper-shouts. His lips are swollen from our kiss and it’s distracting. I also kinda love how his hair looks like I got my hands on it. He has nice hair, I think as I sway a little on my feet.

I blink out of it when Mars snaps his fingers in front of my face, a sly smirk taking over his face. “Did I kiss you silent? Yoohoo, Ivy. You in there?” Smug Mars is kind of doing it for me.

Friend. Mars is my friend. A friend who can kiss like he has a PhD in it. “Ivy.” His voice is a warning. Apparently, I’ve been staring at his lips instead of answering his perfectly valid question.

I give myself a shake. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to think. Henning was in the middle of asking me out and there you were, the man with the best timing in the world. So I acted on instinct.” Later, when I’m less lip-drunk, I’ll have to examine why my first instinct was to claim Mars as mine, and my second was to kiss him.

“No need to apologize, Ives. Especially for kissing me,” he mutters under his breath. His head snaps up and his eyes go wide. “Shit, I didn’t go too far, did I? If I made you uncomfortable...”

I stop him with a hand on his chest. “Hey, I’m the one who blindsided you, okay? And that kiss definitely didn’t make me uncomfortable.” It made me wet, but I’ll shove that in a box and try to never think about it again.

There’s nobody else in the aisle, but we keep our voices to a whisper. “Listen,” I say as I step closer to him. He doesn’t move. “Henning and his family are in town for a while because his sister’s getting married and his parents are moving to Wavecrest. I’d like to avoid talking to him.”

“So...what, you want me to be your buffer while they’re here?”

“Yes. Yes, exactly that. I’ll owe you bigly. Huge. Name your favor, I’ll do it. But I need a fake boyfriend to keep him and his family away from me. I’ll do anything.”

Mars’ ears turn a bright shade of pink before he clears his throat.

“Why not tell him no?”

“He’d keep asking. He never believed that I knew my own mind. ‘Ivy, are you sure you want to order the shrimp? Ivy, why are you asking your boss for a raise—it’s not like what you do is rocket science. Ivy, are you sure you want to start your own business? It seems really difficult.’ I could go on.” I can’t stop the hint of bitterness that creeps into my voice. Mars wraps his hand around my wrist and gives me a little tug.

His warm brown eyes skate over my face and then harden. “Is he why you asked me that question at Betty’s? You wanted to know what I told my family about you.” I don’t answer, but he can read it on my face. “He’s the one who put doubts in your head?”

I resist the urge to brush my fingers over his knitted eyebrows, to ease the tension I feel coming off him in waves. “He wasn’t the first, but he’ll be the last. I left him far behind, and I want to keep it that way.”

“Hey, I’ll be whatever you need for however long you need it.” Mars’ voice gentles.

I sag in relief, feeling instantly better that I’ll have him at my side. Letting out a breath I say, “Thanks. You’re the best friend I could ask for.” I can’t look him in the eye, otherwise he’ll see how that word is starting to feel inadequate.

He gives me a tight smile and pats my shoulder. “Yep. That’s me, your friend.”

That’s all I need from him, all I’m resolved to want from him. And other lies we tell ourselves.

MARS

I’ve asked Colin three times what book we’re talking about, and I forget as soon as he tells me each time. It could be the most interesting book about the intersection of art and surfing, and I wouldn’t care. Not when I can still feel Ivy’s lips on mine.

I let out a groan, and everybody looks at me. I think Rocky was in the middle of saying something. “Sorry, cramp.” I lean down to rub at the nonexistent pain in my shin.

“So you and Ivy?” Stuart leans in from my left. He took the seat next to me before Ivy could, and now she’s sitting across the large coffee table from me, sandwiched between Joanie and Meredith.

“Um...” I don’t know how to answer that. We didn’t have time to get our stories straight. We’re putting on a show for Henning and his family, but we didn’t set any ground rules. Are we telling our friends? Now or after the coast is clear? “Maybe?”

Stuart elbows me, and I grunt. “Nothing better than a new relationship. Or an old one where you’re all comfortable and cozy with each other.” He turns to Meredith and gives her a little finger wave. She flips him off and blows a kiss at the same time. “But take it from me...you don’t want to be stuck in limbo. Define your relationship, otherwise you’ll be living in the ‘maybe’ forever.”

“But we’re not...”

“Oh you will be,” he says with all the sagacity of an old man who wears suspenders, even if he’s only in his twenties. I don’t have the brain capacity to set him straight. Ivy and I might’ve bitten off more than we can chew.

But that kiss was worth whatever’s coming my way.

IN BED THAT NIGHT, I delete the dating apps from my phone before I shove my hand down my boxers and stroke myself to memories of Ivy’s lips on mine. Closing my eyes just before I come, I try not to think about how I’m in for a whole world of hurt. Worth it.

CHAPTER 6

EVERYBODY'S A CRITIC

IVY

Mars is doing that thing where he eats all the tomatoes out of his salad before anything else. I lean forward in our booth at Curly’s Diner. “Why do you do that?”

He pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth, the last tomato wobbling precariously. “Do what?”

“Eat your tomatoes first. Every time.”

“Does it bother you?” The corner of his mouth kicks up.

“Not at all. I find it endearing. Like a dog who always spins three times before it lays down.”

“Thanks?” He eats the tomato and licks his lips. “I really like tomatoes.” I really like your mouth. I shake the thought from my head, unwilling to explore why it popped in there in the first place.

“Then wouldn’t you want to save them for last?”

“I like to front-load my pleasure. A little pre-meal treat.” His smile and quick wink make my ears warm. I can’t help but smile back at him.

I pluck a cucumber from his salad. “Is that a euphemism for something?” I know I’m treading into dangerous territory, but I can’t help myself.

“Do you want it to have a double meaning?” He reaches across the table, and I think he’s going to touch me. I really want him to touch me. But he takes a fry from my plate, popping it in his mouth and relaxing back into the booth.

“No,” I say too quickly. “Of course not.” After all, that’s not what totally, completely, one-hundred percent friends-only friends do. Even if we did have one of the hottest kisses of my life yesterday.

When I got home last night after book club, I had to talk myself out of using one of my vibrators. The only way I was able to fall asleep was chanting it wasn’t real over and over.

I need to draw some clear lines to get us firmly back on the friends side of things, because I can’t function if I’m distracted by something as insignificant as a kiss. His lips felt pretty significant, you liar.

“How was your meeting this morning?” Perfect. A nice, boring topic to get us back on track.

As we chat about work, Mars picks up the pen he carries with him everywhere and starts doodling on the paper placemat in front of him. He draws a little coffee mug with a cute, yawning face on it, and it’s so charming I want to hug it.

He puts his pen down as our waitress, Dana, tops off our water and leans down. “So,” she starts, drawing out the word. This should be good. “I heard you two are dating now.” She puts finger bunny ears around dating and raises an eyebrow at us.

“News travels fast.” Mars winks at me with a we got this look on his face.

“Yeah, I’m not buying it,” Dana says.

I almost spit out my coffee. Apparently, we don’t got this.

Mars’ face falls. “What? Why? We’re totally together.” He turns to me. “Right, schmoopy?”

I kick him under the table, and he jolts. Dana shakes her head.

“Knock it off. We’re only trying to keep Henning and his family off my back. We don’t need to bamboozle all of Wavecrest.” I keep my voice low in case anybody else is listening.

“Well, I hate to tell you this but y’all need to work on your body language. More leaning. More touches. More lingering looks. If you want pointers on selling the fake-dating thing, you should talk to Ryan over at the tattoo parlor. That’s how he and Cecilia started.” Dana’s voice is entirely too loud for my liking.

Mars lifts his mug. “Thanks for the tips, but I think we’re good.”

Dana rolls her eyes at him. “Fine, but it’s your funeral. Remember, more touching.” She gives us a smug smile and shakes her head, like she’s the expert on the subject. There’s no way Mars and I don’t have chemistry.

Dana heads to another table, and Mars moves his plate aside, leaning across the table so he’s in my space. “Don’t listen to her.” He reaches for my hand and holds it. His grasp is warm and solid, sending crackling energy shooting up my arm. “I think this is going to be easy.”

“How are you so confident?”

“I was in the drama club in high school. I was going to play Romeo until I broke my arm falling off the stage.” His face is deadly serious but there’s a wicked glint in his eye.

I throw my head back and laugh, squeezing his hand.

“Yes, like that,” Dana exclaims as she walks by our table.

MARS

We step out into the sunshine, and Ivy looks up and down the street, probably keeping an eye out for Henning or his family. Wavecrest’s a small town and it’s easy to run into people you’d like to avoid.

Ivy pulls her lip gloss out of her bag, and I hold up my phone to her face so she can use it as a mirror. The soft-tipped wand glides over her lips, and I try not to think about how I want to follow it with my tongue. Recapping the gloss she rubs her lips together, never taking her eyes from her reflection. Blood rushes from my head to my cock as I choke back a groan. It happens every time we do this little ritual.

Trying to loosen the tension in my gut, I close my eyes and point my face at the emerging sun. The familiar sound of Ivy dropping the gloss back in her bag makes me smile. As I’m taking a deep breath and enjoying the heat of the sun on my face, I feel Ivy’s hands on my chest.

“Shit,” she whispers.

“What...”

She spins us around, fists her hands in my shirt, whispers a quick ‘go with it’ and pulls me down into a kiss. I honestly don’t care that we’re putting on a show because this kiss is a revelation. A massive earthquake could split Wavecrest down the middle and I don’t think I’d notice with Ivy’s lips on mine and mine on hers.

She has a tight grip on my shirt, but I’m not planning on going anywhere. We’re so close in height that our mouths line up perfectly. My hands have a mind of their own and reach for her hips, pulling her closer.

She gasps, and I take the kiss deeper as I tease her with my tongue. Her gasp turns into a moan, and she winds her arms around my neck, her fingers raking through my hair. Holy fuck this is the hottest kiss I’ve ever had, and it’s just for show.

Somewhere, on the other side of the fuzzy fog in my brain, I hear slow clapping. It is a pretty great kiss...it deserves applause but Ivy’s grip on my hair eases and she slowly pulls back. Her jaw hangs open, and she stares at me as the clapping continues. I turn. Henning is walking away from us, up the street toward the resort. Right, the whole reason for the kiss.

The applause finally stops, and I notice Dale, the bartender at Foggy’s Bar, smiling at us like he’s a cat that cornered a mouse.

Next to him is Betty, the owner of Betty’s Tattoos and Tea, with her arms folded and a smirk on her face. Inside I groan. Two kisses in twenty-four hours and they’ve happened in front of the three biggest gossips in town.

“Oh my god, I had no idea you two were dating,” Dale says, his voice flat. He waves off that statement. “I’m lying. June unleashed it on the group chat last night. Poor thing thinks this is real. But we know better, don’t we Betty?” He nudges the older woman with his elbow.

I want to disagree with him, to shout This could be real. But I keep my mouth shut.

I realize I’m still holding Ivy, and I start to drop my hands, but her grip on my shirt tightens. That’s right, we got this chemistry thing locked down.

Betty pulls her phone from her pocket and taps at the screen, then puts it back in her pocket. Dale’s phone dings with a notification. Through the window of Curly’s, I see Dana pull her phone out of her apron pocket and laugh at what she sees. The Wavecrest grapevine is lightning quick. And scary.

“We’re not trying to,” Ivy begins, but Betty waves her off.

“We know exactly what you’re trying to do. You think you’re faking a relationship—this isn’t our first rodeo. But if you’re going to convince whoever you’re trying to convince, your act needs more work. Nobody who knows you well believes it.” What the actual fuck? Betty is the second person in a half hour to tell us that our chemistry is lacking.

I call bullshit. Before I can think better of it, I pull Ivy back in for another kiss. My hands roam over her back, skimming just above her peachy ass. She immediately opens for me, humming a happy little tune as our tongues tangle. Her nails scrape through my hair, showering my body in sparks. I grow painfully hard.

When I finally pull back, her eyes are glazed and her lips are parted. There, that’ll show them.

I turn back to Betty and Dale, but they’re already walking away, their shoulders shaking with laughter.

“I think...I think we’re not the ones doing the bamboozling,” Ivy says in a whisper.

I blink like I’m coming out of a trance. It feels like we’ve been visited by the ghosts of busybodies past and present.

I slowly let go of Ivy’s waist and clear my throat. “Well...that was...that was...” I got nothing. Logic and reason are slow to come back because I can still taste her, still feel her warm breath ghosting across my lips.

Ivy reaches up and brushes her thumb across my lips. “This isn’t your color,” she says with a hint of a smile. I flick my tongue out to catch her thumb before I can think better of it. Her eyes widen, and her lips part. I love putting that look on her face, even if I’m crossing the friendship line.

I take her hand, and we head back to work. “My lips are at your disposal any time you need them.”

“My hero.”

CHAPTER 7

STAY ON YOUR TOES AND KISS ME

IVY

Foggy’s Bar is bursting at the seams. It’s karaoke night, and Joanie’s boyfriend, Colin, has signed up for multiple songs. He’s at the bar chatting with some of the other locals. Mars is next to him, sipping a beer and doodling on something.

I didn’t know he’d be here tonight, but I’m happy to see him. We should probably come up with a schedule of public outings while Henning’s in town. Maybe something for every day of the week.

Joanie, Meredith, and I managed to snag a tiny two-top table near the front window after ordering drinks at the bar. The color from a neon sign bounces off Meredith’s near black hair.

“What’s this I heard about you dating Mars?” Joanie asks, staring at me over the rim of her cocktail. I almost choke on the pretzel I popped in my mouth.

“Wow, the gossips work fast. That just happened a couple days ago.”

“What’d I miss?” Meredith asks. Her voice sounds disinterested but her eyes say otherwise. She acts like she’s above it, but I know she loves spilled tea as much as the rest of us.

I take another sip of my wine, wishing I’d ordered something stronger. “Mars and I are pretending that we’re together because my ex is in town for a wedding and the guy can’t take a hint.” Meredith’s eyebrows wing up. “And his parents are looking to buy a house here. Who knows how long we’ll need to keep this up.”

Joanie slams her glass down on the table. “Are you, Ivy Lowenstein, telling me, Joanie Ferrell, writer of romance, that you’re living out one of my favorite tropes? It’s not even Christmas,” she shouts.

I slap a hand over her mouth. “Jesus, keep your voice down.” She starts dancing in her chair. “And it’s not a trope. He’s helping me out of an unpleasant situation.”

She leans her elbows on the table and gets really close to my face. Meredith smirks and keeps drinking. “You know what this means, right?” I’m afraid to ask, so I don’t. “Fake dating only leads to one thing.”

“Hard feelings and awkwardness,” Meredith says with too much confidence.

Joanie smacks her on the arm. “No, you dork. Fake dating leads to...real dating.”

I cover my face with my hands and laugh. “Joanie, I love you, but you know I don’t date.”

Her eyes dance. “I know what I know, and I’m an expert on the subject. Just you wait.” There’s no way Mars and I are headed that way. I mean, he wouldn’t be the worst boyfriend, and it’s not completely out of the realm of possibility. He’d probably be pretty great actually.

I shake my head trying to clear that thought. There are too many reasons why I don’t want a relationship, and I need to stick to my decision. Even if each kiss turns my resolution to sand.

Joanie doubles down. “I will bet you big money this leads somewhere.”

“Do you have big money?”

“I will bet you a cup of coffee,” she corrects.

I wave her off, not because she’s full of shit, but because I’m not one hundred percent sure I’d win this bet. And that scares the shit out of me.

The conversation shifts to Meredith’s recent dinner with Stuart’s large family, and we all laugh at how she describes his brothers and sisters.

I almost choke on my wine when Henning’s sister walks into Foggy’s with a handful of other people. Shit. Where’s my fake boyfriend when I need him? “Code ex. I repeat, code ex,” I whisper.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Meredith asks.

Joanie follows my line of sight, takes in my pale face and hops out of her chair. At the bar, she places a quick kiss on Colin’s cheek then says something to Mars.

Henning’s sister, Greta, scans the bar for an open table, and I duck my head hoping she doesn’t spot me. Staring down at the scarred tabletop, I jump when a warm, heavy hand lands on my upper back. “Hey, babe,” Mars says. Oh, thank goodness.

I jump up and hug him, pulling back to give him what’s supposed to be a quick kiss to throw Greta off the scent. But our lips linger for longer than what’s appropriate for friends pretending to be dating who are only trying to sell it to a limited audience. He returns the kiss and more, only stopping when someone bumps into him on the way to the bar.

“Hi,” he whispers. “Need some rescuing?”

“Henning’s sister is here, and she’s way smarter than he is.”

“What you’re saying is that you’re in need of my services again.” I want to eat the grin right off of his face.

“Yes, exactly that.” I sigh, grateful that Mars gets me.

He nods once and sits down in my chair, pulling me onto his lap. I try to ignore the smug smile on Joanie’s face as I wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep myself steady. My body heats when he responds with an arm across my thighs.

I know the second Greta spots me because the hair on my arms stands up. Or maybe that’s Mars’ hand on my back, absently rubbing circles while he chats with Meredith and Joanie. I’ve lost focus on what they're talking about because his hand glides up to the nape of my neck where he starts to play with my hair. I love it when men play with my hair, and I have to bite my lip to keep a moan from escaping.

“Which one is Greta?” he whispers in my ear. There’s no hiding the shiver that runs through my body. His hand tightens on my thigh as I try to remember his question.

Swallowing thickly, I subtly tilt my head in Greta’s direction. “Blonde, pink dress.”

“Got it. Looks like she’s spotted you and is headed this way.”

I tighten my arm around his shoulders. It’s only Henning’s sister, and I don’t know why I’ve become a clingy koala. Maybe it’s how he and his parents made me feel small in their backhanded, passive aggressive way.

Greta was all right, but most of our interactions left me feeling on edge.

She approaches the table with a brittle smile on her face. “Ivy, it’s so good to see you.” Meredith scoots her chair closer to mine like she wants to protect me. Mars’ fingers keep playing with my hair, and it might be the only thing keeping me from running.

“Greta.” My smile is as brittle as hers. “It’s good to see you. I hear congratulations are in order.”

She waves her hand in the air like getting married is no big deal. “Yeah, well it took Matt long enough to propose.” Greta rolls her eyes, her hand still waving in the air so there’s no way I’d miss the massive rock on her finger.

Mars squeezes my neck and I jump a little. “Greta, meet my boyfriend Mars. Mars, this is Greta, Henning’s sister.”

“A pleasure.” He shakes her hand briefly, and I miss the feel of his grip on my thighs.

“Boyfriend, huh?” She rakes her eyes down his face, across his shoulders to where he’s holding me on his lap. Her eyes linger on his forearms, and I don’t blame her. They are blue ribbon forearms.

I run my finger along the outside of his ear, trying to sell the illusion. His eyes widen for a split second, then I feel it. Something hard twitches against the back of my thighs. He clears his throat, and I clench my thighs.

“Yep,” he chokes out. “She finally agreed to go out with me.”

“Must be pretty new. You and Henning ended—”

“Way past our expiration date,” I finish for her.

“I’ve been after Ivy since she almost ran me over with her car.”

“Wait, that was you?” I stare at him, a memory of someone bouncing off the side of my car then skating away. I’d been so focused on getting to my new place that I’d quickly forgotten about it.

He looks at me like that’s his favorite memory. He’s really good at this faking it thing. The community theater would be happy to have him.

Greta’s eyes widen.

“That’s your meet cute? You almost killed him?” Joanie shouts. “Fucking brilliant.” She takes out a notebook from her bag and jots something down.

“It wasn’t her fault,” Mars insists with a smile. “I was crossing the street on my skateboard and saw the most beautiful woman singing along to The Chicks at the top of her lungs, and I drifted straight into the side of her car.

“I thought if I could get her to smile at me before she ran me over, I’d die happy. Who wouldn’t want their days to end at the hands of a vision in a green polka dotted blouse.”

My jaw drops open. “You remember what I was wearing?” There’s no way.

He laughs. “And you flipped me off.”

“But that’s not when we actually met. We first talked at work—”

“When I broke the coffee maker.”

He’s so close, our noses practically touching. If I leaned a little to the right and tilted my head, I could fit my lips to his. Really sell this thing.

“You were so adorably flustered. I couldn’t let you feel bad about it. That coffee maker sucks.”

“It does,” he trails off. And then he kisses me. His cock twitches again as I moan into his mouth and comb my fingers through his hair. This is a different kiss than the one we shared in front of the diner. This one is slower, simpler. Just two people exploring each other’s mouths while they try to convince someone they’re together. I’d say we’re doing a great job. Top notch. His tongue dancing with mine really seals the deal. What deal? I can’t remember because Mars tastes like pretzels and beer and him.

I jump when something cold and wet hits the side of my face. An ice cube sits in my lap.

“She’s gone, you idiots. She left as soon as you forgot she was standing there.” Meredith is reaching into her glass for another cube.

“I’m going to order the biggest, most expensive coffee you’ve ever seen when I win this thing,” Joanie says in wide-eyed wonder. “Three pumps of caramel and all the whipped cream.”

MARS

Do they make a greeting card that says something like, “Thank you for planning a wedding and showing up everywhere in this small town so Ivy and I have to continually be on our boyfriend/girlfriend toes?” Because I’d like to attach it to the biggest fruit basket ever sold and have it delivered to the resort.

Greta’s wedding and attached scavenger hunt has her friends and family, including Ivy’s ex, swarming Wavecrest. We can’t step outside The Base without running into someone who knows Ivy through that asshat.

We spend the week on high alert, not that I’m complaining.

On Tuesday, Ivy grabs my hand as we’re taking a tea break at Betty’s shop. She slides her eyes to a group of people walking by the window. A woman who looks to be middle-aged frowns at Ivy as she passes. “Kiss me,” Ivy whispers across the table, tugging on my hand. So I do. A sweet little peck on her cheek because I don’t want to get kicked out of Betty’s. I like this place.

Thursday morning, Ivy helps me pick up large airpots of coffee from the local cafe because the office coffee maker gave up even before I touched it. Getting out of my car, Ivy almost trips over her feet. At this point I realize she’s been caught off guard again. I squeeze her hand. “Who is it this time?”

She subtly points at an older man standing in front of the real estate office, looking at the local listings. “Henning’s father,” she says in a low voice. The man is rocking back and forth on his heels and toes, hands clasped behind his back, chin high in the air.

We can’t get to the cafe without passing him, so I tighten my grip on her hand and start walking.

As I think we’ll make it by him without him noticing, he turns and pins Ivy with a look. For a split second I think she’ll shrink, but Ivy doesn’t flinch. Her hand does get sweaty though.

“Deidrich,” she says politely but without warmth. The man takes a moment to look her up and down, completely ignoring my existence. I’m fine with it. “Congratulations on your daughter’s upcoming marriage.”

“Thank you. Henning’s mother mentioned you were here.” He waves a hand around, indicating the town. He points to the listings in the office window. “We’re considering a vacation home in the area.”

“I hope you like fog,” Ivy blurts. “Lots and lots of fog. You barely ever see the sun. Miserable.” I stop myself from looking up at the cloudless blue sky. Deidrich’s eyebrow goes up.

“And seagulls everywhere. You can barely eat outside because they’re always swooping in to steal your food. Big rats with wings. Everywhere.” Again, I don’t look around at the gull-less sky. But I don’t think he’s buying it.

“The parades are nice though,” I add. It’s a gut feeling, but I get the sense Deidrich is looking for a quiet place. “Lots of big drums and horns, marching up and down Front Street every other Sunday morning. Early.” Ivy nods vigorously, and I’m afraid she’ll give herself a cramp.

Deidrich looks puzzled. “We haven’t witnessed any parades while we’ve been here.”

“Not the season for them, with the horrible weather.” I have to give Ivy credit, she’s clinging to this story even though it’s obvious the man doesn’t believe her.

“Anyway, it was nice seeing you again, Deidrich. Have fun at the wedding, and maybe you can come back to Wavecrest when the weather isn’t so gray.” This time I do look up at the sky. Honestly, I don’t think it’s ever been so blue.

Deidrich tilts his head, studying her like she’s lost her mind. Which she has.

She pulls me down the street as I give him a wave over my shoulder.

“Parades?” she hisses when we’re far enough away. “Seriously?”

I squeeze her hand, forcing her to stop her march to the cafe. When I have her attention, I point up at the sky and give her my best you’re joking expression.

“Fine. Not our finest moment.”

“Speak for yourself. I thought the parade thing was an inspired choice. What’s his deal anyway? Is Henning’s whole family to be avoided? Are they all the enemy?”

She folds her arms across her chest, and I force my eyes to stay on her face, not on the hint of cleavage peeking out of her blouse.

With a sigh she says, “They’re...fine, I guess. But they’re a tight group and Henning’s their golden boy. I want them to tell him I look deliriously happy with my new boyfriend. He needs to finally get that we’re never getting back together.” She smiles up at me, but there’s still a furrow between her eyebrows.

“He’ll be gone in a few days, and you’ll be able to relax.” A pang hits my chest when I realize I’ll have no excuse to hold her hand or kiss her in public. “Want to grab a drink tonight? Ease those knots a little...” I put my hands on her shoulders and squeeze. I can feel the tightness locked in the hard muscles of her neck and upper back.

She deflates a little, a tiny bit of the tension leaving her. “I’m going to Meredith’s tonight for a girl’s night where Joanie will probably give me shit.”

“For what?”

She waves a finger between us. “This whole...situation.” She clamps her teeth down on her bottom lip like she’s said too much.

“Why would Joanie give you shit about us?”

“You know what, never mind. It’s silly.”

I know Ivy well enough to know that no amount of prodding will get it out of her, so I drop it for now. But why would Joanie be giving Ivy a hard time about this fake relationship?

THAT EVENING, I spot Henning at Foggy’s when I’m out with Colin and Stuart. He’s with a small group of people at a table near the karaoke stage.

He gives me a chin tip I return before ordering a beer from Alice at the bar and taking a stool next to Stuart.

Colin leans over and clears his throat. “Hey, you draw and shit, right?” I nearly choke on my beer.

Stuart looks at him like his eyebrows have slid off his face. “What the fuck? You’ve played Pictionary against the guy. Does he draw?” Stuart makes a pfft sound and shakes his head.

Colin blushes, and it’s quite a sight on a guy who looks like he’s part bear and could eat Stuart for breakfast. “Shut up, I’m nervous.”

“Lay it on me,” I say.

“I might have a commission for you. A special project for Joanie. It’s a surprise.” It’s hard to tell in the low light of the bar, but I think his eyes are a little glassy.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re going to ask her to marry you,” Stuart shouts like a kindergartner after three espressos. Colin slaps his hand over Stuart’s mouth.

“Hush, you numpty.” Stuart’s still talking behind Colin’s hand, his hands waving around.

I laugh and take a sip of my beer. “I’d be honored to do it. We can chat later. Where it’s quieter.” I side-eye Stuart. Colin’s shoulders lose some of their tension, and he finally takes his hand off Stuart’s mouth but waves a warning finger at him.

Stuart mimes zipping his lips but you can see him almost levitating out of his seat with excitement. We spend the next hour talking about nothing, bemoaning the state of San Francisco’s baseball team. And football team. And basketball team.

I spend most of the time doodling on a napkin, wishing I had some of my colored pens with me so I could fill in the strawberry blonde waves and hazel eyes.

Dale, the bartender, can’t help but add his opinion to the conversation. “Yeah, watching the Giants this season is almost as painful as watching Mars and Ivy fumble their way through their farce of a relationship.”

I don’t spit out my beer, but it’s close. “What the hell, dude? Keep your voice down.” I glance over at Henning’s table, but he’s far enough away that he couldn’t have heard Dale’s bullshit.

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “All I’m saying is that I’m not sure you’re convincing anyone. Like, why are you here without your ‘girlfriend’?”

“Because I wasn’t invited to girls night. And the ex has left Ivy alone, which is the goal.”

Dale wipes down the bar in front of me. “Doesn’t mean it should be the only goal.”

I’m afraid to ask him what he means. Apparently Stuart gets it, because he nods like Dale is handing out the most sage advice this bar has ever seen. I shake my head and Dale moves on to bother another customer. But his words play on a loop in my head. I can’t have a goal with Ivy beyond friendship, no matter how much I want more with her.

By the time I head out, I’ve forgotten about Henning and his friends. I shove my hands in my jacket pockets to walk the few blocks back to my place, the fog finally making an appearance after days of clear skies.

“You and Ivy, huh?” a voice says from behind me. I glance over my shoulder and Henning’s leaning against the wall a few feet away. His arms are folded over his chest, and his face is pulled into a pinched frown. I was looking forward to crawling into bed and thinking about my favorite fake girlfriend, but I guess we’re doing this.

My curiosity gets the better of me. I want to know what he has to say, but I don’t approach him, because I have no idea if he’s planning to take a swing at me or not. He doesn’t look like a fists-first kind of guy, but you never know.

“Yeah, me and Ivy.”

He gives me a long, assessing look. “Did she tell you about our breakup?”

“Some.”

“I thought we’d go the distance.” Henning flips his phone around and around in his hands like it’s his favorite fidget toy.

“I never understood why we ended,” he says. “She really got me, you know?” That gets my hackles up. People stroll by on the sidewalk, probably heading to a late dinner or home. I pay them no attention.

“You’re kidding,” I say through gritted teeth. “She understood you all too well, and I know for a fact that you never ‘got’ her. You couldn’t bother to see that Ivy was more than you gave her credit for?” His eyes widen, and I fist my hands at my side. Fuck projecting a relaxed mood.

He opens his mouth to say something, but I keep going. “You had no idea the kind of woman you had, which absolutely boggles my mind. How could you think Ivy would dim her light to be with you? She shines brighter than any person I’ve ever known, and she’s smarter than them too. But you belittled her, you dismissed her dreams. What kind of fragile asshole does that?

“Even if you weren’t such a sorry excuse for a boyfriend, she’d still be too good for you. Fuck, she’s too good for me, and I’d never pull the bullshit you did.” I can feel my pulse pounding in my head, and I take a breath.

“Tell me, Henning, what does Ivy’s company do? She must’ve told you a million times what she was planning on building.”

He scratches his ear and looks up at the sky. “Something to do with computers?”

“Jesus fucking Christ. No wonder she dumped your ass. ‘Something to do with computers?’ Seriously?” I step toward him, and he straightens against the wall.

“I know there’s little chance of avoiding you while you’re in town—Wavecrest is a small place. But do me a favor and forget you ever knew Ivy. That incredible woman has had enough of guys like you underestimating her, and she doesn’t need the reminder of the losers she’s dated.”

“What, like you’re any better?” He looks me up and down with a sneer. Have to admire this guy’s moxie, even if he’s wrong.

“Dude, I’m fully aware I don’t deserve her. Ivy’s everything. Smart, tenacious, determined, and unwilling to take anybody’s shit. If she wanted to, she could rule the world. The difference between me and you is that I recognize how fucking amazing she is. And because of that I get to be her fr...”

“Boyfriend,” a familiar voice says from behind me. Ivy steps up next to me and slides her hand into mine, giving me a wink.

I’m stunned silent for a moment, the sight of her hitting me in the chest like a giant wave. I want to rub at the aching spot but manage to stop myself.

“Babe.” It slips out. “I thought you were at Meredith’s.”

“She burned dinner so we went to Curly’s.” She nods at the diner across the street. “I spotted you through the window. Left a really great bowl of mac and cheese to see what this was all about.” She squeezes my hand and turns to her ex.

“Henning. Seems like we can’t throw a rock in this town without hitting you or one of the wedding party.” Her tone is droll and dry.

“I was telling Mars what a great relationship we had, until you decided you were too good for me,” Henning says. The balls on this guy.

“Of course, you never change, Henning. Still the same gaslighting bullshitter who I dumped almost a year ago. Listen, let’s make a deal. You enjoy your time in Wavecrest, have a lovely time at Greta’s wedding, and leave me and my boyfriend alone. We don’t know each other anymore, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’ve moved on to better things.” She squeezes my hand and I squeeze back.

Henning’s face flushes, and his fists clench. He looks like he has a lot of things to say, and I keep an eye on him even though Ivy at my side takes most of my focus.

She leans her head on my shoulder, and my chest inflates with too much pride, my heart forgetting none of this is real. I give her a quick kiss on the forehead before turning my attention back to Henning.

Henning’s shoulders curve inward, and he seems to deflate. “Fine.” He huffs like a put-out teenager, and regards Ivy with a blank look on his face. “Have a good life, Ivy.”

“I will.”

Henning turns around and walks down the street, shaking his head.

I lean over and whisper in Ivy’s ear, “How much of that did you hear?”

She smiles and pats my cheek, giving me nothing. “See you tomorrow.” Then she turns around and walks away. I watch her go, wondering if that sway in her hips is for my benefit or not.

IVY

I might’ve sprinkled a little extra spice into my walk. And no, I don’t want to tell you why. It has nothing to do with what I overheard Mars say about me and how it’s set my mind and body reeling. Or that, at this moment, I want to drag him home and do unspeakable things to him and then buy him an ice cream cone.

I keep walking, warring emotions fighting for space in my head and heart. Visions of Mars squaring off with my ex, his fists clenched and his eyes fierce, play in my head. His words create more cracks in my walls.

Arousal, affection, and the need to protect myself all battle each other for dominance. Arousal is winning the fight, and there’s only one way to quiet all the competing thoughts and feelings. I must consult my vibrator.

CHAPTER 8

BONFIRE CONFESSIONS AND QUESTIONABLE DECISIONS

MARS

Ivy shivers next to me on the thick picnic blanket. We’re under two more, but the night is bitterly cold, and the bonfire we’re next to isn’t doing much to warm us up.

The bonfire was Sylvie’s idea, and I love her for it, but there are parts of me that are frozen solid that shouldn’t ever get cold.

The sky above us is showing off, sparkling and free of fog, perfect for drawing. My pen is in my pocket but I’m too focused on Ivy next to me to want to pull it out and draw the night sky.

“You see the orange twinkly one?” I point up at the sky.

“Yeah?” Ivy says.

“That’s Mars. It always makes me a little happy when I spot it.” I pull my hand back underneath the blankets.

Ivy takes a moment to look at it, an inscrutable expression in her eyes. I’d never want to play poker against her. She turns over to face me, rearranging our cover and scooting closer.

“How many times have people asked you why you’re named Mars?” I’ve been waiting for this.

“Is that your way of asking why I’m named Mars?”

“No. Maybe. Yes.” Her smile brightens up her face.

“It’s not a particularly interesting story.”

“You’re probably lying. First, is it your given name or a nickname?”

“A nickname I’ve had since first grade.” I smile at the memory.

She makes a keep going motion with her hand. I sigh dramatically.

“My given name is...”

“No, don’t tell me. Let me guess.”

I sigh again.

“Knock yourself out.” I can’t wait to hear what she comes up with.

“Short for Marshall?”

I shake my head.

“Martin?”

“Nope”

“Marsden?”

I laugh.

“I give up. Why is your name Mars?”

“My real first name is Milton.”

“Oh, no.” She sounds like she’s trying to suppress her horror.

“Yeah, pretty bad. I was named after my great grandfather and went by Little Milt until the Mars thing happened.”

“I don’t see you as a Little Milt.” She’s working so hard to suppress a smile.

“Everybody else did. My older relatives used to love tousling my hair and calling me Little Milt. I hated it, so I was looking for any excuse to be called something else. In first grade we did a school play about the planets.”

“And you played Mars?” Her voice is hopeful, like this is the perfect solution to the Little Milt problem.

“You’d think, but I played Uranus.”

“Oh, no.” She sounds horrified again, and I want to laugh.

“The kid who played Mars was a real dick, and he didn’t get better as he grew up. Was a dick in high school too. Probably runs a private equity firm or a hedge fund now.”

“We’ll look him up later. Keep going,” she says, her face lit by the bonfire. I’m stunned for a small moment, wanting to commit this exact picture to memory. Her hazel eyes dance with humor, and her strawberry blonde hair catches and holds the fire. I could trace her jaw, her cheekbones with my finger if she leaned in a tiny bit more. Fuck, she’s beautiful.

I swallow past a lump in my throat.

“Anyway, he had a big red rubber dodgeball as a prop, and as we were going to take our bows, he threw it at my face and knocked out two loose teeth.”

“And instead of calling him Psycho Billy, they called you Mars? How is that fair?”

I shrug.

“It was a blessing in disguise because I could drop Little Milt. I insisted that everybody in my family call me Mars after the nickname caught on at school. The only one who still refuses is my stepmother.”

“Do we like your stepmother?”

I shrug. Ivy’s eyebrows draw together.

“Susan’s fine.” I could say more, but I figured out a long time ago that Susan’s opinion of me shouldn’t matter. Doesn’t matter.

“That’s a ringing endorsement.” Ivy scoots closer, resting her head on my shoulder. The whole right side of my body heats, and I turn my face to take in the smell of her citrusy shampoo as she snuggles even closer.

“My stepbrother is getting married in a couple weeks, and my presence has been requested.”

“And you don’t want to go?”

“Not my favorite side of the family. But my dad said it’d mean a lot to him if I came. Honestly, I don’t think my stepmom or brother care either way. The problem is I already RSVP’d yes.”

Ivy rolls onto her side and stares at me. “What?” I ask.

A slow, slightly wicked smile spreads across her lovely face, but she doesn’t answer. In that moment I know I’m a dead man.

IVY

After last night’s bonfire and late night, I’m tired and starving. Mars is nowhere to be found—not at his desk or in the kitchen. I don’t want to but I guess I’m eating a solo lunch. Pushing open the front door of The Base, I step outside into the bright sunlight. This morning’s fog burned off early.

My step falters when I spot Mars leaning up against the building, frowning as he talks on the phone. I don’t want to eavesdrop, but I have to walk by him to get to Curly’s.

“I know, Susan, but I don’t understand why it matters if I bring a date or not.” There’s a pause while Susan says something into his ear. “No, of course I’ve never planned a wedding, but...” He rolls his eyes at something she says.

“Okay, okay. Put me down as...”

I start bouncing on my heels in front of him, waving my hand in his face. Because I’m about to do something either very stupid or very brilliant.

“Hang on, Susan.” He taps mute and looks up at me with a cute little furrow between his brows. “What’s wrong with you? Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

I huff at him and smack him on the shoulder.

“No, you doofus. I’ll go.” He stares at me for a beat. “I’ll be your plus-one. I love weddings.”

“You have no idea what you’re volunteering for. I’m not sure this wedding will be your idea of fun.”

A voice squawks from the phone, and we realize he failed to mute it. He hits the button again and shakes his head.

“As long as we’re together, we’ll have a great time. Listen, crappy family situations are always better when you have an outside observer. Someone who can tell you that you’re being gaslighted and you’re not crazy.”

He looks back down at his phone, probably to check he hasn’t unmuted again.

“You’re sure? I would owe you big.”

“You owe me nothing. If anything, think of it as payback for pretending to be my boyfriend. And I thrive off other people’s drama, so this will be perfect.”

He gives me a long look, like he’s weighing the pros and cons.

He unmutes the phone and puts it back up to his ear. “Susan, I have a plus-one. Yes, that was really fast for me. Her name’s Ivy.” He smirks. “Yes, like the invasive species.” My mouth drops open, and he winks at me.

“No, I’m not telling her what color to wear. That’s a ridiculous thing to ask of guests at a wedding. Best I can do is make a suggestion, but she might stab me. No, she won’t stab anybody at the reception. Just don’t give her a steak knife.” I stomp my foot and bare my teeth. He winks at me again.

Mars’ lips break out in a wide smile, and his eyes glitter as he holds up his phone. The call ended.

“Did she hang up on you?”

“She doesn’t like long goodbyes or drawn-out conversations with me. She has your name for the place card. That’s all that matters.”

I smack him on the shoulder again. “Invasive species? Really? After I’m about to save your bucket at the wedding?”

He’s still laughing. He grabs my hand to stop me from assaulting his shoulder a third time, and I’m momentarily stunned by the flash of heat that zips through my body.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

But he’s not because his head tips back and he lets a case of the giggles take over. After a moment, I join in because his laugh is infectious. Tears stream down his face as he hiccups his way through it.

“Fuck, Ivy, you have no idea how awkward this is going to be. She insists everybody wear pastels to the wedding because nothing says love and commitment like a whole photo album of Stepford guests.” The last of his laugh subsides.

“But listen to me.” His face turns serious quickly. “You don’t have to pretend to be my girlfriend if you don’t want to. I know relationships make you twitchy.” Not that twitchy. “I’ll need my friend there, not a weird facsimile of a girlfriend. Agreed?”

“We had so much fun when you were my fake boyfriend, though.” It comes out as a whine. “But if you want to play this straight, we’ll do that. Whatever you need, Mars.”

He takes a deep breath and his shoulders relax. “Come on, my tribute, I’ll buy you lunch.”

I smile and loop my hand through his elbow, swallowing down the disappointment I feel at Mars not wanting me to be his fake girlfriend.

CHAPTER 9

COMMITTING TO THE BIT

MARS

The car ride is four and a half hours if the traffic’s okay. But this is California, so the traffic’s never okay. We’re heading east towards the foothills, through the Central Valley and away from the ocean. I’ve always lived near water, except when I had to spend every other weekend and three weeks during summer at my dad’s place.

He and Susan bought a house away from the coast, and every time I stayed there, a sense of being lost weighed on me. If I couldn’t see the ocean and the hills, how would I know where I was? Every house in their subdivision looked the same, and Susan made sure it stayed that way as the head of the HOA.

I remember leaving my bike on the front lawn for a couple hours and Susan received an admonishing phone call from a neighbor. You’d think I had pissed on the table in the middle of a dinner party. The way she froze me out for the rest of my three-week stay was one of many times I’d earned her displeasure.

I don’t spend a lot of time in that part of California despite my dad’s frequent invites.

After too many hours on the road and two stops, Ivy and I finally reach the hotel. My legs need a good stretch, and I’m glad I remember to bring my skateboard so I can work out my nerves.

The wedding’s up in the foothills, at a small resort carved out of the forest. On the long drive, Ivy took charge of music and snacks, and she nailed the assignment. I wish her competence in everything she does wasn’t so fucking sexy.

Adding to my pain, she’s wearing these little cut-off shorts that show an achingly tempting expanse of her long legs. It took all my concentration not to drive us into a ditch while staring at the spot where the frayed edges of the shorts teased her pale skin.

My brain has so little power over this consuming need for her it’s laughable. Once I acknowledged how attracted I am to her, my heart—and my dick—refuse to listen to reason. All they want is her. All they need is her.

Ivy’s standing by the trunk, stretching her back, giving me a glimpse of the silky looking skin of her belly. I wonder if the headline will read Local Man Dies From Lust-Induced Stroke, Could a Quick Wank Have Saved Him?

Instead of torturing myself further, I pop the trunk and unload our bags. Ivy takes hers from my hands, refusing to let me carry it.

Her face lit with excitement, she starts gushing about weddings as we make our way to the lobby from the parking lot. “Part of what I love about weddings is being able to take part in all the pomp and circumstance without having to do the planning myself. I get to look at the pretty flowers without thinking about how many hours went into picking the perfect color scheme.”

“You don’t ever want to plan your own wedding?” I try to keep visions of Ivy in a wedding dress at bay and fail miserably. I don’t dare picture the groom.

She shakes her head and laughs. If I didn’t know her so well, I would’ve missed the forced quality of it. Pointing to herself she says, “Don’t do relationships, remember?”

“Right. Almost forgot.” My brain sends an I told you so to my heart and dick.

I shake the thoughts away and concentrate on the weekend ahead of us. Tonight’s the rehearsal dinner and tomorrow’s the wedding. Then I can let out a cleansing breath once we’re in the car headed back to Wavecrest.

But first things first, checking into our room.

IVY

Mars had warned me that we’d be sharing a room, and I won’t admit to hoping Joanie’s right about there being only one bed. Whenever we hang out, he gives good snuggle. I wouldn’t mind waking up with him wrapped around me. I have not thought about other things, though, because friends don’t do other things.

This weekend is either going to prove me to be a liar or set me on the path to becoming a sainted nun.

Mars checks us in and picks up his skateboard from where it leans against the counter.

“Why’d you bring that?” I ask, nodding to the colorfully painted skateboard. The cartoon-style grizzly bear on the bottom of the deck is so obviously Mars’ work, it makes me smile.

“Helps me destress.”

After gathering up our things, we head for the elevators, but before I can hit the button, a small, taut woman with severe lip liner steps in front of us, followed by a man who’s obviously Mars’ father. The woman looks like she’s written many strongly worded emails in her lifetime.

“Hello Milton. I’m glad you finally made it.” We’re here at least two hours before the rehearsal dinner.

Mars leans down and kisses her cheek. “Susan. Lovely weekend to have a wedding.” Oh, he’s good. His polite, unconcerned response seems to anger her even more. This must be one of his strategies for dealing with his stepmother. Go Mars.

His dad steps around Susan and wraps Mars in a quick hug with a light pat on his back. “Good to see you, son.”

“You too, Dad.” Mars wraps his arm around my shoulder. “This is Ivy. Ivy, this is my dad, Mike.” I can’t stop staring, even when I reach out my hand to shake his. If this is what Mars will look like in twenty to thirty years, sign me up. They have the same eyes and chin, the same hair, except Mike’s is salt and pepper, and darker than Mars’ in the pepper parts.

“And this is my stepmom, Susan.” I shake her hand but am left with a weird sense of disappointment at how weak her handshake is.

“It’s lovely to meet you. Thank you for including me in the festivities.” See, I can be nice. Polite, even.

“Yes, well.” She looks like she’s at a loss. Turning to Mars she says, “Why am I not surprised you brought that thing?” For a second I think she’s talking about me, until I realize she’s looking at the skateboard in Mars’ grip.

He doesn’t respond to her question but turns to his dad instead. “Everything ready for tomorrow?”

“Beyond ready. Your mother has gone over every detail at least five times.” Mike rocks back and forth on his feet, seemingly brimming with excitement, but I didn’t miss how Mars stiffened next to me when Mike said mother.

“How’s Reggie doing? Is he excited to finally get married?” He addresses this question to Mike also, and Susan frowns, probably irked that she’s being frozen out of the conversation.

Mars turns to me. “Reggie and Jen have been together for years, so this wedding is a long time coming,” he explains.

“They were waiting until they were financially stable,” Susan says, her voice dripping with irritation. Mike nods in agreement.

There’s an awkward silence until Mars breaks it. “Right. We’re going to get unpacked and unwind before dinner.”

“The rehearsal dinner’s at seven in the main dining room,” Susan says.

“Great, we’ll—”

“And since there are so many people coming and the bridal party is so big, we put the overflow in the pavilion.” She motions outside.

“And I assume we’re with the overflow crowd?” Mars is trying to hide it, but I can tell his stepmother’s words sting. His shoulders are rigid and a small frown pulls down the corners of his usually smiling mouth. I hate this woman already.

Mike might need a little kick in the shins too seeing as how he’s avoiding eye contact with his son.

Mars reaches around Susan and presses the elevator call button. Watching the whole exchange, I want to hiss at her, maybe make a tiny doll filled with her hair and stick pins in it.

But she’s saved by the elevator gods, and the doors open right away. We step around the couple and into the car. Mars furiously hits the close button while Susan stares at us. I stare back. She flinches first.

The doors slide closed, and Mars leans his head against the wall, letting out a huge breath.

“So that’s Susan,” he says to the ceiling.

“She’s a peach.”

He snorts. “She’s something. Also, the only reason Reggie and Jen are finally financially solvent is because my dad gave them a huge chunk of cash and promoted Reggie before he’d been at dad’s company for a year.” I’m not used to the bitterness in Mars’ voice, and I feel a corresponding ball of acid in my stomach.

The muscles around his eyes and mouth are tight, so tense. This is my easygoing, nothing-bothers-him friend Mars. I mentally steel myself for what’s coming. He needs a shield, and I’m going to have fun being that for him.

The doors slide back open, and we exit the elevator. Before we get too far down the hallway, I put my things down and rest my hand on his forearm. “Hey. You’ve got me here this weekend. You’re not going through family drama alone, so it’s okay to lean on me. Understood?”

The lines around his mouth loosen as he gives me a small smile. “Thanks for—”

“Nuh uh,” I interrupt him. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m fully capable of blowing up your relationships with everyone here. I could be the cause of several rifts. Wait until the weekend is done before thanking me.”

His smile grows. “Promises.”

Down the hall, he opens our room, and...yep. That’s one king sized bed. No sofa, and not a lot of floor space. I fight a smile at how cozy the room is. Joanie’s going to have a field day with this information.

I take a moment to admire the blush on Mars’ face.

“I can sleep on—”

“Nope. We’re grown-ups, and the bed is huge. Nobody’s sleeping in the tub or on the floor. Now, let’s get settled in so you can take your skateboard for a spin.”

I quickly take a picture of the one bed and send it to Joanie. Within seconds she responds.

JOANIE

Son of a mother flippin’ biscuit, I KNEW IT. Take notes...I’ll need them for my next book.

Then she sends me a series of indecipherable emojis and a picture of the painting The Scream.

She’s going to be so disappointed when I tell her nothing happened.

MARS HAS me completely in his sway while I watch him take a jump down a short set of stairs, his board hitting the pavement with a satisfying clack. The man can skateboard. It shouldn’t be shocking considering how good of a surfer he is. But contrast that with the fact that he tripped over his own feet twice on the way down from our room and…well, color me surprised

I’m sitting on a curb in the small hotel parking lot. It’s terraced, and there’s only a few cars and a party bus nearby, so Mars has been skating back and forth, doing small tricks and jumps. His face finally relaxes and his body looks like it’s one with the board.

I watch as he uses his powerful leg to get himself up to speed, crouch over the board, and then suddenly spring up, doing a kick that sends the board into a spin before it lands on its wheels with him on top of it. I let out a little cheer and clap.

He coasts over to my perch and kicks the board up into his waiting hand. Fucking hot.

“You ever skated?” he asks me.

I snort. “No. I value my limbs.”

“Want to learn?”

“What, now?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Because a cast would ruin the line of the dress I brought for tomorrow.”

He laughs. “I won’t let you fall, I promise. I won’t even let you roll anywhere. Come and stand on it, practice your balance.” I look up into his smiling face and something in me says why the fuck not.

I stand up and brush off my backside. “Okay, sure. Teach me your skateboarding ways, mister Jedi.”

He laughs. “I thought you were into Star Trek, not Star Wars.”

“I’m a broad-spectrum nerd.”

He lays the board down at my feet, and I’m glad I wore sneakers for our drive out here. I place one foot on the board, and it immediately rolls out from under me.

I wobble a little and Mars’ hands go to my hips to steady me. “Whoa. It’s all about Newton’s third law. You applied force, so it went flying. Let’s try again.”

I manage to step on the board without falling off, but I’m very unsteady. “Don’t let go.” I’m not proud of the little wire of panic that runs through my words.

His grip on my hips tightens as he looks up at me. His expressive eyes hold me in place. “I won’t let you fall. Ever.” Oh honey, we might be a little late for that.

MARS

If this is the dress Ivy chose for the night-before dinner, tomorrow’s dress will probably kill me. The deep emerald green makes her skin glow, and the neckline cutting across her collarbones makes me want to press my lips there, to the hollow of her throat. I suck in a steadying breath but it’s not doing me much good.

She came out of the bathroom looking classy and sexy, like she’s wearing armor. Her shoulders are back, her strawberry blonde hair partially pulled back on one side revealing diamond studs.

She’s always breathtaking, but something about seeing her ready to dive into the passive aggressive can of worms that is my stepfamily warms me from the inside. I’m just glad my suit jacket hides the evidence of my appreciation.

I’m wearing dress shoes, which usually means I’m more likely to trip or step on someone. I live in sneakers in the real world, and the possibility of falling flat on my face makes me nervous. Normally I wouldn’t care, but the thought of embarrassing Ivy fills me with a sharp dread.

She must see something on my face because she gives me a tight hug. She gives the best fucking hugs. Ivy may be a badass business lady with her own company, but that tough shell does a poor job of hiding her inner marshmallow. I’m grateful I’m one of the few people she allows to see it.

“You look nervous,” she says as she pulls back. If we could skip dinner and keep hugging, I’d be a happy guy.

I let out a heavy, pent-up breath. “I’m going to warn you now, I’m wearing shoes I’m not used to and things could get ugly. Embarrassing.” She lets out a little laugh.

“I’m not easy to embarrass, and no offense but I don’t really care what these people think of me. Tonight is recon—I want to get the lay of the land before the big show tomorrow.”

“I love how committed you are to this. I’m almost glad we came.”

She pats me on the arm. “Come on, champ. Let’s go meet the rest of the family.”

IVY

“We need a signal,” I tell Mars as we head into dinner.

“A signal for what?” He puts his hand on the small of my back, leading us to a large table outside the main dining room. A signal for what, Ivy? I can’t remember because the weight of his hand hit a switch that turned off my higher brain function.

Giving myself a little shake, I manage to form a coherent thought. “So you can tell me if the people we’re interacting with are in the like, don’t like, or neutral columns.”

He smiles at me, the tiny lines around his eyes distracting me almost as much as his hand on my back. “It’d probably be bad form to say, ‘Go get ‘em, Ivy,’ out loud.”

“Yeah, maybe you can rub your nose for someone you don’t want to interact with. Your eyebrow for people you like.” I think for a second. “And tug your earlobe for neutrals.”

“People are going to think I’m on drugs if I keep touching my face like that.”

“I see your point.” We reach our table before anyone else. Mars pulls out my chair, something nobody has done for me except my dad and maitre d’s at fancy restaurants.

“How about a safeword for when it’s okay to hulk out on someone?”

I press a hand to my chest. “I would never...”

He laughs. “Sure you wouldn’t. Let’s make this easy. My dad’s side of the family is fine. Susan’s relatives take their cues from her so are to be avoided if possible. I consider everybody else neutral.”

“How do you want me to play this? Doting girlfriend? Avenging angel sent to right all previous wrongs? Passive aggressive kitten with claws?” I prop my chin on my hand and bat my eyelashes at him.

Mars leans closer, keeping his voice low. Goosebumps race down my neck when his lips graze my ear.

“I just want you to be Ivy. Nothing more, nothing less.” He pulls back enough for me to see the earnest, warm look in his deep brown eyes. Like me being myself is his favorite thing in the world. I fight the urge to melt into him, to be wrapped in his special Mars-ness. For the millionth time, I think about what a great boyfriend he’ll will make someone.

But for the first time, I’m ready to admit there’s a tiny part of me that wants him to be my boyfriend. And that scares the shit out of me. I lock that fear away in a little box and toss it in a deep, dark corner of my brain.

“Passive aggressive kitten it is.”

MARS

Dinner that night is shockingly drama free as far as family goes. It stings a little that almost everyone I’m related to through marriage is inside, and I’m stuck at the coworkers and friends from college table. But it makes for a quiet evening.

Some of my stepbrother’s old frat brothers who didn’t make the wedding party cut share our table. Ivy’s quiet, sipping her wine and observing our tablemates.

One of the guys, whose name I forgot but I’m calling Sloppy because he can’t hold his liquor, leans across the table, obviously trying to flirt with Ivy. Part of me can’t blame him. She’s stunning. But also...hello...I’m right here.

Not that we’re anything other than friends. She can flirt with anyone she wants. But Sloppy doesn’t seem to be her cup of tea. She sits back in her chair with a smirk—one I know well. She deploys it when she’s dealing with a recalcitrant client on the phone or she’s about to kick Will’s ass in a hand of poker.

Sloppy goes on and on about the good ol’ college days with Reggie, all while glancing at Ivy’s chest. I feel my fist clench but take a deep breath. I’m not a violent person. I don’t solve things with my fists. But I do wrap my arm around her and give him the good ol’ back off look.

Ivy might be mad at me for it later. Who knows, maybe she likes douche canoes like him, but I doubt it. She’s all fierceness and smarts and class. The Sloppys of the world don’t deserve her.

Not like I do either.

IVY

This guy sitting across from me, conversing with my boobs, is a real gift to humankind. Luckily, he’s no relation to Mars, whose arm rests on the back of my chair. His fingers absentmindedly toying with my hair. Normally I’d bristle at displays of possession. But I like the heat of Mars’ arm and the warmth of his side against mine as I assess this guy sitting at our table.

He snaps his fingers like he’s trying to remember where he knows Mars from. “Mars...Mars. I think Reggie told me a story about you.”

The arm across my shoulders tenses, so I place my hand on his thigh. Steady. There’s a question in his eyes before he turns his attention back to Steve. Steph? Sean? S-Dude? Yeah, let’s go with S-Dude.

“I can only imagine the stories Reggie has told. Don’t believe all of them.” There’s rocks in his voice, a flintiness I’ve only heard him use with Henning.

S-Dude doesn’t seem deterred. “Are you the stepbrother that spilled punch on his prom date’s dress?”

“I’m his only stepbrother.” His non-answer is telling. S-Dude looks confused. Maybe it’s the alcohol but I doubt it.

I lean forward, and S-Dude’s eyes catch on my boobs again. “Luckily, Mars’ skills with women have vastly improved since his teenage years. Same can’t be said for everybody.” I turn to Mars. “Isn’t that right, honey bear?” I give his muscled thigh a significant squeeze, and his eyes go wide for a split second.

“Honey bear?” he mouths. Go with it, my eyes say.

“I don’t know. You’d have to be the judge of my skills with women,” he pauses, and his eyebrows draw together. “Sweetheart.”

I rub my hand up Mars’ thigh. Not that S-Dude can see it, but I’m fully committing to the bit. “Well, let me assure you that Mars is very…capable.” Why am I doing this? We don’t even know this guy. I came to this wedding as Mars’ friend. Not his girlfriend, fake or otherwise, and at the first sign of someone being a dick I jump into must protect my man mode.

It feels too easy.

MARS

I’m so confused. My dick isn’t, but the rest of me is.

CHAPTER 10

GETTING OVER THE HUMP...IN BED

MARS

“Iguess we’re doing the girlfriend thing now?” I close the hotel room door behind us, kicking off my shoes and loosening my tie.

“Are you mad?” Ivy asks, her hands on her hips, and a challenge in her eyes.

“Not in the least, but I was a little thrown.” I’m the opposite of mad. Thrilled but wary.

Ivy slips out of her shoes and removes the clip holding up her hair. I want to run my fingers through it, press my face into the skin below her ear. My chest aches with the need for it.

Ever since she kissed me in front of Henning that first time, I’ve wanted her. No, before that. Since she almost turned me into roadkill under her car tires. But Ivy’s only ever offered friendship, and that’s fine. I don’t expect more from her. That’s not why I’m friends with her.

She loudly and famously doesn’t do relationships, so when she gleefully volunteers to be my girlfriend this weekend even though I told her she didn’t have to...it makes my head spin. It lights a little hopeful spark in my chest that needs snuffing out.

“That guy was so...” Ivy’s frustrated growl snaps my attention back to her. She balls her fists and stamps her foot. It’s the cutest thing I’ve seen. And Ivy isn’t ever cute, she’s graceful, fierce, and stunning. Never cute.

I unbutton my dress shirt and take it off, leaving me in a white undershirt.

When I turn back around from dropping the shirt on a chair I catch Ivy staring. It’s only a split second, but I see her eyes drag across my shoulders and down my torso. My face heats, but I’ll be coming back to that look for years. I take deep breaths, trying to will my cock to stay calm, but he’s got other ideas.

“Ives, if you let every unpleasant person we encounter at this wedding get to you, you’re going to be a big bag of stress by the end of it.” I take what I need out of my bag and head for the bathroom. I don’t close the door fully because I want to keep this conversation going.

“Yeah, well, that guy needs to eat a big bag of something. Dicks, for example.” Like I said...classy. I quickly change out of my suit pants and put on my navy blue joggers and brush my teeth. I step out of the bathroom to find Ivy spinning in a circle trying to get at the zipper of her dress.

“Okay, down tiger. We still have another day of this. Want to watch something before bed? Maybe it’ll help you unwind.” Her fierce, tired expression softens as she steps closer to me. “You can pick. Think of it as your reward for being such a good sport tonight.”

“Where’s my pizza party and trophy?” she mutters and then seems to deflate.

She wraps her arms around me and rests her head on my shoulder. I know it’s a friendly hug, but it feels...significant. Weighted with something I can’t name.

I rub my hands up and down her spine, enjoying the feel of her pressed against me, her back muscles loosening. “Hey, while you’re back there can you unzip me?” she mumbles into my shoulder.

“Yep. Sure.” I honestly didn’t think my voice could go that low. I find the zipper at the neckline of her dress and drag it down slowly. I almost miss the hitch in her breath as my fingers skim down her spine, but it’s there.

Ivy quickly steps back, tucking her hair behind her ear. I smile at the familiar gesture. “Thanks.” Her voice is a little shaky. I’m going to assume it’s because she’s tired and not that we were in each other's arms. Hugging is nothing new for us. She’s a hugger; I’m a hugger. There’s a lot of hugging in our friendship. If I say hug one more time, the law dictates I have to get it tattooed somewhere on my body.

“Are you done in the bathroom?” She holds the front of her dress to her chest so it doesn’t slide down.

“All yours,” I say, stepping aside so she can get her pajamas. I try, I really try, not to notice the strip of skin showing where I unzipped her dress, but I fail fucking miserably. As soon as the bathroom door closes, I let out a huge breath and blink out of whatever trance Ivy has me in.

As I’m turning down the covers on the king-sized bed, Ivy comes out of the bathroom, her face freshly washed and no sign of the warrior I had by my side tonight. She’s all loose hair, comfy sleep shorts, and worn shirt.

She’s so fucking beautiful, it hurts to look at her.

I turn off the overhead lights, turn on the lamp next to the bed, and crawl in as Ivy’s laying her dress over my shirt on the chair. I like how they look together, our mingled clothes taking on more significance than they should.

“You pick the movie. Nothing scary or too violent, otherwise I won’t sleep.”

She smiles at me. “I love how you’re such a softy.”

“Guilty.” No shame in knowing what I like.

Ivy sits on the bed, her legs crossed, remote in hand. “I know we said movie, but RuPaul’s Drag Race is on, and that’s my go-to hotel room show.”

I laugh as I relax against the headboard. “Mine is Criminal Minds. Isn’t it weird that people have shows they only watch when they travel?”

She relaxes back, leaning into me so I get a hint of her minty toothpaste and citrusy shampoo. “Maybe because when you travel you can be any version of yourself you want to be. Indulge in guilty pleasures, even if you normally wouldn’t.” She catches my eye and the words guilty pleasure shimmer in the air between us. Her breath hitches as a tempting little blush brightens her cheeks. A matching heat fills my belly.

There’d be no guilt, all pleasure with Ivy. Having her would be shout-it-from-the-rooftops pleasure.

Trying to fill my mind with visions of puppies and baseball, I pluck the remote out of her hand and hit play.

After a couple episodes, we crawl under the covers and turn out the lights but keep the TV on. Ivy’s eyes droop as she leans on my shoulder. I’m losing my fight with sleep too. Even the drama of Drag Race can’t keep me awake after the up and down emotions of today.

Ivy’s warm breath feathers against my neck as I reach for the remote to finally turn off the TV. I close my eyes with the feel of her hand gently wrapped around my forearm and her head on my shoulder. I curl into her and let myself drift off, feeling like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

IVY

Sunlight slices into our room as I slowly blink awake. Awake and aware. Aware of the heavy arm slung across my hips. Aware of thighs pressed against the back of my own. Very aware of Mars’ good-morning cock pressed against my ass. No complaints—he’s the best kind of weighted blanket.

I’m woman enough to admit I don’t hate this. In fact, I kinda love it. Sharing a bed with a friend doesn’t mean you’re in a relationship. It means you’re comfortable with each other. God I’m horny. After seeing Mars in a wetsuit and then seeing him in a suit...a girl can only take so much.

I don’t mean to, but I scoot a tiny bit further into his arms. He lets out a happy little hum, and his arm bands tighter around me. Success. Except I’m still horny and he smells divine. All sleepy and warm, with a hint of the hotel’s soap.

I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep, but my body is aware and humming. My morning brain spins with possibilities. What if I turned around to face him? What if I kissed him awake? What if we got each other off in this anonymous hotel room, hundreds of miles from home? Would it even count?

“I can hear the hamster wheel in your head squeaking. Stop thinking so loudly,” his gravelly morning voice mumbles into my hair. Then he stiffens, and I know he’s just realized how our bodies are arranged. How close he is, how he makes the perfect big spoon even with our similarity in height. His surfer-earned bulk is solid and comforting, but I can feel him starting to pull away.

Without thinking, I grab the arm still on my hip. “No,” I say too loudly. “No, this is nice. And...and it’s cold in here.” I’m not completely lying—the room’s heat is weak.

“Are you sure? I don’t even know how we ended up like this.”

“A dip in the middle of the mattress probably.”

“Probably,” he says with a hint of a smile in his voice.

Mars curls around me, and I sigh into his furnace-like warmth. I shift my feet back and try to tuck them between his calves.

He lets out a yelp but doesn’t move. “Jesus, woman, your feet are fucking freezing.” He sounds so offended, and I giggle. “I thought you put on socks last night.”

“I did, but I managed to kick them off. Middle-of-the-night me hates wearing socks.”

He rubs his legs against my feet, trying to warm them. I sigh again even if it does nothing for my horniness. My ice-block feet didn’t shrink his erection. It’s still pressed against my ass, and I don’t mind it at all.

“Ignore that,” he says, his voice sounding like it’s coming from the depths of a gravel pit. I peek over my shoulder and see the tips of his ears are bright red.

“Nope. Not ignoring it. What’s the point of having a dick if people can’t point out when it embarrasses you?”

“You’re the nicest person I know,” he sasses. Then his fingers dig into my ribs and I let out a squeal. “Oh look, tough old Ivy is ticklish.” I squeal again and flip over so I’m facing him. I try to tickle him back but he doesn’t even flinch.

“Wait, you’re not ticklish? How is that fair?” He smiles at me and reaches for my stomach with wiggly fingers. So I use the best defense I have. I stick my cold feet against his legs and he yelps again.

“Aha! Victory!” Big mistake. Huge. He licks his finger like he’s about to give me a wet willy. You know when you’re being chased by a bear and you get an amazing rush of adrenaline? It’s like that, but different.

I manage to flip Mars onto his back while gripping his hands so I’m straddling him, pinning him to the mattress. We’re laughing...until we’re not.

He wiggles his fingers, and I tighten my grip on his wrists. “Uh uh. There will be no tickling. No wet willying or other shenanigans.” But I make the fatal mistake of leaning my face too close to his, so he manages to lick my cheek. I yelp but don’t loosen my grip.

And because I’m petty and believe in a policy of escalation, I lick his nose. He closes his eyes and shakes his head back and forth because I don’t stop at the nose. So help me, we’re still playing, but at some point, I decide to pepper his face with kisses.

Then I feel it. His cock twitches against my core where I’m straddling him. “Hello there.” I raise an eyebrow, giving Mars a look.

A blush rises up his cheeks but he says, “Hello to me or my dick?”

“Both?” I let go of his hands and sit up. His hands immediately go to my thighs, holding me to him.

I decide to test a theory and slide myself back a tiny bit, his thickness rubbing against me in a way that has my body buzzing.

“Ivy...” It’s a warning, but his eyes are heavy-lidded, and his hands move to my hips.

“Want me to get off?” I ask.

“Depends on how you mean that. No, if you mean going back to your side of the bed. Yes, if you mean me making you come. Up to you.” He gently pinches my hip and gives me a wicked little smile.

Oh he’s adorable. And I’m even hornier now than when I woke up.

I slide myself back along his length, and his Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow. Even through our layers of sleepwear, I can feel the heat of him.

I hum in pleasure. “You wouldn’t mind if I kept doing this?” I move my hips again, and a groan spills from his lips, my core clenches, and I can feel how wet I’m getting.

“Nope. Opposite of mind. Welcomed. Encouraged.” He licks his lips as he watches me move, his eyes glued to where I straddle him.

“Good.” I move again, picking up my tempo. My breath catches when I feel the head of his cock bump against my clit. “Oh yep, right there.”

“Fuck, Ivy. What are we doing?” It’s an excellent question. He doesn’t sound like he’s having regrets.

“Remember when...when we talked about how you can be your away-from-home self in a hotel? That’s all that’s happening. We're something else right now. But outside this hotel room we’re still just Ivy and Mars, friends.”

“What happens in the foothills stays in the foothills?” His question comes out on a groan.

“Yep.” My breath catches when he twitches against me again. He closes his eyes for a moment, burying his head in his pillow.

He lifts his hips off the bed, and I feel him against my clit again. I shiver with the pleasure of it. “Good, because I don’t want to stop.”

“Please don’t stop.” I’m close to begging. The tiny asshole part of my brain knows this is not something we should be doing. This friendship doesn’t need complications. But god he feels so good, and I’m so close.

Electricity races up and down my spine, warming me everywhere. Mars’ hands grip my hips, moving me back and forth along his length. Fuck, I’ve forgotten how hot dry humping can be. College me really knew what she was doing.

I take one of his hands and pull it up to my breast, over my T-shirt. He grunts, squeezing and rubbing my aching nipple as his hips pick up speed. My legs begin to shake, and I know I’m so close to the edge.

“Mars...gonna...” That’s all I have because words aren’t an option anymore.

“Come on, Ivy. I’m right there with you.” Another rub of his length against me, the cotton of my panties damp and rubbing against my clit. He pinches my nipple, and that’s it.

I come with a broken moan, throwing my head back and riding him until the stars behind my eyelids flicker out.

I keep riding him, focusing on how his jaw looks when he clenches his teeth, how his eyes are locked in on my breasts as they sway with our movements. That was one of the best orgasms of my life, and I’m still fully clothed. And it might not be over because I feel another one building as he thrusts off the bed, trying to rock his cotton-covered cock against my core.

“Fuck, too good,” he bites out and presses his head back into his pillow, coming with a loud groan. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. His chorded neck straining with his release, his mouth dropped open, his pecs flexing beneath his T-shirt as he continues to come.

I take his hand, bring it to the front of my sleep shorts, and he presses his thumb to my clit. The stars ignite again, and I let out a whimper, my body shaking with a second orgasm. My muscles twitch as Mars comes down from his own release.

Collapsing onto the bed and gasping for breath, I roll onto my back with a giant smile on my face.

“God, I needed that.” A weird giddiness has taken up residence in my chest. For now it’s drowning out the quiet question of whether we damaged our friendship.

“Yep, me too.” I hear a tightness in Mars’ voice as he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. I roll over to face him.

“Hey.” I wait until he looks at me, a question in his eyes.

“I don’t regret what happened. Do you?”

His mouth drops open, and his eyes widen. “God no. I could never regret anything I do with you. But...”

“But you’re worried.”

“How can I not be? You’re one of my best friends, Ivy. Toss sex into the mix and it’s either a recipe for disaster or the best thing ever. And I know how you feel about relationships, so did we just throw a big fucking wrench into...whatever this is?” He motions between the two of us.

“Whoa there, turbo. There’s miles of space between...this...and a relationship. We had fun, we both got off. Thanks for that by the way.” His cheeks turn an adorable shade of red. “And now we get cleaned up, make ourselves pretty for this wedding, and have some fun. This doesn’t need to change anything.” Please don’t let it change anything.

Mars gives me a long look, searching my face for something. I try to keep my expression open and neutral. I need him to believe that nothing changes.

Because while I’m putting on a we’re totally cool front, I’m freaking the fuck out right now. Mars rocked my world, and I don’t know what to do with that.

CHAPTER 11

BEST WEDDING DATE EVER

MARS

“Show time,” Ivy says into the mirror, smoothing her dove gray dress over her hips. It’s not pastel, but it’s subtle and elegant. I’m sure Susan will find something to say, and I’m almost looking forward to it.

The zipper at her back is only halfway up, so I pull it the rest of the way, fighting the urge to run my tongue along her soft skin. “You look like a dream,” I whisper in her ear. She smiles at me in the mirror and flips her hair over her shoulder so it hangs in loose waves down her back. Stunning.

Her dress fits her like she was born to wear it. With her low heels she’s almost my height. I could pull her back against me, run my hands up her ribs to her silk-covered breasts, suck on her earlobe, all without messing up her makeup or wrinkling the dress. I’d be so careful with her.

Ivy looks so put together, so graceful, nothing like she did when she was riding my clothed dick this morning. It plays on a loop in my head, the way her mouth fell open when she came, how her whole body shook with her release. How it felt to be the one to get her there.

What happens in the hotel room stays in the hotel room, except when it happens in my imagination and memory.

I close my eyes for a moment, tucking the vision of what she looks like when she lets go into my pocket like a good luck charm. Like a talisman that’ll protect me from whatever bullshit comes my way today.

When I open them again I catch Ivy staring at me in the mirror while she puts on her earrings. Her smile is subtle and secretive, and a pulsing heat rushes south, making my cock twitch.

“You’re going to be the best part of this wedding,” I say, my eyes locked on hers in the mirror.

Ivy turns around, now fiddling with a delicate gold bracelet. “Thank you.” Her eyes start at my brown wingtips and make their way up my fitted blue suit, and over my barely pink shirt. Her eyes linger on the slightly darker pink tie. “You…” She swallows heavily and I smile. “You’re very handsome. I mean,” She swallows again. “I mean you do a nice job of cleaning up.”

I’ll take it. I hold out my elbow. “Ready?” She loops her hand through my arm, glancing up at me through her thick eyelashes. Before I open the door, a hint of an evil smile touches her lips.

“Ready.”

IVY’S SHOULDERS ARE BACK, her chin up, and she has her try me face on. It’s hot as fuck. As we take our seats a few rows back from the floral arch, I lean in to whisper, “Relax. Remember, we’re going to try to enjoy ourselves. You don’t need to be Warrior Ivy.”

“Oh but honey, I can be so many versions of myself and today feels like a day for armor.” She squeezes my hand where it sits on my thigh. Before I can think about it, I flip my hand over so we’re palm to palm, and I don’t let go. Ivy slides me a questioning look but doesn’t pull her hand away.

“You scare me sometimes. No wonder your company is so successful, if you put this much effort into a job,” I say.

She squeezes my hand. “This isn’t a job. It’s a mission.” She looks around at the people in the surrounding seats. “Don’t you need to sit with your family?”

I shake my head. “I’d prefer not to.” Although I wouldn’t mind showing her off.

People stare, and I don’t hate it. My younger stepbrother, Jaylen, tosses a smirk my way from where he’s talking to his aunt. Susan told him his face would freeze that way, and she was right. He’s got a perma-asshole look that hasn’t changed since middle school.

“Anybody that you’re required to be nice to, that you don’t want me pissing off?”

I think for a moment. “Aside from my dad, I really like my cousin Leeza. My dad’s whole side of the family is fine. Great, even. But I don’t know how many will be here since this is mostly Susan’s show.”

At the mention of Susan’s name, Ivy’s hmm is filled with judgement. Part of me hopes for a peaceful day and us being able to slip out of here early. But a dark, mean little part of me—the not so nice part—wants to see Ivy unleashed. Ivy as a shield-maiden, riding into battle with an axe and armor would be so fiercely hot.

My brain lights up with an image. I pat my pocket for my pen and flip the wedding program over to the blank back.

We still have a few minutes before the wedding starts, and I want to get this idea down on paper. Ivy freezes. “Is that...is that me?”

“Maybe,” I whisper, not stopping the quick strokes of my pen. A thought occurs to me, and I glance up from the paper. “Also, don’t piss off the bride. I like Jen, even if I question her taste in husbands.”

Ivy huffs out a breath. “It’s not like I’m planning on causing a scene. Maybe getting a tad verbally stabby, but only if I’m provoked.”

I look up again from the sketch, smiling at how this highly polished, elegant woman can throw down with the best of them. I knock my shoulder into hers. “I’m glad you’re in my corner, Ives. And that I haven’t made it onto your shit list. Yet.”

She touches her temple briefly to my shoulder and continues scanning the crowd. “I’ll always be in your corner. And I can’t imagine you doing anything to get on my bad side.”

We’re only a few minutes away from the start of the wedding when the person in front of us turns around and gives us a once over. It takes everything to hold back a groan.

Lenny. One of Susan’s nephews. He’s the kind of guy who thinks everybody should be in on the joke, even if the joke isn't funny.

“Hey, Marzipan.” He gives me a bro nod and snorts at his nickname for me.

“Lenny, always a pleasure.” Never a pleasure but I have to make it through this wedding, and I’m going to start off diplomatically if it kills me.

“Break anything lately?” Another laugh because he’s so clever. Before I can say anything, I hear Ivy mutter, “I’m going to break something if he’s not careful.” Lenny definitely heard it because his eyes go wide as he gapes at her.

She plasters a sugary sweet smile on her face like she didn’t just threaten him. “Hi, I’m Ivy.” She shakes his hand, and he winces at her tight grip. I might be in love already.

I swallow a laugh. “Ivy, this is the groom’s cousin, Lenny.”

“Leonard,” he corrects. I shrug.

Ivy sucks in a breath and turns to me, her eyes comically wide. “Oh, is this the guy...?” She makes complex hand motions in his direction, either indicating he fucked a sheep or got probed by aliens. Her eyes are saying play along.

“No,” I say but nod my head yes. Lenny’s face is comically confused, a look I’ve seen before.

She turns back to him. “Well, good luck. I hope it clears up,” she says loudly enough for people in the surrounding seats to turn around. Lenny splutters and turns back around.

“You’re amazing. I want to buy you a puppy.” I sling my arm around her shoulder and squeeze her to my side.

She laughs. “No puppy necessary. Being able to do that all day will be reward enough.”

IVY

On her way to taking pictures after the ceremony, Susan manages to veer off course enough to poke at Mars. “Milton, dear, maybe stick with clear drinks so we get our full deposit back on these white linens.”

Mars doesn’t say anything, but tilts his head at her and gives her a hint of an indulgent smile. I, on the other hand, react. Grabbing the glass of red wine out of someone’s grasp I whisper, “Very sorry, I’ll get you another.” I hand it to Mars and give Susan my best I dare you glare. Mars, for his part, takes a big, long gulp, never dropping eye contact with her.

Susan huffs and turns her attention to me. Apparently I’m on tonight’s menu, too.

“Didn’t Milton inform you that the dress code for guests is pastel?” She drags her eyes up and down my light gray dress. She straightens, shaking her head like I should be heartbroken not to be wearing mint green. “Well, at least you’ll blend with the background in the photos.”

Mars takes a step towards her. A muscle jumps in his jaw, and I’ve never seen him looking like he wanted to murder someone. Kinda hot.

“Ivy’s never blended into the background of anything. Ever,” he growls in a low voice. “Now, I suggest you keep anything else you want to say about my girlfriend to yourself, or you’re going to find yourself the center of a very loud, very public conversation at your son’s wedding. And we all know how everything has to be. Just. So.” He taps the red wine glass against her own wine glass with every word.

Susan looks shocked that her stepson dared speak to her in that tone. She squares her shoulders, gives him one last glare, and walks away.

Mars puts the glass down on the nearest high-top table and sticks out his tongue. “Ugh, I hate red wine.”

I shrug, trying to ignore the goosebumps that showed up at the same time as his growly voice. “I know, but it was a necessary sacrifice.” We shake off the encounter and make an effort to enjoy the rest of the cocktail hour, although I remain on high alert.

Mars introduces me to a few people, mostly from his dad’s side of the family. His cousin, Josh, shakes my hand and says, “Mars mentioned you last time we talked. You run a software business?”

I stare at Mars in surprise, my eyes wide, catching how his ears turn bright red. Turning back to Josh, I put on my business Ivy mask. “That’s right. I advise companies on the most optimal software to invest in, both internal and customer facing. I started the company last year.”

Mars squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back. Josh smiles at me. “From what Mars says, your startup has what it takes to go far. I’d be interested in talking to you more about it. My wife and I run a small chain of grocery stores, and we’re still using software the previous owners installed fifteen years ago.”

“I’d love to help with that.” I reach into my clutch and pull out a business card. “Call me and we can see what you need.”

We chat for a little longer, and when he leaves to rejoin his wife, I turn to Mars. “You told him about me?” I ask in a shocked whisper, dropping the business Ivy mask.

“Why are you surprised? You’re kinda hot shit, business lady.” I want to toss my drink and throw my arms around him, but I barely manage to keep it together. I’m going to need a moment to reset.

I’m here for the food and Mars, who has no idea how mouth-watering he looks in his suit. And then he goes and does the one thing no one has ever done for me. Keeping my hands off him tonight will be the hardest thing I’ve done all week. Speaking of hard...my core clenches suddenly with the memory of how solid, how hard he was under me this morning.

Turning my back on Mars to take in the decorations, I quickly fan myself with the wedding program in my hand. None of that, Ivy. What happened in the room stays in the room. I manage to calm the pulse between my legs, but I’ll need to find a way to ease this ache sooner rather than later.

I put my game face back on and turn to Mars, trying to keep my eyes off the way his suit pants hug his thighs. We’ve got a long evening ahead of us.

We haven’t even made it out of the cocktail hour and three people have already greeted him with some variation of “Oh look, it’s Mars the Destroyer. Keep him away from the cake table.”

Mars shoulders it with his typical calm, slim smile, not letting their barbs land—at least on the outside. Meanwhile, I want to take off my shoe and pelt them with it.

One second we’re sipping on a signature cocktail, the next Mars is almost bowled over by a ball of energy in a lavender dress. The cutest, most excited squeal comes out of the ball’s mouth. I mean, not a ball. A woman who comes up to Mars’ armpit but looks like she could take him in a fight.

“Leeza,” Mars laughs. “God, I’m glad to see you.” He gives her a squeeze and turns to me. “Ivy, this is my cousin Leeza. Leeza, this is my...Ivy.”

The most telling, adorable shade of pink touches Mars’ cheeks when he catches himself. Inside my chest, something knocks against my ribs with a hard thump. My Ivy. I will it away, or try to, but this little slip is tenacious.

I stick out my hand, a grin splitting my face. “Pleasure to...oof.” Leeza pulls me into the softest, fiercest hug I’ve ever had. The hug’s end is abrupt, and I’m learning quickly this is Leeza in a nutshell.

“It’s so good to meet you. Oh my god, you’re so pretty. Mars, why didn’t you tell me your girlfriend is so gorgeous? Wait, why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend? How are you enjoying yourself? You’re probably not because this place is filled with Aunt Susan’s family.” It all comes out in a rush, but she says that last part in a low voice, and I can’t help but laugh.

“You forgot to take an edible didn’t you?” Mars asks.

Leeza leans in and says, “Susan threatened my life if I showed up to this shindig any less than one hundred percent not high. And that woman scares the shit out of me.”

Someone announces that it’s time to head in for dinner and Leeza jumps. “Food,” she shouts, turns on her heel, and leaves.

“So, that’s Leeza,” Mars laughs.

“I think I’m in love.”

MARS

Ivy’s grip on my elbow as we walk into the reception is excessively tight. She’s cutting off blood flow to my fingers. I don’t know what she’s so nervous about. She doesn’t know these people and will probably never see them again.

We pick up our place cards, and I scan the names of the others at our table, happy to see more people from my dad’s side of the family. Maybe I can relax and enjoy myself for the rest of the day. Knowing Susan, the food will be amazing, even if it comes with a side of fussiness.

As we approach our table, one of Susan’s brothers-in-law steps in our path and claps me on the shoulder. “Glad you’re not sitting near the ice sculpture, Milt.” I haven’t seen this man in years, and this is the first thing he says to me. It’s depressing how unsurprised I am.

“Keith. It’s good to see you. It’s been too long.” It’s horrible to see him, and it will never be long enough. “I hope you’re well.” Debatable.

Ivy drops my arm and slides in front of me. She’s got that deadly smile on her face she gets when she’s about to slice someone to the bone. Holding out her hand to shake, she says. “Hi, I’m Ivy, Mars’ girlfriend.” She pauses for an uncomfortably long moment. “What’d you mean about the ice sculpture?” She tilts her head in a deceptively confused and innocent way. Shark.

I tuck the girlfriend thing away in a pocket so I can pull it out later—after I watch whatever is about to happen. It’s a shame they’re not serving popcorn at this party.

Keith blinks at her. “It was a joke.”

“Oh, I didn’t get it. Can you explain it to me?”

Keith fiddles with his paisley tie. “Well, you know...Milton is always breaking things.” Ivy stares at him. “Or tripping,” he trails off.

“Fascinating.” Any hint of innocence drops from her smile, and she straightens to her full height. She tilts her chin down at Keith, daring him to say more. She considers him for a moment, and I can see him start to sweat.

“We’ve all been a little clumsy a time or two, right Keith?” she says, her voice low as she takes a step closer to him. Her smile could cut a man in two. “It would be such a shame if someone here had an accident. Maybe after his third cocktail. Maybe during the cake cutting or the first dance. It would be a minor tragedy if someone’s third-favorite uncle fell flat on his face. What would Susan say?” She tsks. The faux concern in her voice sends a shiver down my spine and a bead of sweat down Keith’s forehead.

He’s a deer in the headlights, and I’m a smitten fool.

Keith stares down at his drink like it’s the source of his consternation. I try to cover my laugh with a cough, but I’m not fooling anybody.

I can see the mental gymnastics Keith is doing. He’s never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, and he looks pained. Stand up to the scary lady or cut his losses and move along?

Ivy’s smile hasn’t slipped once, but it grows wider when Keith walks away without another word. Probably the smartest thing he’s ever done in his life.

“I need to talk to a professional about why you being so scary is so fucking hot. Well done, but now he’s fucked off to talk to his wife, who’s the biggest gossip of the bunch.” I wrap my arm around her waist and guide us to our table. “Kinda love that you pulled out the girlfriend card again.”

“I did?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I guess it just slipped out.”

“Yeah, well that little slip means everybody will think we’re practically married by the end of the night.” I like the idea a little too much.

She runs her eyes over my face as her hands wrap around my tie like she’s straightening it. Then she shocks the shit out of me by kissing me on the cheek. “I guess we’ll have to lean into it. Think of it like an added layer of protection.”

“Like a condom?” Why the fuck did that come out of my mouth?

She laughs. “Yes, exactly. I’m the latex barrier between you and the STD that are your relatives.”

IVY

Mars belongs in a lab. Scientists need to study how this guy can be so laconic and easygoing when he’s constantly being insulted by this trash heap of a family. It’s like he’s got the thickest skin, and only the sharpest arrows make it through.

Right now, I’m gritting my teeth as the millionth relative warns him away from the cake and the ice sculpture. This time it’s the groom’s cousin, Judy.

She smacks Mars on the shoulder. “Oh my god, do you remember that time you broke my mom’s favorite serving platter?” At this point in the evening, I want to shove her into the precious cake. I’ve always had a short fuse, and it reached its end by the middle of dinner.

I squeeze Mars’ arm. “Was that the one you had to go to the dollar store to replace?” Judy gasps appropriately.

Mars smiles down at me. “No, that's the one that broke because Judy’s brother threw a stale dinner roll at me, and I held up the platter to block his shot.”

I turn back to Judy. “Wow, your brother sounds like a dick. My sympathies.” More spluttering. I’ve only had two cocktails but my filter is as thin as Judy’s eyebrows.

To Judy’s credit, she digs in. “And that time you tripped over your own feet at graduation?” Oh, poor Mars.

He rolls his eyes. “I’d just grown three inches in two months. I didn’t know where my own feet were.”

“I hate it when that happens. I tripped on my dress at prom, nearly took out an eye on my date’s boutonniere.” I laugh at the memory and turn to Judy.

“It happens sometimes when people aren’t paying attention.” I eye her long, yellow dress. “Like if you stepped on your own skirt and ripped it right off. It’d probably be the most exciting thing that ever happened to you, what with your sad hobby of trying to tear people down because your own life is small and disappointing.”

Judy’s eyes go wide as she turns to Mars. “Your girlfriend is super mean.”

Mars grins at me. “I know,” he says, like me being a jerk to his family is the best thing about me.

“Thank you. I work hard at it.” I smile down at her. I’m about ready to flip a table. Not the cake table though, obviously. I’m not a monster.

I turn to Mars, dismissing Judy. “I wonder what flavor the cake is.”

He gives me an indulgent smile that for some reason makes my chest a little tight and my fingers a little tingly. My blood sugar is probably low. When are they cutting this cake?

MARS

My jaw is tight from keeping a benign smile on my face. This wedding has been a mixed bag of hanging with people I miss, like Leeza and Josh, and dodging the pointed comments of Susan and her family. Normally they’d bounce right off me, but today has been…a lot. Without Ivy by my side, I don’t know if I could’ve managed even a tight smile.

Her prickly, don’t give a fuck barbs hit their targets so many times, I’d be surprised if I was ever invited to another family gathering. Mission accomplished. I don’t care enough about what these people think of me to be sad about it, but watching Ivy light up with righteous—and sometimes petty—indignation has made my night.

My fingers itch to finish that drawing of her as a shield-maiden, maybe add a sword. Her face should be on a canvas, not just the back of a wedding program.

Ivy’s talking with Leeza, and they’re both giggling about something. Warmth spreads through my limbs, seeing two of my favorite people get along. Someone gently slaps me on the back, and I turn around to see my dad.

“Having a good time, son?” he asks. His cheeks are red from the few glasses of wine he’s had.

Ivy’s laugh cuts through the music and background chatter, and I can’t look away. “I’m having a great time. Susan really did an amazing job.” Ever since my dad and Susan got together, I tried to keep him out of the middle of whatever animosity festered between my stepmother and I. Dad’s always been a little oblivious, and I didn’t want to find out the hard way whose side he landed on.

“I helped.” He laughs. “And Jen’s family too. But yeah, Susan did a lot to bring this all together.” His eyes seek her out across the room and his face goes even softer. When it comes to his wife, he sees what he wants to see, and I’m not going to be the one to enlighten him.

I take a sip of my soda, having abandoned the cocktails a while ago. As if I have no control when it comes to Ivy, my eyes find her again. Leeza says something and Ivy covers her mouth like she’s holding in a laugh.

Dad’s hand finds my shoulder. “She’s good for you.” My eyebrows wing up at his words. “You look at her like she’s your next meal. And she does the same.”

“Dad,” I groan. We don’t talk about this stuff. Ever. He laughs, enjoying my discomfort.

“My job here is done. I live to embarrass my children.” With that he turns around and heads for Susan, shimmying his shoulders like he’s begging for a dance.

When I turn back to Ivy, she’s staring at me. Leeza looks between the two of us and clasps her hands under her chin. Ivy tips her head to the dance floor, a question in her eyes.

Setting my soda on a nearby table, I head her way, catching my toe on a chair once but barely wincing. Can’t give these people any more ammunition. I hold my hand out to Ivy. “Let’s dance.”

CHAPTER 12

NEW WAYS TO SAY THANK YOU

IVY

My shoulders drop from around my ears, and I melt into Mars’ hold as he sways me around the dance floor. I love weddings, even when I want to toss some of the guests into the nearest lake. He hums along to the music, his hands spanning my back, and his nose tucked into my neck.

A slower song comes on, and the rest of the world drops away. It’s only me and Mars, his solid shoulder, and his strong arms caging me in. He holds me as if he’s always been holding me, like there was never a time when we weren’t Ivy and Mars, partners in crime.

The frequency of people approaching him with something backhanded to say has slowed down. Maybe they finally got bored. Or I scared them off.

“Was I too harsh?” I ask into his shoulder.

“When?” he asks into my hair.

“With your family. Was I too harsh?”

Mars laughs and shakes his head. “Nothing a little Bactine and gauze won’t fix.”

“They just...they just made me so angry. Don’t they know nobody messes with my Mars, no matter how backhanded the comment?”

He stumbles for a second but tightens his hold on me. “Your Mars is fine. Yeah, sometimes their needling stings, but ultimately most of these people don’t matter to me. The ones who I really love, who love me...they’ve never treated me like that. They don’t care that I’m accident-prone. They don’t turn me into an easy target.”

“Except Susan.” My voice is tight when I think about all the digs she got in last night and tonight. Some more subtle than others, but no less mean.

“Except Susan,” he confirms. “Our relationship has always been hard. But I’m finally letting her go. I’m old enough to not let her digs touch me. I love my dad, but I’ve decided to keep my distance from her, even if that means spending less time with him.” I hear the sadness in his voice, and it makes me angry all over again.

We take a few more spins around the dance floor, quietly deconstructing the day. Food was alright, if a little underwhelming. Music was great. People were a mixed bag. “Today was infinitely better with you here,” Mars murmurs when we’re pressed together under the fairy lights.

There’s no sign of this reception winding down, but I want to put a lid on the evening. I’ll take my cues from Mars though. If he wants to stay longer, I won’t protest. Leeza and I exchanged numbers earlier, and I’m already looking forward to the next time we meet up.

Coming off the dance floor—where he didn’t tread on my toes one single time, thank you very much—Susan steps in front of us. She’s got a tipsy sheen to her eyes, and she’s listing a little to the left. At least her hair is still perfectly, mother-of-the-groom neat.

“Milton,” she says carefully, in the way only someone trying really hard to sound sober does. “Iris,” she says to me.

“Ivy.” Mars corrects her, his hand bunching the fabric at the back of my dress.

“Oh dear, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, happens all the time.” It almost never happens, but I’m tired of this woman and this is not the hill I’m dying on today.

“Susan, it’s been a wonderful wedding. I know how much work you’ve put into it.” How this man manages to stay above it all when I want to throw a tantrum is beyond my understanding. It’s good that I carry enough pettiness for the both of us.

“Thank you.” She preens a little.

She leans in like she’s about to tell us a secret. “Not one single disaster,” she says in what she probably thinks is a whisper but is quite loud. She taps her forehead. “It’s because I have a noggin for planning. Like putting you at a table across the room from the ice sculpture and the cake.”

Mars’ arm tightens around me, and I feel him completely still beside me.

Susan’s oblivious to his reaction. “I mean, it would be like Jaylen’s eighth grade graduation all over again.”

Mars lets out a frustrated breath that ruffles my hair. “You’re going to have to let that one go, Susan. Also, who gives out frisbees as party favors at an indoor event?”

“Yes, well. Learned my lesson, didn’t I? ‘Keep Milton away from the breakables.’ That’s what I say every time he comes for a visit.” She has the ovaries to smile at me like I’m in on her little joke.

I straighten but stay in the circle of Mars’ arm. I have about five inches on this woman, and for a split second I think about picking her up and tossing her at her precious ice sculpture. Swans are overdone anyway.

“Wow, I’ve never met someone who could hold a petty grudge for so long.”

“Ivy, it’s fine,” Mars starts to say.

I whip around. “It’s not fine. Nothing she’s said to you all evening is fine. If they handed out ribbons for passive-aggression this woman’s wall would be covered in them.”

Susan pats her hair. “Thank you.”

“You know, it’s sad,” I say, turning on her. My eyes burn and I make an effort to keep my hands from fisting at my side.

Susan looks down at her red wine like she’s bored already. “What’s sad?”

“That you can’t see beyond your idea of how people should act. That you’re trapped in your little fiefdom of pettiness—and not the good kind of pettiness. The cruel kind. And you rule with all the power of a low-level manager at the mall.”

“Ivy.” Mars tries to pull me away, and I realize that I’m invading Susan’s personal space. I take a step back but don’t stop.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She sniffs.

“When you met Mars’ dad you were given a gift.” I wave my hands at Mars. “But instead of treating that little boy with the kindness he deserved, you decided to push him out of the herd, one tiny hurt at a time. It’d be sad if it wasn’t so insidious. Do you even realize what you missed out on?”

“I already had two perfect sons.”

It’s my turn to snort.

“I know I’ll never convince you otherwise, but you lost so much when you chose the path of spitefulness. Mars will always be too good for you because you threw away any chance to have a real relationship with him.” Look in the mirror, you hypocrite. I shake off the quiet voice in my head—I’ll deal with that asshole later.

“You’ve got to be joking.” Susan’s cheeks turn redder, and she rolls her eyes.

“No, Susan. I’m not joking. Do you even know your stepson? I mean, he’s been in your life for more than twenty years and you don’t seem to understand him at all. To you he’s only a series of mishaps.” People around us have gone quiet, so I lower my voice because I’m a goddamn lady and don’t want to ruin anyone’s big day.

I notice Mike standing a few feet away, looking stunned, his eyebrows up in his hairline and his mouth open. His eyes dart between his son, Susan, and me. Fuck, I really didn’t want to make a spectacle, but sometimes things need saying no matter the moment.

“Come on, Ivy.” Mars pulls on my arm. He shoots his dad a nervous look and Mike’s eyebrows knit together.

“I’m almost done, babe.” I turn and give Mars a quick smile. I turn back to Susan, and in a quiet, hard voice I start ticking things off on my fingers.

“He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met, probably no thanks to your influence. He’s smart, he’s funny, he doesn’t let things like being a little clumsy stand in his way of enjoying hobbies that could kill him. On cloudy days he’s everybody’s sunshine.” I swallow past a lump in my throat and take a deep breath. “He’s a massively talented artist. Have you ever seen any of the skateboards he’s designed?”

“Skateboards?” Susan blinks at me.

“She doesn’t know what you do?” I shoot Mars a look, and he shrugs.

“Didn’t seem worth it to mention it to her,” he says calmly, but I can see the hint of pain in his face. It makes me want to commit crimes.

I turn back to her and take a deep breath, smoothing my hands down my dress, fighting for calm. “Mars is right. You’re not worth it.” I hope I never lay eyes on this woman again. I have more to say but something stops me.

I was so focused on tearing into Susan that I didn’t notice Mars slipping his hand in mine. Glancing down at where he holds me, my anger leaves me in a whoosh of breath. She’s not worth it. He squeezes my hand, turning me away from the target of my frustration.

And I gladly follow.

MARS

I can’t seem to catch my breath as I watch Ivy lay into my stepmother. This tightness started as soon as she began her Mars Is The Best litany, and now all I want to do is touch her. It feels like I can’t continue existing without touching her. So I do. I grasp her hand, and she gives mine a squeeze, not missing a beat in her diatribe.

She’s incandescent, and I’m standing here basking in her light. I always thought I could fight my own battles, but Ivy is having none of it. How she’s managing to give Susan a dressing-down while keeping a smile on her face is the most arousing thing I’ve ever seen.

But I can’t take it anymore. I have to touch her, to hold her. Right fucking now.

I tug on her hand until she turns around and faces me. Susan huffs, but I no longer care what Susan does or says. “And one more thing,” Ivy trails off. Her eyes widen as she takes in my expression. I can feel my ears turning bright red, and my eyes won’t leave hers.

She sees it. She sees that I need her. That this is going to be more than a friendly dry hump. “We gotta go,” I say and she dips her chin in agreement, her body leaning into mine.

Leeza steps in front of us and holds her hand up in front of Ivy. “Tag me in, queen.” Ivy lets out a watery laugh and smacks Leeza’s hand in a high five. Leeza spins around and squares off with my stepmother. “Alright, Aunt Susan, you and I are going to have a little talk.”

Susan shakes her head at my cousin and starts to walk away.

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way,” Leeza says. “I know about that time you dented Uncle Mike’s car and blamed it on Mars.” The chatter around the two of them quiets and Susan’s face pales as she spots my dad standing a few feet away. Good.

I want to stick around to hear the rest of this. But I want Ivy more.

We leave Susan sputtering and Leeza ticking her grievances off on her fingers. I’m sure she’ll text me later with a full recap.

I practically drag Ivy from the reception.

Out the door and into the cool night air, I suck in a breath. But it does nothing to slow the fierce, hard rhythm of my pulse. I don’t make it more than a few steps before I push Ivy up against the wall and frame her face with my hands. “I’m going to kiss you now,” I say, my lips only a breath from hers.

“Okay. Yeah.” Her eyes are wide as she grasps my wrists. Whatever else she’s going to say is cut off when I take her mouth with mine. She moans long and deep when our lips meet.

There’s no audience, nobody we’re trying to convince. It’s just me and Ivy, and this fucking kiss. My hands find her hair and hers grip my lapels. She tastes like champagne and cake and Ivy, and I’m losing my mind with how perfect her lips feel against mine. How perfect she is.

I pull back to take her in. Her wet lips are parted, her eyes glazed. I smile to myself because I love how I put that look on her face.

“What was that for?” she sighs, sagging a little against the wall.

“Because I’ve wanted to”— her eyebrows wing up—“for months. But also because you’re the most kick-ass wedding date I could ask for. The way you handled Susan...it made me want to do this.” I kiss her again. Deeper, harder than before. She meets me with the same need, the same intensity. She nips my lower lip before driving her fingers through my hair and bringing us even closer.

My chest inflates at the sight of her swollen lips and dazed look. Fuck, she’s perfect.

“Thank you,” I whisper before trailing my lips along her jawline. Sucking in a breath of her citrus scent, I know I have to tell her. Not that I love her, even though I do. She’d run all the way back to Wavecrest if I let that one slip.

I have to tell her, and show her, what her standing up to my family means to me.

“But I didn’t do anything,” she starts to protest. I try to cut her off with a quick, hard kiss, but she keeps going, her eyebrows knit together. “I’m pretty sure I just cratered your relationship with your stepmother.” She searches my face, but she won’t find any regret there.

I take a moment to try and put it into words but my mind is a jumble. “Susan will be fine, and even if she’s not I don’t think I care. What you did in there,” I trail off, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. “Nobody’s ever done that for me. Stood up for me, stepped into the line of fire.”

Ivy’s face softens but the furrows still fill the space between her brows. I want to smooth them out—I want to spend hours simply touching her warm skin, learning every inch.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to fight that battle on your own. And fuck the people who could’ve stepped up but didn’t. You’ll never have to again if I have anything to do with it.” I don’t think she knows what she’s saying. Ivy can’t give me forever, but she’s already given me so much tonight.

“I don’t know when I stopped responding to their jabs and decided to act like none of it affects me. But this weekend reminded me that it still stings.”

I shake my head and let a slow smile spread across my face.

“And then you stood by my side and unleashed Ivy, Warrior Princess.” I squeeze her hips, mentally adding to the sketch I already started of her.

“All I did was get cranky at them.” She gives me a hint of a shrug and stares at my chin. “If they’re going to be immature dicks they should expect to be treated in kind.”

I press closer to her, willing her to look at me again. “It meant a lot to me—you mean a lot to me. And it was hot as hell.” Her breath catches when I trace my fingers along her jaw, down her throat. Enough talking. Her pouty lips are begging for another kiss.

This one, this is another favorite kiss. I pour my want into it, my gratitude that she’s in my life, my consuming need for her. She opens for me immediately, and I groan long and deep.

I want more of this, more of her needy sounds. But not here, only a few feet from the reception. I step back and grab her hand.

The hotel is a ten-minute walk from the event space along winding paths through groves of trees. I’m not sure I can wait until I have her inside our room.

I pull her along one of the tree-lined paths, guided by fairy lights strung high up in the branches. A fork in the walkway leads to a grass-covered clearing, and I steer us toward it. Nobody’s around, the sun set hours ago, and all we can hear are crickets and our own breathing. At the far end of the clearing it looks like something is under construction. A large fire pit or some kind of outdoor gathering space. There are tarps and loose stones, but there’s also a large patch of freshly laid sod that looks soft. Perfect.

Pulling us under the protective branches of a tree, I press her against the trunk and take her mouth again. We consume each other, my lips opening her to me, our tongues meeting in a hot tangle. This. This is what I need.

Her leg hooks around my thigh, our bodies aligning perfectly.

Rock hard and aching, my cock rubs against my zipper. She moans when I press my length against her, just above her mound. I press harder and am rewarded with her rocking her hips back and forth.

I pull back for a split second, and she growls at me. I don’t waste any time trailing my mouth to that spot behind her ear, her collarbone, and the pulse in her neck.

I clutch the skirt of her flowing dress in my hands as I sink to my knees at her feet. I should wait until we’re back in the room, but I can’t. Not with her face pink with anticipation, her scent in my nose.

“Mars,” she chokes out. “Your suit’s going to get dirty.” I can already feel the cold, damp earth through my pants. I don’t give a fuck. I look up, lingering for a moment on her bottom lip caught between her teeth and her chest rising and falling with her rapid breathing.

“Ivy, I’m about to stick my tongue up your hungry little cunt and make you scream my name. Do you really care about my suit?”

Her mouth falls open, and her eyes flare with shock and heat.

“Holy shit, Mars, who knew you had such a filthy mouth?”

“You complaining?”

“Uh, nope.” She shakes her head.

“Great. Hold this.” I drag her skirt up her legs and wait until she’s holding it before I lean forward to take her in.

In front of me is a dream, a fantasy. Ivy’s pale thighs rubbing together with a small scrap of pink lace between them—a damp spot growing as I watch. Running a quick finger along her covered seam has Ivy sucking in a breath. I shake my head at my unbelievable fortune that this woman is wet and waiting for me.

I lean forward to smell her, to feel her heat, and she lets out a small moan. “Mars, please.”

“Whatever you want, Ives.” I nuzzle the bend of her thigh where it meets her pelvis. Dragging the piece of lace aside I finally get to see the most perfect pussy I’ve ever seen. Art. Pink, dripping, waiting for me. I brush my hand through her curls and use my thumbs to open her up to me. She lets out a choked sound, and her head thunks against the tree.

“Please,” she begs over and over, even before I get my mouth on her.

“Oh, Ives. The things my mouth wants to do to you.”

IVY

I don’t know what happened, but a few minutes ago I was chewing out Mars’ stepmother, and now I’m leaning against a tree with his mouth on my pussy.

The words, “The things my mouth wants to do to you,” ring through my head, and I can’t catch my breath. His mouth finally—finally—meets my skin, and I want to celebrate.

The first swipe of his tongue makes me almost drop my skirt over his head. I tighten my hand on the fabric, but my other goes to his hair, pulling him closer. I need closer.

Mars’ thumbs hold me apart as he explores me, feasts on me, drives me crazy. “Yes, like that,” I whisper when he nuzzles my clit with his nose then takes it into his mouth. He tries to push my legs wider apart but my underwear is in the way. With a grunt, he yanks on it twice before it tears free of my body.

With one hand holding me firmly against the tree he brings one leg up and over his shoulder, opening me wider to him. I feel the cool night air right before his mouth is back on me.

I’m so wet for him, so close to coming, that I start rocking my hips against his face. He hums as he concentrates on my center, one hand wrapped around my thigh on his shoulder and one exploring my entrance. His tongue and lips circle my clit, sucking and flicking until I start to shake. When he presses the flat of his tongue exactly where it needs to be, every nerve-ending in my body lights up.

When he drives two fingers into me and finds that spot I fall apart. I come hard, shattering on a scream. “Mars,” I shout into the dark, not caring if there’s anyone around to hear. If it wasn’t for this tree and his hands holding me up, I’d crumple to the ground.

He keeps pumping his fingers into me, his tongue gently pulling back from my clit, but my hand is still in his hair pressing him to me harder. I’m not ready to be done. “No, not yet,” I beg.

“So beautiful. You’re gorgeous when you come,” he says against my thigh where he nuzzles and nips. My hand finally loosens from his hair, and as soon as I let him go, he surges to his feet and takes my mouth in a hard kiss. I could almost come a second time like this.

He rocks into me, pressing his hard length against my core as we try to devour each other. I reach down to rub the palm of my hand against the bulge straining against his zipper. He jolts, biting my lip.

“Fuck, Ivy,” he chokes out.

“I need more of you. Just...more.” I squeeze him, and his head falls against my shoulder, his body tense against mine.

“I don’t know if I can make it back to the hotel room.” He pulls me away from the tree, and my skirt falls back around my legs.

I reach for Mars’ shoulders and push his jacket off him, tossing it on the soft grass like a picnic blanket. I guide him down as I lower myself to the ground. “Here’s good. Don’t need a bed, just need you.”

“You’re sure?”

“Grab that condom I know you carry in your wallet, and I’ll show you how sure I am.” I kick off my shoes and take a second to enjoy the feel of grass on my bare feet.

“Three,” he says with a smirk.

“Three what?”

“I keep three condoms in my wallet.” He pulls it out of his pocket, finds a packet and tosses the wallet to the side. I’m not sure he cares if he finds it again. His eyes eat me up from my toes to my head, lingering on where I’ve pulled my skirt back up and spread my legs for him.

He swallows hard as he kneels in front of me. “Look how wet you are for me. Look at the mess I made of you.” He runs his thumb down my center making me shiver.

My legs tremble, and I lay back on his jacket. “Come here,” I whisper. I reach for him, but he loosens his tie first. When he undoes his belt and unzips his pants, my mouth drops open. But there’s no time to admire him before he slips on the condom and moves over me.

His cock lies heavy between us, and he kisses me long and deep, seemingly not in a hurry. But I am.

“I’m so empty right now. I need you to...”

“What do you need, Ivy? Do you need my cock to fill you up? Do you need me to treat this tasty cunt right? Because I will.” He moves his hips back and forth, teasing me. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I want you...I need you to fuck me good and hard. Please.” I reach down and wrap my hand around him, squeezing him until he releases a grunt. He grasps my hand and helps me guide him to my entrance.

With one swift kiss and a thrust of his hips, he’s buried deep in me. My back arches off the ground at the feel of him spreading me open. A long, “Yes” comes out of me at the same time he groans, “Fuck.”

He leans on one elbow and skates his hand down my cheek and runs a hand through my hair. “Okay?” he asks, his eyes studying my face. His jaw is clenched tight with whatever he’s holding back.

“Would be better if you moved. I need you to move.” I’m drowning in need, barely able to breathe with the feel of him filling me up, but I need motion. I need him to use me.

So he does. He draws back and snaps back into me. “Perfect cunt. Can you feel it, how your body takes mine? Fuck, Ivy, I want to ruin this pussy.”

“Do it. I want you to ruin me.” The contours of him are delicious as he moves in and out of me, as I meet him thrust for thrust. The sound of crickets and the wet slap of our bodies meeting over and over make their way into my veins. My blood buzzes and hums with every drag of his thick head against my g-spot, with every time his hand reaches for my dress-covered breast.

He’s moving fast now, driving me closer and closer to the edge when he reaches up and wrenches my dress down enough to free one breast. His mouth comes down on my nipple, and I tighten my legs around him, begging him with my body to push me over the edge.

The feel of his tongue and teeth on my nipple collides with the flames licking up my body from where he pushes into me over and over. It’s too much, it’s perfect. He’s perfect, the way he already knows what my body needs, what I need.

“Not going to be the last time. Never going to get enough. My cock needs your pussy, Ives. The things I’m going to do to you when we get back to the room. When we get back home.” His words light up my body. My hands find their way to the taught muscles of his ass, and I dig my nails in, trying to get him even closer.

His hand tunnels into my hair and tilts my head back so his lips and teeth find the thin skin of my neck. His other hand skates down my body, finding where we meet over and over. Mars uses two fingers to rub tight, hard circles against my clit, sending me spiraling into an orgasm that rips me apart. Every muscle in my body clamps down and a tattered scream rips from my throat.

“That’s right. Let me hear you. Scream for me,” Mars says through clenched teeth. My orgasm races through me, and I sob in time with the pulsing of my inner muscles. “Fuck. Yes, like that. Just like that.”

He’s not far behind, following me into the abyss with two more snaps of his hips and my name spilling from his lips over and over. His body shivers over my own and I feel it all. I feel everything. Every nerve ending in my body is exposed to the world as we rock into each other after the most monstrous orgasm of my life.

He said he’d ruin me, and Mars is a man of his word.

MARS

I slowly slump onto the ground next to Ivy, hating the loss of her body under mine. I try to catch my breath, but I’m distracted by the sight of her laying there after what we did. Fucking hell, that’s the best thing I’ve ever experienced.

She rests there, her face pointed at the stars, a loose smile on her face, one breast out of her now wrinkled dress, the skirt pulled up around her hips, and her release glistening on her thighs in the moonlight. I want to draw her like this.

Still looking up at the sky, she reaches over and clasps my wrist. “Again,” she says.

“Yes,” I say.

THERE ARE voices in the distance now—the reception is probably winding down. I don’t want us getting caught out here, so I roll up onto my knees to start putting us back together. Gently I pull Ivy’s dress back up over her breasts, making a silent promise to her nipple that I’ll be seeing it again soon. The torn scraps of her underwear lie next to her elbow, so I shove them in my pocket with a smile.

We manage to quietly straighten our clothes and smooth our hair before leaving the clearing. But Ivy doesn’t put her shoes back on. I take her hand but catch her grimacing as we make our way up the path.

“Shoes?” I ask.

She shakes her head and curses under her breath as she steps on something. “My feet are done with those little fuckers.”

I make a split-second decision that benefits us both. I scoop her up in a bridal carry and make my way back to the hotel. She gets to save her poor feet, and I get more time with her body pressed to mine.

With her arms wrapped around my neck and her face tucked into my shoulder, I smile as I get us back to the room. As if the universe decides today is going to be the best day ever, I don’t drop her or knock her head or feet into anything on the way.

It’s close though, because she takes my earlobe between her teeth and gives it a nip. “Mars, did you know you fuck like you surf?” she whispers. My arms tighten around her, and my cock hurts with how much I want to be back inside her. She nips me again. “The way you move…all fluid and rhythmic and smooth.” My chest vibrates with pleasure, and it takes all of my strength not to press her against the nearest wall and take her again.

Reaching our door, I slowly set her on her feet, my dick twitching as her body slowly slides down mine. She leans into me, speaking into my neck as I fish the key out of my pocket. “Remember when I said, ‘Again?’” I nod.

“And you said, ‘Yes.’” I nod again.

“Now, please.”

“Yep. Gotcha.” I clear my throat. Her arms wrap around my neck again, and we tumble into the room. The glow from the one lamp we left on bathes her in warm light. I could paint her like this, with a few blades of grass stuck in her hair and her lips swollen from our kisses.

I back her toward the bed, and she sits down. “Don’t. Move.” She giggles as I rip my tie over my head and kick off my shoes. She tosses my suit jacket onto a chair, and I step into the bathroom to get the strip of condoms from my Dopp kit. The original three might not be enough tonight.

I turn back to the room. In the few seconds I took in the bathroom, she’s removed every last scrap of clothing. And there she is, standing at the foot of the bed completely naked. My chest squeezes, and I lose the ability to breathe.

With her hands on her hips and her shoulders thrown back like she’s a warrior she’s...everything. She’s a goddess in a tall, willowy body. With her strawberry blonde hair still a mess and the skin on her thighs red from my stubble, she’s stunning beyond anything I could’ve imagined.

“Ivy, fuck, look at you.” My cock strains against my pants when my eyes drop to her breasts. “Those. Those are next on the menu.” I nudge my chin at her chest.

“What, these little ol’ things?” She gives me a little shimmy, and I laugh and then groan at how her small, perfect tits bounce.

“What are you waiting for?” She cocks her hip, and it snaps my restraint. Not that I had a lot of that left in the tank.

I rip my shirt off, forgetting about the buttons. My pants and socks are next. In the blink of an eye, I have her pinned to the bed, caging her with my body as I nip and kiss and lick my way across her skin.

She sighs into my touch, her hands exploring and squeezing and scratching wherever she can reach. “All this from surfing,” she murmurs to herself.

“All this for you,” I say against her lips. She smiles and tunnels her fingers through my hair, guiding me to where she wants me. But Ivy’s got another thing coming if she thinks she’s steering this ship.

I let her guide my head down to her tits where I spend time meeting and greeting them. Her breathing quickens as I suck a nipple into my mouth and flick it with my tongue. She arches off the bed when I move to the other one. So responsive.

Ivy lets out a whimper when I pull back and sit up. She pouts for a second before I squeeze her hips and flip her over onto her stomach. Her surprised laugh makes my cock even harder. It’s already leaking precum, aching to get back inside her tight heat. I kiss down her spine, holding her to the bed as she squirms.

I give her a little swat on the ass. “Stay still while I do this.” She moans long and deep so I do it again. “You like that?”

“Yes,” Ivy hisses out in a long breath. She wiggles her ass, begging for another. I give her what she wants. Stinging, quick smacks to her ass until her skin is pink with my handprints. I’m beyond turned on as I watch honeyed arousal gather between her legs. My legs straddle hers, keeping her thighs pressed together.

Ripping open a condom and rolling it on, I swipe my fingers along her slit and lick her off my fingers. She tastes like mine.

With her legs held together, I squeeze into her tight, wet heat, slowly finding my way until I’m buried to the hilt.

“The way you grip me...” I trail off as I begin slowly gliding in and out of her, watching my cock disappear between her thighs.

This time it’s slower, sweeter, but filthier. I put my weight on top of her as I move my hips. My lips find the back of her neck, and I nip her. Everything I do, every thrust and kiss and squeeze earns me a moan or a mewl. Her sweet sounds drive me on.

“Touch yourself, baby. Make yourself come.”

Her hand finds her clit, and I watch her arm move as she gets herself there. And then she’s screaming and quivering, her cunt squeezing me until I can’t hold back anymore.

I thrust one last time and let myself go. I spill into the condom with a ragged shout. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I collapse onto the bed next to her and draw her into my arms for a slow, tired kiss before I get up to deal with the condom. When I come back to bed, she’s under the covers, and her eyes are half closed.

I pull her against me, spooning her with all I have. The best spoon, I think tiredly.

“Ives, I need to change my opinion of the food tonight.”

“I’m listening,” she says into my bicep where her head rests.

“I had the finest meal of my life.” I slide my hand down her hip, to her stomach, then gently cup her mound. She giggles and then hums when I give her a soft squeeze. We fall asleep with my hand resting in its new favorite spot.

IVY

Once again, I’m curled around Mars, using his body as a pillow. He’s got one arm flung over his head, and the other holding me tight to his chest. We used every condom he brought with him last night, and the sun’s not even up. His stubble probably made a permanent impression on my thighs, but I’m not complaining.

Warmth and an unfamiliar giddiness fill my chest, but my brain hasn’t caught up. My brain, the stone-cold asshole that she is, is melting down. Because what we did last night—over and over—is not what friends do.

Mars stirs and brings me tighter against him. “I can feel you freaking out, Ives,” he mumbles, the gravel in his voice shooting directly to my core. “Knock it off.” His eyes are still closed like he’s trying to keep the morning from coming.

Panic rises in my throat, buzzes in my ears. He’s too good, too solid. There’s no way he’d want this, want me. I don’t want this. You sure wanted it last night, Ivy. I swallow past the tension, trying to keep my body loose.

“What happens in the room stays in the room, right?” The words come out tight and higher than normal. I hate them as soon as they leave my mouth. Mars’ arm stiffens around me, and he finally opens his eyes to look at me.

His gaze is assessing—not cold, but not warm either. “Is that what you want? Keep it in the foothills, and back to normal when we get home?”

No, I don’t want that at all. I want you, you sweet, amazing man.

“Maybe not one hundred percent normal. Normalish?”

He gives me a noncommittal hum. I hate it when I don’t know what Mars is thinking.

“You know how I feel about relationships.” My protest sounds weak as soon as it leaves my mouth.

He hums again.

If we start something, I won’t survive the end of it. Not like I did with all my previous exes. The end of me and Mars will slice me open.

“I think it’s for the best, don’t you?” I’m a coward, but at least I’ll keep my heart intact.

He turns on his side to look at me, taking the arm that was around me with him. I want it back. “It sounds like you don’t exactly know what you want, Ives. If you need to forget this happened, fine. But if you want more, all you have to do is say the word.” He traces a lock of my hair where it falls across my face, and I close my eyes against the sensations that fill me up, that press against the back of my eyes.

That’s the problem. I’m never going to forget about this as long as I live.

CHAPTER 13

THOSE WEREN'T COYOTES YOU HEARD

MARS

We’re quiet as we pack up, awkwardness filling the room while we circle each other. I focus on folding my clothes, resisting the urge to run my fingers along the silky fabric of Ivy’s dress where it lays across the bed.

Ivy hums to herself, off key and high pitched like she’s forcing it through protesting vocal chords. I don’t know what to do to dispel the tension, but maybe that’s not my job. Since Ivy knows best, she can figure out how we move forward.

I blow out a long breath. That’s the hurt talking—I know it is. But the pain needs some free rein, and I don’t have the will or energy to bury it.

I zip up my bag as Ivy grabs her purse. “Ready?” I ask, not meeting her eyes.

“Ready,” she says too brightly. I have to give her credit for how hard she’s trying. I reward her with a smile that feels too tight. Her shoulders dip but she keeps the forced smile on her face.

After checking out, we’re heading out the front doors when an elderly couple I recognize from the wedding but who I don’t know come through the lobby. I catch a snippet of their conversation.

“I swear, Doris, those weren’t coyotes we heard last night. That was two people having S-E-X,” the man whispers loudly to the woman.

Doris plants her hands on her hips. “Then why did you hurry me back to the room if we weren’t in any danger?”

The man shrugs. “Because, knowing you, you would’ve interrupted them and given them pointers.” He bounces his eyebrows at her. She laughs and pats him on the cheek.

My eyes go wide as I quickly guide Ivy out of the lobby. Her face is a shade of red I’ve never seen before.

When we reach the car, I drop the bags and bury my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking with laughter. Ivy’s chanting, “Oh my god. Oh my god,” like she did last night, but this time sounding panicked.

She smacks my shoulder. “It’s not funny. They heard us.”

I raise my head, but I can’t stop laughing. She smacks my shoulder again, stomping her foot like a toddler, which makes me laugh harder. Ivy looks like she’s about to murder me.

All the tension, or most of it, leaves my body, and I pull her into a hug, stopping her from smacking me again. She wiggles for a bit but then melts into my arms. “Oh, Ives, that’s the best thing that’s happened today.” Besides waking up next to you.

THE CAR RIDE back to Wavecrest goes better than I expected. Ivy keeps up her campaign to fight through any awkwardness, not giving me a moment to wallow in what feels like her rejection. The Coyote Conspiracy, as we started calling it, gave us an opening to talk about what happened between us, painting it in humor. Haha, isn’t it hilarious that we fucked, and I’ll never be the same?

It’s a brittle truce, and I can feel that our friendship is at a tipping point. I’m afraid if I bring up what future us looks like, she’ll shut me down. I can’t lose her, but I also refuse to forget what happened.

For a moment, I let myself enjoy the memories. Not only when I was inside her, or when I had her taste on my tongue—those images are seared into my brain probably for the rest of my life. But how she looked first thing in the morning, her hair a mess around her face, pillow lines across her cheeks, and her skin warm with sleep. How she’d put on socks for bed, remove them, then put them back on all before the lights went out. How she looked like a dream in her sleep shorts and shirt. How she looked like mine. Felt like mine, even if it was only for a weekend.

Ivy reaches over and pokes my cheek with her red-tipped finger.

“What are you thinking about over there, with your little secret smile?”

My first instinct is to lie and deflect, to keep our delicate peace. But, on the other hand, fuck it.

“That I haven’t had a good dry hump since freshman year in college. So, thanks for that.” There’s a second of silence from her side of the car, then she drops her head into her hands and laughs. I let out a quick, relieved breath.

“It’s definitely moved up in my ranking of preferred sex acts. That was way hotter than I thought it could be,” Ivy says, idly twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

Okay, I guess we’re doing this.

“Do you have these rankings memorized, or are they in a spreadsheet somewhere?” I keep my eyes on the road but I’m dying to look at her, to see if she’s blushing as hard as I imagine.

“Why not both?” She waves her hand around like everyone has a running list of their favorite positions.

“What’s number one?”

There’s a moment of silence where I don’t know if she’s contemplating answering my question or jumping out of the car. The silence has weight, density. It presses against me, keeping me from reaching for her.

“You really want to know?” It sounds like she’s asking, do you really want to jump off this high cliff?

“Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” Another stretch of silence and I flex my knuckles over the steering wheel.

“I love getting bent over a table and taken from behind. Hard,” she says without a hint of shyness. She smiles at me like she didn’t paint the filthiest pictures in my brain. My cock jumps. Pain. I’m in pain. I will make that happen…soon.

“What else?” My brain says turn back now, but my dick says keep going.

“Are you asking as my friend or...something else?”

“Back at the hotel you sounded like you wanted to keep it just friends. No more of this.” I wave at my crotch like an idiot.

“Yeah, but that was then, and this is now,” she says in a steady, sly voice. Eyes on the road, buddy.

“Then was an hour ago, Ives. So tell me, what do you really want? Because I’m good with staying friends if that’s what you need. But I’m really good with adding some benefits to the friendship. Especially if it means you riding my face on the regular. Guess which option I prefer.”

“Okay, wow. That...that is an option.”

“Take your time to think about it, I don’t want you to rush.”

“I’m in,” she says quickly.

“You’re...”

“In, yes. I’m in.”

“And by ‘in’ you mean...” I need her to spell it out for me because I want to make sure we’re on the same page.

“Listen, Mr. Steady, what we did back in the magic hotel room—and on the magic lawn—was hot. And it had been a while since—”

“You’ve had this much hotness.” I wave at my crotch again because, apparently, it’s my new move. “Don’t forget about the magic tree, too.”

Ivy smacks me in the shoulder with the back of her hand, laughing. Her laugh is one of my favorite things about her. She throws her head back and lets loose with everything she has. It’s loud and joyful, like it comes from the deepest parts of her.

“We’re really doing this?” I ask. “Because I don’t want you having another freak out every time we’re together. I’m not sure my ego can take it.” The closer we get to Wavecrest, the more reality is setting in. “Should we have ground rules?”

“What, like no butt stuff? Because I’ll be a little sad if that’s off the table.”

“Holy shit, Ivy. I’m driving.” Another laugh and I’m so painfully hard I might have to pull off the highway.

“Fine. What kind of ground rules?”

“If we do this, we only do it with each other for however long this lasts.”

“Agreed,” she says quickly.

“If we’re doing this, we’re all in. No more freak outs. No more should we or shouldn’t we. If you want to stop for any reason, then we stop.”

“Agreed. No more freak outs. Also, I don’t freak out.” I snort at her declaration.

“Right. Last point, unless you have something else to add. Condoms always. I went through a pregnancy scare in college, and I really don’t want a repeat.”

“Agreed,” she says again, softly this time. “I kinda like that you’re approaching this like one of your work projects. All capable and shit.”

“Fucking is serious business, Ivy. I want to make sure we have all our ducks in a row.”

“Quack fucking quack.”

IVY

We get back to Wavecrest a few hours later, and Mars pulls up to my building. I rent a tiny apartment for the moment, but as soon as I see more profit from my business, I’m buying one of those sweet little bungalows closer to the beach. Maybe with enough room for a dog.

Mars gets out and pops the trunk for me, and I reach in to get my bag. The last hour in the car was filled with delicious tension, but some of the awkwardness has returned now that we’re back in town.

I reach out my hand like I want to shake his. Okay, a lot of awkwardness. He looks down with a bemused smirk.

“What’s this?”

“A gesture of friendship and gratitude for driving the whole way.”

He leans in and gives me a peck on the cheek. “I guess we should figure out the PDA situation.”

“I like your hugs.” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it.

He chuckles and wraps me in a tight hug that’s more than friendly. His lips press into the soft spot below my ear. “Thanks for being my plus-one. Thanks for going above and beyond. Thanks for riding me like a rocking horse.”

I laugh, still wrapped in his arms. His salt air smell surrounds me, and my body rapidly heats. Everything that happened between us this weekend has unlocked my frozen-in-amber libido, and I find myself wanting to jump Mars right here in the street.

I press my lips to his cheek, wanting a little hint of his taste, to feel a bit of what we had last night. His arms tighten around me. It spurs me on, and I move my lips to the corner of his mouth.

The wind picks up, and I shiver but keep my lips where they are. Where they want to be. Mars pulls back enough to see my face but doesn’t let me go. His deep brown eyes roam over my face, settling on my lips.

I’m barely aware that we’re standing in the street, behind his car, with people walking by and the wind whipping around us. Nothing really registers except for me in his arms, and the feel of his breath brushing across my cheek.

It’s not clear who moves first but his lips are on mine. Or mine are on his. Either way, our kiss rockets past tentative right to heated and explosive. I moan as his teeth catch my bottom lip, and his tongue meets mine in a dance that makes my knees weak. Mars can fucking kiss.

My hands fist the back of his jacket. He tastes like the coffee we stopped for on the way home, and I want to go back for another cup. Maybe go back to the hotel room to continue our exploration of each other.

He groans into my mouth when I wrap my leg around his thigh. The way I want to strip him naked right here in the street feels insane. But that’s what his mouth does to me.

A horn sounds, and we jump apart.

Mars’ hands are on my upper arms keeping me from stumbling. I’ve lost some of the use of my legs and can’t take my eyes off his mouth. I feel like a starving woman, and his kiss is the best meal.

He gives me a quick peck on the cheek and lets me go. He backs away, only stumbling a little over a rock in the road.

“You want to come up?” I’m not ready for this weekend to end, and I’m a little too eager to jumpstart this friends-with-bennies thing we agreed on.

Mars smiles at me but shakes his head. A little pit of disappointment lodges in my belly. “I want to, but I need to get ready for the work week. Do some laundry. Buy some condoms,” he says, his eyes dancing with heat and mischief. “But we’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I agree. Picking up my bag, I give him one last kiss on the cheek before turning around and heading inside.

Anticipation lights me up. We didn’t talk about who we could tell, but I kind of want to shout it from the rooftops. I slept with Mars fucking Brooks and I’m going to do it again.

CHAPTER 14

PENCIL ME IN FOR MORE MEETINGS ON THIS TOPIC

MARS

“Iknow she doesn’t want a relationship, and I’m trying not to look too far in the future. But when two people have that much chemistry, that much connection, it’s hard not to get my hopes up.”

I get no response.

“You know what, we’ll take this day by day. If she wants more, she knows where to find me.”

Still nothing.

“No, I know I’m setting myself up for heartbreak, but she’s worth it.”

The otter blinks back at me, rubbing kelp on its belly like I’m interrupting its morning routine. My mind is so distracted by thoughts of Ivy that I’ve managed to smack myself in the nose twice with my board. It’s probably time to call it quits today.

My otter buddy hasn’t been much help, so the only thing to do is get ready for work. If it wasn’t so cold inside my wetsuit, I’d probably be ragingly hard with the thoughts that keep stumbling through my brain.

If there’s any mercy in this universe, hopefully I can keep my body from reacting to Ivy while we’re at the office. But I don’t hold out much hope.

I’M in the middle of writing up some marketing copy for the next round of new skateboards when movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. Ivy takes off her headphones and rubs her eyes like she’s already done with this day, even if it’s only ten in the morning.

I could stare at her all day. I sometimes sketch the way her hair falls across her forehead. My usual drawing style is cartoonish, but I find myself trying my hand at realism whenever she’s my subject. Those are the drawings I keep tucked away at home. My doodles of otters and mugs and other random things are out in the world, left in random places around town. But my drawings of Ivy are for me.

Her shoulders are bunched up around her ears, and the need to do something about it sweeps through me. Good thing I have a foolproof way of getting her to unwind. I remember how her body unlocked when my mouth was on her, when my fingers were inside her. How her limbs loosened and she sighed with pleasure. I can do that for her again.

The question is where. I glance to the stairs leading to the second floor where there’s a handful of conference rooms and the recording booth Meredith uses for producing Base members’ audio projects.

Setting aside my own work and rounding the desk, I tap Ivy on the shoulder. She startles. Her eyes are warm on me, but I can see the tension in her face.

“Hey, didn’t you want to talk to me about that list you were working on? I had a couple things to add to it.” I give her a please tell me you know what I’m talking about look. Relief hits me as realization spreads across her face.

A small, evil smile plays on her lips. She leans back in her chair and twirls a lock of hair around her finger. “Which list? I make so many.” Fuck, it’s insanely hot when she messes with me.

I look over at our deskmate, Tien. His eyes bounce between the two of us, and his brow is cocked.

“You’d mentioned something about office furniture.” I tilt my head in the direction of the stairs. A blush brightens her cheeks, and her eyes go wide. That’s right, I can play too.

“Right. We tabled that discussion. I’m glad you got it up—I mean brought it up.” Her eyes dart to the zipper of my pants and fuck me she is my favorite person. My dick starts to wake up the more she smirks at me. So much for keeping myself locked down.

I turn to go upstairs hoping she’ll follow me, bumping my thigh into the corner of the desk. I wince because I already have a bruise there from the rough waves this morning.

I hear her following me up the stairs, but I don’t turn back to look.

The second floor is quiet as I lead Ivy down the hall. I take her hand, hurrying to check for an empty room. The small conference room near the top of the stairs is occupied, and across the hall Meredith’s studio has a “Recording In Progress” sign on the door. I jog down to the other end of the hall, Ivy giggling behind me.

“Mars, I have another meeting in fifteen minutes.”

“Don’t worry, this won’t take long.”

She stops in her tracks. “That doesn’t say a whole lot about your skills, my guy.”

I pull her into a dark room, locking the door behind us. “I know your body, Ivy. You know I can get you there. I’ll take care of myself later.”

“But...”

“Shh, get on the table so I can play with your clit.” That seems to put a stop to whatever other objections she had.

“God, I love when stuff like that comes out of your mouth.” She brushes her finger over my bottom lip and I suck it in between my teeth and swirl my tongue around the tip. Her eyes turn hazy and I want to keep that unfocused look on her face.

“Great, because this mouth would like to do things to your pussy. Now hush up and get on the table.”

“I can push my meeting a few minutes,” she mumbles.

I pat the table. “Come on, Ives, you look like you’ve had a rough morning.”

Hopping up on the table, she toes off her shoes. “No seriously, that meeting’s not super important.” She pulls her phone from her pocket and sends off a quick text. “See? No rush. Unless you want to rush.” The words spill out of her, and I give myself a little mental pat on the back that she’s so eager.

My hands on my hips, I look at her, enjoying the bright pink on her cheeks and the wild look in her eyes. Now that I have more time, I pull my wallet from my pants and fish out the condom I put in there this morning. Slapping it on the table, I reach for the button on Ivy’s pants. “Come on, let’s get a jump on some of these benefits.”

IVY

I stare down at the shiny gold foil packet sitting near my hand. I’m a rule follower. A line toe-er. At least in my work life, and we’re here...at work. But I can’t find it in myself to care that I’m going to have sex at my office because Mars is undressing me from the waist down and kissing my neck at the same time.

Yeah, fuck the rules.

His hand dives into my panties, and I moan deep and loud.

“Shh. You have to keep quiet. Wouldn’t want to get caught, would we?”

“Not sure I give a shit.” I exhale, jolting when his middle finger finds my clit and presses. He laughs against my skin.

“That’s my girl,” he says, pressing two fingers into me. My hips rock forward begging for more. His girl. My core clenches around his fingers.

“You mentioned something about your mouth on my clit...?”

“So impatient. I thought we had time.” Mars turns into such a brat when we have our clothes off, and I can’t get enough of it. My body hums with the need to beg for more.

But he knows me. Mars drops to his knees and strips my pants and underwear the rest of the way off. I squeak at the sudden movement. I’m left in my top and one sock, making me smile at how he’s so good at making a mess of me.

Mars brings his face to my center, happy growls coming from his throat. “I missed you.” He gazes up at me. “Your pussy and I are going to be best friends.”

I choke back a laugh. “She told me she really likes you.”

“Good.” Then he’s there. He parts me with his thumbs and licks a long, slow line up my slit, and I bite back another moan. He does it again and again until my legs quiver. He fucks me with his tongue, circling my clit with his thumb but never giving me the pressure I need.

I’m so frustrated by his teasing that I’ve completely forgotten about the difficult client I met with this morning.

“Mars,” I whine. “Please.”

“Please what, Ives?” Brat.

I stab my fingers through his hair and grip him tightly, bringing his face back to where it belongs. “Make me come.” It’s halfway between a plea and a command.

“As you wish.” He smiles and twirls his tongue around my clit. My body jolts with the sensation, pressure building low in my spine, sparks coalescing deep in my belly. My arms give out, and I slump back on the table as the orgasm hits me like a truck.

The pressure to scream Mars’ name builds and builds until I can’t hold back, until my body is a writhing, quivering collection of skin and sparks. Mars’ fingers replace his tongue to coax me over the peak, his other hand coming up to cover my mouth.

“Go ahead, scream all you want,” he says. “Let me feel it.” His hand tightens on my mouth. Why is that so fucking hot?

I finally let go, his hand muffling my ragged screams, sending me to an even higher peak. I come and come until I’m limp and shaking.

My breath saws in and out of my lungs, but I manage a laugh at how messy Mars looks. My arousal glistening on his face, his hair sticking up in all directions. He gives me a quick smile and wraps his arms around my spread thighs, dragging me closer to the edge of the table.

He helps me stand, then grasps my hips and spins me around. His hand presses between my shoulders until I’m folded over the table. I love a man who pays attention.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

“On it,” he says, ripping open the wrapper and rolling the condom on in record time. I rock my hips even before he enters me, needing to be filled like I need oxygen.

When he does finally enter me, stretching me in a way that lights me up, I slap my hands on the table over and over. I beat a rhythm that matches his thrusts as he pumps his hips. My cheek presses against the cool table, my nipples pebbled and aching inside my bra.

My whole body is a live wire, shaking with the feel of his cock filling me up.

“I love,” he groans. My heart stutters. “Your cunt. Jesus, you’re making a mess all over my dick, and I love it.” His lips part with his harsh breathing, and I can tell he’s close. But I’m closer.

I didn’t think it was possible, but this orgasm hits not like a truck, but like a train. This time I cover my own mouth, biting down on the flesh of my palm as white sparks fill my vision.

Mars drops his grip on my hips and shoves up my shirt. He plants his face in the center of my back and lets go in wracking gasps, his body tensing as he pulses inside of me.

There’s no way our coworkers won’t know what we’ve been up to, but all I can think about is how the word love sounded coming out of Mars’ mouth.

CHAPTER 15

ACCIDENTAL KISSES

MARS

Iread the book this time. Or rather, Ivy and I read it together over the course of a weekend. Rocky won’t give me another one of her withering looks when I come up empty during book club discussion time.

As usual, Ivy fills up a basket with new releases before book club begins. We wander Coastline’s aisles together and separately, giving each other heated looks when we meet up. I pass her in the Mystery section, and the brush of her pinkie against mine sends electricity speeding through my veins, straight to my cock.

I can’t wait to get her home and bury my face between her legs, then my cock inside her warm, wanting pussy. Maybe tonight I’ll have her ride my face. That’s when she’s the loudest, and I love her loud.

Letting out a long, deep breath I try to get a handle on myself. Sporting an erection when we’re about to hang with a group of our friends is not ideal.

Ivy heads to the front counter to buy her books and I grab a corner of one of the couches. Colin sits on the other end and gives me a chin nod. Joanie sits across from us, chatting with Rocky about holding a book signing next month.

As I’d hoped, Ivy sits on the cushion next to me, even if she keeps a respectable, we’re-only-fuck-buddies distance between us. I don’t think what we’re doing is a secret, but she avoids public displays of affection aside from the occasional friendly hug. I resist stretching my arm across the back of the couch and playing with her hair, but just barely. Everything about her tempts me.

Rocky starts off the discussion, and we manage to make it almost an hour before the conversation devolves into something not related to the book. Stuart’s telling a story about him at a Bette Midler concert and a misunderstanding with a member of her security staff.

“I swear I was not trying to steal that feather boa,” he protests. Meredith pats him on the knee and we’re all bent over in laughter. I clutch my sides and Ivy wipes tears from under her eyes.

“Fuck, he’s funny,” she says to me. “Want me to grab you some water on my way back from the bathroom?”

I’m still laughing so I only shake my head in answer as she stands up. Ivy starts giggling again at Stuart’s story when she leans down and gives me the quickest forehead kiss. “Okay, babe.”

You know those cowboy movies where the saloon goes deathly quiet when the stranger walks in? Picture that, but quieter. One last laugh escapes me before my lungs seize. Everybody stares at us and I don’t move for fear of setting off some kind of chain reaction.

Ivy straightens and starts backing away from the couch. I glance up to see a what have I done look on her face.

“Aha,” Joanie shouts, pointing at Ivy. “A-fucking-ha! I knew it.” Ivy shakes her head like she’s trying to convince everyone they didn’t see what they just saw.

“Oh man, you’re in for it,” Colin whispers. “She’ll never let this go.”

Stuart has his hands clasped together under his chin, and Meredith regards us with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. I sit up straighter on the couch and look each one of them in the eye.

Ivy backs up several more steps like she’s about to turn and run. “It’s not what it looks…” I pin her with a look before she can finish the sentence. Because it’s exactly what it fucking looks like. She snaps her mouth shut and squares her shoulders.

“Fine, Mars and I are…” She looks down at me for help but I shrug. I love the cranky little look she gives me. “Mars and I are,” she starts again.

“Getting it on like Donkey Kong?” Stuart says. Meredith pats him on the leg.

“No,” she says, shaking her head.

“Doing the horizontal hokey pokey?” He tries again.

“Less hokey, more pokey.” I say, because I can’t stop myself. Ivy smacks me on the shoulder, and I give her the biggest grin I can. She’s holding back a laugh, tears springing to her eyes. Gotcha.

Colin nods his head and puts his hand up for a high five. I smack his palm and immediately regret it when my hand starts to sting.

“We’re all adults here. No reason to make a big deal out of it.” Ivy doesn’t sound like she believes her own words.

Joanie shakes her head. “Oh, honey. I’m going to make the biggest deal out of this.” Colin nods in agreement.

I smile to myself, a feeling of relief washing over me that I didn’t expect. This might change nothing in our relationship, but at least I don’t feel like Ivy’s dirty little secret anymore.

CHAPTER 16

IT'S NOT ABOUT THE HOUSE KEY

MARS

Waking up with Ivy wrapped around me on a regular basis sets something straight in my chest. Beyond calling this thing friends with benefits, we haven’t touched the topic of what we’re doing. But over the last several weeks we’ve spent most nights together, discovered new and interesting places at work to torture each other, and hung out around town and with our friends.

Last night, we almost fell asleep at the beach in the back of my truck after I made her come on my tongue. If this isn’t a relationship, I don’t know what it is.

Ivy stirs in my arms, nuzzling my chest. You wouldn’t think that she’d be a cuddler, but she always has at least a finger on me. I smile to myself, remembering how I woke up last Tuesday to find her hand wrapped around my cock while she slept. Security cock. I snort at the image of her dragging me around by the dick like it’s her emotional support stick.

Her head comes up off my chest, her hair a riot of tangles around her face, her eyes half blinking. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to stay.” And there it is. Every morning we wake up together she tells the little lie that she didn’t mean to spend the night. It keeps our situationship strictly in the No Big Deal category. My chest pinches every time she says it, but I’m trying to build up a callus against it.

Ivy doesn’t do relationships. If this was a drinking game, and I took a shot every time she said it, I’d be in a coma. I love how stubborn she is, but it means frustrating mornings like this where we have to act like what we’re doing isn’t by definition a relationship.

I sit up and swing my legs out of bed. “Let me make you coffee before you head home.” I pull my joggers up, foregoing my boxers for now.

“No, come back to bed,” she whines, making grabby hands at me. I shake one of her hands like we’re formally meeting for the first time. She laughs, flopping back on the bed. “Dork.”

“Your dork,” I say, poking the relationship bruise because I’m feeling a little salty today. Then I immediately feel like an asshole, because this is what we agreed to. Friends who fuck. Nothing more. She’s been clear about her boundaries, and I have to respect that. Doesn’t mean I have to like it though.

I start the coffee maker, one that’s made of sturdy, Mars proof stuff. On my way to the bathroom, I stub my toe on the end table that I always stub my toe on, mutter a fuck, and limp into the small room. My wetsuit hangs from the shower curtain, and I pull it on.

“Ives, get a move on,” I call from the bathroom. “I’m leaving in ten for the beach and your coffee’s brewing.”

From the sound of her voice, she’s still in bed. “Can’t I stay a little longer? Your bed is so cozy.” She sings the last word, and I smile.

“If you had a key, you could lock the door on your way out.” This is the second time I’ve brought it up, another bruise to poke. I’m not proud of the Susan-level passive aggressiveness in my statement.

There’s a hesitation, longer than the last time I mentioned a key. “No, that’s okay, I’m up. I’ll be ready to go soon. Just need to find my pants.”

They’re in the front room, where she left them after we stumbled in from our night at the beach. She always leaves them in the front room. I bite back a frustrated sigh.

At the front door, Ivy pops up on her toes and gives me a quick kiss. I squeeze her hips and pull her in for a longer one. “Thanks for last night. See you at work,” she says with a bright smile, waving her travel mug at me. With that, she’s out the door and in her car. I try not to let her quick exit bother me. This is us; this is how Ivy and Mars do whatever we’re doing. If this is the most I get from her, it’s enough. It has to be. The question is, for how much longer?

IVY

I almost broke when he brought up the key again. Would it be such a big deal if I had a key to his place? I mean, it’s bigger and cozier than my tiny apartment. We don’t disturb the neighbors when things get loud. His shower is nicer, his TV bigger, and it’s filled with all things Mars. His wetsuit and his sketchbooks and his bookshelves. His canvases and paints, and a set of Adirondacks on the back porch.

Friends give each other keys to their places all the time. You’re an idiot, Ivy Lowenstein. The wall to protect myself is so thick and sturdy you can see it from space, despite the cracks Mars has caused. They grow wider and deeper every day, and the scary part is that I kinda want more cracks.

CHAPTER 17

CHANGING THE RULES OF THE GAME

MARS

Having tea at Betty’s Tattoos and Tea didn’t used to be an adventure. But then Ivy and I started doing...whatever we’re doing and now she likes to toy with me under the table. We’re taking a long afternoon break from work, drinking from delicate cups that I probably shouldn’t be handling, and Ivy’s running her foot up and down my leg, getting higher with each pass.

“Ivy,” I warn. She smiles, takes a sip of her tea, and scoots closer.

“I don’t feel like going back to work. Do you?” She nibbles at a tiny fruit tart and licks cream from her lips in a way that reminds me of how she sucked me down in the backseat of her car last week. Getting an erection in the middle of a tea shop probably breaks about eighteen separate rules of decorum.

I reach my hand out to swipe the bit of cream she has at the corner of her lip when Betty appears next to our table. Her gray braids are piled on top of her head, showing off the tattoos that adorn her neck and shoulders.

“Hey, Betty,” Ivy says, like she wasn’t torturing me. “The tea is delicious as usual.”

Betty waves away Ivy’s complement and turns to me. “Mars, dear, I have great news. My niece finally dumped that loser of a boyfriend.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “Um, sorry to hear that...?” I glance at Ivy and she shrugs.

Betty waves her finger between me and Ivy. “Now that your little fake dating show is over, I can give her your number. Or, better yet, I can give you her number.” Before I can say anything, she pulls out her phone and taps on it. My own phone vibrates in my pocket.

“Betty, I’m not sure,” I begin. Ivy sits very still in her seat, and I can’t read the expression on her face. “I mean, I don’t know,” I start again.

Betty steamrolls right over me. “You remember me telling you about her? She’s an architect in Berkeley, but that’s not too far. She loves the beach and is an avid reader. Smartest girl I know, and serious about her relationships. Ready to finally settle down.” She doesn’t spare Ivy a look, but it’s as if she shined a bright spotlight on her.

“Alicia’s great,” a voice says from over my shoulder. I turn around to see Dana, June, and Dale sitting at a table. Trouble in the tea shop. “You two would be perfect together,” Dana says. Dale nods in agreement.

“She works with orphaned puppies,” June says. She jumps when Dana kicks her under the table and shakes her head. Too much, she mouths.

I turn back to Ivy with a laugh, but she’s not smiling. She stares at me like she’s just come to some kind of epic realization. My mouth goes dry.

Desperate to end this conversation before Betty lists off Alicia’s other attributes, I say in my best medium-enthusiasm voice, “She sounds great. I’ll think about it.”

Betty leaves us with a parting smirk, like she’s pleased with the little grenade she tossed. I feel Ivy’s eyes studying me like I’m a problem she needs to solve. I don’t like it.

“Are you going to call her?” The question throws me for a loop, makes something in my head pop. I don’t know how to answer her, and her question causes frustration to build in my chest. I pay for our tea, wait for Ivy to get her jacket, and head out the door.

“I don’t know,” I say when we’re out on the sidewalk even though there’s no way in hell I’m calling Betty’s niece—no matter how great she is.

Ivy folds her arms over her chest with her shoulders stiff and her eyes pointing somewhere over my shoulder. “You should. She sounds perfect for you.”

The funny thing about a monster wave is that sometimes you don’t realize it’s about to pull you under until it’s right on top of you. I feel like I’ve been smacked in the chest by the biggest wave California’s ever seen. Knocked off my board with no hope of finding the surface.

“You can’t be fucking serious right now, Ives.” It’s out before I can check myself. I’m so tired of dancing around the topic of us that my filter finally breaks.

She stares at me.

“Wait, you really want me to take Betty up on her offer?” I ask through gritted teeth, my heart heaving itself against my ribs.

“You’re a relationship guy, and the niece is obviously looking for one of those.” Red paints Ivy’s cheeks when her eyes finally meet mine.

“Unlike you, right?”

“Right.”

“Maybe I’m weird, but I thought it’d be uncouth to ask another woman out while I was fucking my best friend.” Ivy flinches at my words, but I’m beyond caring. I turn around to head back to work. I don’t know if I have anything left to say right now.

She follows me as I walk quickly back to The Base. I’m not stomping, but these aren’t happy steps.

“Mars. Hey, come on. It’s not like you don’t still have those dating apps on your phone. I don’t get why you’re so mad.” She can’t be this oblivious.

I spin back to her. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I deleted those apps the night you kissed me, Ives. That. Night. What have we been doing, Ivy? Is it really only fucking for you? Why are you pushing me so hard to go out with someone else? Because if I do, this ends,” I say, motioning between the two of us.

She blinks at me. “The fucking or the friendship?”

My shoulders sag. “The fucking, Ivy. We’ll always be friends. But...”

“I don’t do relationships.” It’s like someone pulled the string on her back and she’s repeating one of her few programmed phrases. I want to scream.

“You should have Ryan tattoo that somewhere where everyone can see it. But either way, I’m not asking out Betty’s niece.”

“I know I keep repeating myself, but you know why I don’t want to get involved with anybody.”

“Surprise, Ivy! We’re involved. I know what you taste like, I know what you sound like when you come, I’ve felt you squeeze the life out of my cock multiple times. But you know what else we do? We hang out, we laugh, we eat together, we commiserate and make fun of Stuart together. So I’d hate to tell you this, Ivy, but this is a fucking relationship. It might not have a label on it, and I know you’re scared shitless, but what the hell do you think we’ve been doing for the past month and a half?”

Ivy’s mouth opens and closes a few times before she says, “But you deserve someone who can do this. Who can...who can love you.” Well there it is. I thought we were building toward it, but she was never going to walk through that door. Fatigue and defeat fill my lungs. I need time to regroup.

I take a breath and turn back to work, intending to grab my stuff and go home. Maybe I’ll go surfing.

I hear Ivy’s footsteps behind me. I manage to pack up my laptop without dropping anything while she hovers around me. We get a few stares from our coworkers, a raised eyebrow from Carla, but everybody leaves us alone.

She follows me out to the parking lot and seizes my arm. “Talk to me, Mars. Please.”

“I need some space, Ivy. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“No, I’m not done talking.” She stamps her foot, and I’d laugh if I wasn’t feeling so hollowed out right now.

I sling my laptop onto my passenger seat, nearly avoiding the gear shift. Turning around and crossing my arms, I give Ivy a say what you have to say look. My jaw hurts with how tightly I’m keeping back everything I want to say.

IVY

“I don’t understand why you think you’re so unlovable. For fuck’s sake, Mars, people adore you. Look at how close you are with Colin and Stuart. Your cousins. Everybody at work loves you. So yeah, you deserve more from a relationship than a good fuck and some laughs.

“You deserve someone who sees your generous heart, the way you shrug off whatever mishaps come your way, who can see how much heart you put into your art. How you’re just so good. Someone who will love you because you’re the best fucking guy.” I’m shouting now and there are tears. Not sure when those showed up.

“But that person can’t be you, is that what you’re saying?” His arms are crossed over his chest, and he pins me with a look that feels equal parts sad and angry. The look makes my chest crack open, and I can’t stand that I put it there.

“Why would you think I could ever be that person? You know I’m not capable of—”

“Relationships. No, I got it the hundred and fiftieth time you said it. You’ve made that clear many, many times since we started hooking up.” Why do the words hooking up make me want to protest that it’s more than that? So much more. My heart and brain are at war. I wrap my arms around my middle trying to hold myself together.

“Mars, if we...went there, I wouldn’t survive the end of it. You’re my best friend, and when things fall apart, I won’t have you to turn to. I can’t risk it.” More tears prick my eyes and no amount of sniffling keeps them at bay.

He lets out a harsh laugh. “It’s funny how you lecture me on how I’m deserving of love but you can’t see it the other way around. Do you deserve love, Ivy?”

The question hits me like a kick to the gut. I try to answer him, but nothing comes out.

He takes the opportunity to keep going. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re too scared to leap, but you’re telling me to jump. But not with you. Never you. It’s exhausting.” He takes a breath and pins me with his own red-rimmed eyes. “You can’t tell me to find love but cut yourself off from it.”

The thought of him finding it with someone else slices through me like a jagged knife. It started as a dull ache at Betty’s, but now I can’t focus beyond the pain of it. The air leaves my lungs, and it’s hard to draw a breath.

I try to picture him with another woman, and I can’t. I can’t. It’s me that I see.

It’s me holding his hand walking down the street. It’s me he touches in the back of his truck. It’s me he draws in his sketchbook when he thinks I’m not looking. It’s me he takes to bed and says all the dirty words to. Not some other faceless woman. Me.

Fuck.

Tears slip down my face because I’m scared. So fucking scared that no words come out. Too scared to tell him that I’m falling for him, and I’m tired of fighting it. So tired.

He takes a step closer and pulls me into a hug, even though I know he’s probably done with me. Please don’t let him be done with me. A sob leaves my throat as I wrap my arms around his waist.

“Ives, you’re right. I do deserve to be loved,” he whispers in my ear. “And so do you. You need time to think about it, I know. If you want to talk later, I’m here. But I have things to think about too.”

“Okay,” I whisper into his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.

“Know this, Ivy. I’m ready when you are, and no matter what, you’re my best friend.” That makes me sob harder, and he squeezes me tighter. He kisses the side of my head, above my ear, then he’s gone, getting in his truck without a backwards glance.

I can’t think of anything worse than losing Mars from my life. The idea of heading back to work is too much. I’m a mess and on the edge of crumpling to the ground. Leaning against the outside wall, I spend minutes simply breathing, trying to calm my aching, racing heart.

Two things have become painfully obvious in the last hour. I need to figure my shit out, and I need help doing it.

I pull my phone from my pocket and shoot off a group text.

Help

JOANIE

Who do I need to kill?

MEREDITH

I know fifteen different ways to dispose of a body.

I snort. I love these women. That wasn’t so hard, was it Ivy?

I could use the powers of the brain trust. You free tonight?

JOANIE

Your place?

Please

MEREDITH

I’ll be there. I have the biggest jar of olives in the back of my fridge, and I don’t know where it came from.

JOANIE

Dirty martinis it is. Brace your livers.

Can you bring chocolate too?

MEREDITH

Joanie, bring whatever you have. I got the chocolate covered. We’ll be over tonight.

I don’t know how I manage to make it through the rest of the day, but staring at my living room wall features heavily. In that time, I start about fifteen different texts to Mars, all some variation of I miss you already.

I jump when Meredith bangs on my door. I can tell it’s her because Joanie’s knock is significantly less psychotic.

Opening the door, I’m met with twin head tilts. Fresh tears start and I wipe them away on the sleeve of my hoodie. Mars’ hoodie actually. Great, more tears.

Joanie gives me a quick squeeze on the way to the kitchen. “Buck up, Ivy. It’s all part of the process.”

“Process?” I sniffle.

“Whatever’s happening between you and Mars right now, it’s only one step on your way to your happily ever after.” More tears.

Meredith snorts, and Joanie turns on her, pointing a finger in her face. “Don’t you start, Miss Frowny Face. You got your own HEA, now it’s Ivy’s turn.”

I slump down on the couch and wait for them to join me. Meredith hands me a very full martini glass with five olives crowded on a toothpick, which is weird because I don’t own martini glasses. A problem for another day.

Meredith takes the armchair while Joanie drops on the couch next to me.

“Okay, what did you do?” Joanie asks.

I choke on a sip of my drink. “What makes you think I did something?”

They give me matching flat looks.

I sigh. This is the downside of having friends who know you. “We had a fight because I suggested he take Betty up on her offer to set him up with her niece.”

“Oh, Alicia’s lovely. Super nice, smart, beautiful. I’ve met her a few times,” Joanie gushes.

Meredith chucks an olive at her. “What the fuck, Joanie? Not helping.” Joanie catches the olive and pops it in her mouth.

“Let me get this straight. You told him you don’t want him, but you don’t want him going out with someone else?”

I really am an asshole. “I mean, probably not a good idea while we’re sleeping together.”

“Stop sleeping together then,” Joanie says with a shrug. My whole body rejects the thought, and I want to throw up.

Meredith studies me like I’m spread thin on a microscope slide.

“Why’s he mad?” she asks.

“He said that we’re already in a relationship, even if we haven’t put a label on it.”

“The man has a point,” Joanie mutters.

“Joanie! You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“No offense, babe, but your side is stupid.”

“Mars has made it clear he wants to be in a relationship with you, but you don’t want to be in one with him. Why don’t you tell him that? I’m sure you can still be friends.” Meredith sounds like she doesn’t believe her own words. Probably because they feel wrong.

“I don’t do—”

An olive hits me in the forehead.

“What the fuck, Joanie?” I rub at the spot. She reaches over and plucks the olive out of my lap and pops it in her mouth. Meredith shakes her head.

“Get over yourself. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? How could you possibly think Mars is anything like the loser boys you’ve dated?” Joanie’s face starts to turn red.

I open my mouth to protest, but she’s on a roll.

“Has he ever put you down to make himself feel better? Or does he sing your praises every chance he gets? Does he support you or does he tear you down? And have you seen the way the man looks at you, for fuck’s sake?” Oh, my little Joanie is big mad.

My mind flashes back to the conversation between Mars and Henning I overheard. The one where Mars called me ‘amazing’ and said he wasn’t good enough for me. I choke back more tears.

“Do you have any flipping clue how lucky you are? And no, you shouldn’t be with someone only because they love you. There’s no point if you don’t love them back. But here’s the thing you beautiful dope, you do love him. Why are you fighting this so hard? I don’t get it. Your happily ever after is within your grasp, but you’re sitting here with your thumb up your ass.”

Meredith and I share a shocked look at Joanie’s outburst.

“Joanie...”

“I swear to god, I will sign you up for every horrible karaoke song if you don’t wake the fuck up. Would you rather be sad and alone because you don’t do relationships?” Her voice does an unflattering version of my own.

“Okay, I don’t sound like that.” Another olive hits my forehead. I did not know her aim was so good. “Hey, knock it off.” I wipe at the olive juice dripping into my eyebrow.

“I’ll knock it off when you stop being so friggin’ stubborn.”

“Why are you so angry? Jesus.”

“Because you’re not following the fucking plot,” she yells. Pointing a shaking finger at me, she turns to Meredith. “This one is too thick-skulled to get out of her own way, and she’s about to ruin the best friends-to-lovers story this town has going.”

Meredith laughs. “Joanie, we’re not living inside one of your stories. Ivy will get there, even if her story beats are all off. Or she won’t. Now, put the olives down.”

Joanie deflates on the couch. “You’re right,” she mutters. She turns back to me. “And you’re not an idiot, Ivy. But sometimes you make me want to throttle you. If you truly don’t want to be in a relationship, you have to set the guy free. But if you’re acting out of fear, you’re cutting yourself off from potentially the best thing to ever happen. Mars is so far gone for you—everybody can see it. And you both deserve to be happy.”

I stare at her, hearing her, the words so far gone for you playing on a loop in my head and my chest.

I think back to the wedding when it felt like we were a team. Mars and Ivy against the assholes. He had no problem letting me take the lead on some of our harder interactions with Susan’s family, and I’ve met few men who would be okay with that.

I close my eyes and remember all the times he’s laughed off his little clumsy episodes. Henning would’ve looked for someone or something to blame if he tripped over his own feet.

A sad warmth moves from my chest to my fingertips. Why have I been holding him at arm’s length, denying what we have, when he’s been right fucking there? He’s been right fucking there since we met, since I almost killed him with my car.

I bury my head in my hands. “I’ve been so…”

“Blind? Self-destructive? I’m surprised Betty hasn’t given up on you yet.”

Meredith makes a slashing motion across her neck but Joanie ignores it. I look between the two. “What, you two thought I didn’t realize what Betty and her group of gossips were doing? You might think I’m dense, but I’m not that dense.”

“Targeted by the Wavecrest Meddlers Brigade. They’ve probably been at it since they all saw you and Mars dancing at the anniversary party,” Joanie says with a sly grin.

I stare at her with my martini halfway to my mouth. “Wait, I didn’t think they were that invested in us. I assumed they were bored and decided to pick on us because we were easy marks.”

“What, like they wanted to see two beautiful idiots kiss for shits and giggles? No, you sweet summer child, I’d be surprised if they didn’t have one of those cork boards with red string all over it.” Meredith says this like it should be obvious to my smooth brain.

I open my mouth, but I can’t form words. I should’ve known—the town gossips always have a bigger agenda.

“And I think deep down you chose to go along with their shenanigans because it brought you closer to Mars,” Joanie says, her smug smile matching Meredith’s.

“Betty, Dana, Dale.” I start ticking names off on my fingers as I sink slowly back on the couch.

“Don’t forget June.”

“I can’t believe you fell for the oldest trick in the book—reverse psychology. And their acting skills aren’t even that great.” Meredith shakes her head in disappointment.

“One can only aspire to that level of shit-stiring. I hope one day they’ll accept me as one of their own.” Joanie gets a far off look on her face and sighs.

I’ve been played and I’m not even mad about it. Would I have hooked up with Mars without their interference? Would our kisses have been any less heated? Would the fake dating have felt any less real?

I put my head in my hands and let out a watery laugh. “I had no idea it went so deep.”

“Love makes us stupid,” Joanie says, rubbing circles on my back. I want to protest, but what would be the point?

“This is what I get for having a romance writer as a friend.” I shoot her a glare but my insides warm at her sympathetic look.

“Oh, shush. You’re lucky to have me.” I am, but she’ll have to pry that fact out of me.

Joanie was right, I’m an idiot. I sniffle, welcoming the hot tears that start up again.

CHAPTER 18

I GUESS WE'RE DOING THIS IN FRONT OF AN AUDIENCE

MARS

Another meeting, another day where I’m adding detail to the illustration of Ivy as a shield-maiden that I started at the wedding. Brian drones on in my ear about next quarter’s targets and new board designs. Listening with half an ear, I run my thumb over where my pen finally perfected the slope of Ivy’s nose. I look forward to making the change on the skateboard deck design I started.

I glance at my phone, hoping for a new text but knowing there’s nothing there. I hate how we left things yesterday, but I’m determined to give Ivy the space she needs to figure out what she wants.

I needed space too, but that ended when I fell into my empty bed last night. Not having Ivy in my arms sent me beyond the limit of what I can stand.

She’s not at work today, which has me on edge. But that ends this evening. I’m going over to her place, and we’re going to work this out. A spike of fear lances through my chest, and I rub at the spot with my hand. The hand holding my pen. Looking down, I see the dark smudge on my white shirt and sigh. Ivy would laugh and shake her head if she saw it.

I swallow a sharp lump in my throat as Brian closes out the meeting. Giving Ivy’s empty chair another look, I pull off my headphones and press the heels of my hands to my eyes.

A loud gasp comes from behind me, and I startle out of my seat, almost falling to the floor. I catch myself on the edge of my desk and stand. Turning around, my heart stops when I see Ivy standing there. The tip of her nose is red, and her eyes look puffy. She’s in leggings and my hoodie, an outfit she usually only wears around the house.

“Ivy?” I start. But her eyes stay glued to my desk. I finally catch what she’s staring at. The drawing. The one of her in armor, riding into battle carrying a sword. The armor’s not fully fleshed out, but her face and hair are. There’s no mistaking it’s her.

“You...you added to it?” Her eyes finally meet mine.

“Yes.” I want to say more, but I’m having a hard time forming words.

“And that’s how you see me?” She twists her fingers together, and she drops my gaze, now making eye contact with my chin.

“Yes,” I answer. It’s all I can manage because I’m dying to gather her in my arms, but I don’t know yet if that’s what she wants from me.

“With impenetrable armor?” She sounds like she’s fighting back a sob.

Fuck it. I take the two steps that separate us and gather her in my arms.

“Ives. No, baby. That armor’s just for show. I see you as a kick-ass friend who stands up for her people no matter who she pisses off. You’re a warrior. That armor’s not impenetrable if you don’t want it to be,” I murmur into her ear.

The silence of the usually bustling office pierces our little bubble, and I notice we have a curious audience.

“But not only a friend, right?” she asks into my neck, her voice hovering between fear and hope.

Before I can say anything, she continues. “I heard you, you know?” I shake my head in confusion. “What you said to Henning outside Foggy’s. Nobody I’ve dated has ever said those things about me.” Her voice is thick with tears and I squeeze her tighter. “Fuck, Mars, you have no idea what your words meant to me. Nobody’s ever seen me the way you do.”

I pull back to look at her. Her eyes spark with something, and I suck in a breath. But I need her to lay it out for me.

“What do you want Ivy? If you weren’t scared of what could happen down the road, what would you truly want?”

She leans into me for a second but then pulls back. I drop my hands, ready to accept my fate. But then she starts digging through her purse, pulling out a handful of scraps of paper and slamming them on my desk.

Ivy points at them and says in a clear voice, “This. I want this.” She smacks her hand on the little stack. I shake my head, not understanding. Picking up the first one she holds it in front of my face.

I recognize it immediately as one of my doodles, the one from the anniversary party. An inflatable unicorn using sharp knitting needles to make a horn cozy. “What…?”

“I want the man who imagines these wonderful, sweet things. I want the man”—she pauses and picks up the next scrap and shoves it in my face—“who drew an otter as a therapist in an office. Seriously, who but you could come up with this?” She stares at the drawing and some of her fierceness softens.

She picks up the rest of the stack. “A yawning coffee mug.” She waves a placemat around. I vaguely remember drawing it, but don’t remember Ivy taking it. “A surfboard spitting out seaweed. A desk saying ‘ouch’ when a foot kicks it.” She looks at me, clutching the drawings to her chest. “I want the guy who sees the world this way. Who finds humor in almost every situation. Who’s as solid as the furniture he’s tripped over a million times, but who’s soft when the world tries to make him hard. Who doesn’t let a million bumps and bruises dim his smile. I want you, Mars. Only you.”

My heart rattles against my ribs, and I reach for her, but she’s on a roll. And nobody stops my Ivy when she’s got things to say. “I want the guy who sees me like this.” She holds up my drawing of her. “Because I really fucking love that guy.” Her voice softens, and a tear escapes down her cheek.

Blood rushes to my head. She said love, but I’m going to need her to repeat it a million times.

I finally manage to unstick myself from where I’m gaping and wrap my arms around her. I hear a sniffle from the vicinity of Stuart’s desk and smile before I take Ivy’s mouth in a kiss. Not simply any kiss. The kiss. The kiss that’s the beginning of the rest of our story. The kiss that tells her everything I can’t put into words.

“That guy...this guy is all yours, Ives. Since the day we met and you declared me your friend, I’ve been all yours. I love you beyond...just beyond.” Her arms tighten around me, and she sighs. “I love how unapologetically fierce you are with your friends, with your company, when we’re making love. I love that my lack of grace doesn’t change the way you see me.”

I pull back to look at her. To take in Ivy as she is now, because now she’s mine. She reaches up and brushes my hair off my forehead. “You love me.” It’s not a question, but I nod. “And I love you.” I nod again, tightening my hold on her.

Putting her head back on my shoulder, she sighs. “We’re really doing this?”

I laugh. “Ives, we’ve been doing this all along.”

“Joanie’s going to be insufferable.”

From over my shoulder I hear, “Darn straight.”

EPILOGUE

IVY — ONE YEAR LATER

Isit on the low sea wall, watching Mars stand at the water’s edge and gaze out at the ocean while he waits for me.

A loud slurping pierces the calm, and I turn to look at Joanie. “Seriously?” She turns to stare at me and slurps even harder. “You know, there was nothing in that bet that said I had to keep buying you those ridiculous drinks every month in perpetuity.”

“And yet you keep buying them for me.” She takes another sip of her pink and purple swirly beverage that has the barest hint of coffee in it.

“Tell me again why you’re here. This is my and Mars’ surf time.” Joanie gives me a shrug, never letting go of the straw. I startle when someone drops down onto the wall on my other side.

Meredith. She silently salutes me with her travel mug. It’s probably filled with black coffee and the tears of her victims. “You too? Is this beach day and nobody told me?”

“Every day is beach day for you,” Meredith points out. “Joanie and I were curious how your surfing was coming along.”

“See for yourself.” I hop off the wall and pull my wetsuit zipper the last few inches. I let out a piercing whistle and our dog, Spock, comes running. He’s carrying a stick that’s entirely too big for his body, and he looks so proud of himself. “Can you keep an eye on him while we’re out there?” I ask my two friends. They both hold up their drinks in acknowledgement.

Mars is still staring out at the water, his arms folded over his chest and our boards on the sand next to him. He’s been a little off the last couple weeks, and I know work has gotten much busier. He needs this time on the water to unwind, and ever since he started giving me lessons, I come out with him a couple times a week. I’m finally getting the hang of it.

“Come on, let’s go.” I tug on his arm, and he turns to look at me with a grin.

“Yeah, let’s do this.”

I manage to catch a few good waves, whooping with delight when I ride without falling off. Mars has a permanent grin on his face. I can’t get enough of watching him catch wave after wave.

I take a break and straddle my board, bobbing on the water. An otter pops up, does a few rolls, and dives back under. Thinking of Mars’ drawing of an otter sitting in a therapist’s chair makes me laugh. We have it framed, along with some of his other drawings, and hung in our hallway. The skateboard deck with the illustration of me in armor hangs over the fireplace.

We moved in together within a month of making our relationship official and adopted Spock a month after that. The word relationship no longer scares me, not when I get to wake up to Mars every morning, spend quiet evenings with our friends or snuggling on the couch, and be in his arms every night.

Mars and I end up floating next to each other, quietly watching the horizon. He toys with the neck of his wetsuit and gazes at me. “Hey, Ives?”

“Hey, Mars,” I respond.

“I have a question for you.” His voice comes out in a rasp, and suddenly I know. Oh, shit. I know.

My eyes lock on his, and my heart almost comes out of my chest when I see the hopeful but unsure look in his eyes. I reach out a hand to him and he takes it, gripping me like he’s afraid I’ll float away.

“Ask me anything,” I manage to say.

“Want to get married?” The simplest question coming from the best man I know. I want to leap up onto my board and jump up and down with happiness right now. But I swallow it down.

“To you?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice calm.

Mars huffs out a laugh and squeezes my hand. “Yes, to me. I know how much you love weddings.” The smile he gives me lights up his face. He drops my hand and holds up a finger for me to wait a second. He pulls the zipper part way down on his wetsuit and takes out a chain that hangs around his neck. “If you say yes you get to wear this.”

Out comes the prettiest emerald ring I’ve ever seen, hanging from the chain around his neck. Not too big, not too flashy, but classic and gorgeous. I suck in a breath and tears sting my eyes. “Oh, Mars,” I manage to say.

I scramble off my board and try to climb on his. He reaches for me, but we only manage to tip ourselves into the water. Coming up for air I wrap my arms and legs around Mars and plant the biggest, wettest kiss on him. He holds me to him with one arm and tucks the ring back in his wetsuit.

“But,” I protest. “Gimme.”

He laughs. “I haven’t heard a yes out of you yet. And you have to wait until we’re on dry land and off the beach. There’s no way I’m losing this thing in the water or sand.”

I squeeze him tighter and pepper his face with kisses as we bob in the waves. I don’t miss his sniffle or red-rimmed eyes.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes. I will marry you, Mars Brooks.” I throw my head back and shout it louder. “Yes.”

Spock barks from the beach, and I turn to see Joanie and Meredith jumping up and down and clapping. “Wait, is that why they’re here?”

Mars reaches for his board while keeping one arm around me. “That was the deal. If they helped me look for a ring, they got to witness the proposal. And Joanie wants to use our fake dating, friends to lovers, only one bed meet cute for one of her books.”

I gape at him. “What, she gave me a crash course in all the cool romance lingo. I’m pretty much an expert now.” He looks so smug, I want to kiss that smirk off of his face. So I do.

We make our way to shore, and I run out of the waves, carrying my board. As soon as Mars is on dry land, I wrap my arms around him again and haul him into another kiss. He smiles against my lips as Spock jumps and barks around us. Joanie and Meredith are still cheering, but all I can focus on is Mars.

The most real thing that I’ve ever had.

IVY AND MARS spend some quality time at the beach. Things get interesting in this steamy bonus scene.

WHAT HAPPENS when you shut a black-cat audio engineer and the golden-retriever coworker she can’t ignore in a tiny sound booth after hours? Read Stuart and Meredith's office romance in Hear Me Out, first in the Work For It series.

READ what goes down when a romance writer realizes the guy she's had a tiny crush on is not who he first seems. Read Joanie and Colin's love story in Seen You Before, part of the Work For It series.

HELP OTHER'S DISCOVER MARS’ sweet cinnamon roll charm. If you enjoyed Fake It ’til You Feel It, let your friends know by leaving a review. You can also find me on Goodreads and BookBub.

Thank you for reading! Want more steamy, snarky, sweet stories about the people of Wavecrest and The Base? Visit hillykeen.com to sign up for reader updates.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hilly Keen is not a NYT bestseller, but sometimes she does the crossword in pen. In her youth, when she wasn’t watching classic Cary Grant movies, reading Judy Blume, or making friendship bracelets, she antagonized the golfers on the course bordering her childhood home.

When she’s not yelling at her computer screen, she’s not above begging her two cats for affection. Leaving her Northern California home means either the fridge is empty or she’s hunting for vintage typewriters and boomboxes to add to her collection. Please send shelves.

Visit hillykeen.com to sign up for reader updates, see a current list of her books, and find bonus content. Connect with her on Instagram (@hillykeen), Threads (@hillykeen), and Facebook (@hillykeen). BlueSky too (@hillykeen.bsky.social)!