added. “They’re in the house.”
A photo of Vance. Vance, at war.
Before she could respond, Skye arrived from the beach, wearing her usual sloppy pants and sweatshirt, a black Lab at her heels. “Private rushed me along. I guess he’s excited about the wedding, too.”
Layla looked at the couple. “Is that why you’re here? You’re really going to say ‘I do’ at No. 9 next month?”
“Any longer might give my honey-pie time to come to her senses,” Griffin said.
Jane smiled at him. “I keep telling you, chili-dog, with a ring or without one, I’ll still be your grammar girl.” Then they both laughed as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hair.
Vance shook his head at them. “I’m too polite to retch at those nicknames, Griff.”
“They started as insults,” Jane confided, “but now they’ve kind of grown on us. More Beach House No. 9 magic, I guess.”
“Speaking of which,” Griffin said, turning to Skye, “we’re sure this place will be available on the wedding date, right? Have you heard any more from the mysterious August tenant who went AWOL?”
“Yes. The balance was paid, finally. And I informed Mr. Fenton Hardy that I’d waive his late fee in exchange for the use of this place on the last weekend in August.”
An odd expression crossed Griffin’s face. “Did you say Fenton Hardy?”
Skye’s brows came together. “Yes. Do you know him?”
He glanced at his fiancée, who went still for a moment and then opened her mouth. “Isn’t that—”
“A really fortuitous turn of events,” Griffin said over her, and then he turned to gaze about the deck. “I’m sure we’ll have enough room here. It’s going to be very small. A few friends, family.”
Jane nodded, her smile aimed first at Griffin and then at Skye and Layla. “And we’re accustomed to small, since we’re living together in my tiny one-bedroom until we find the perfect bigger place—we hope near the beach.” Her voice turned more casual. “Have you heard from Gage lately, Skye? We don’t have a clue as to whether he’ll make it back for the nuptials.”
The other woman blinked, and her hand crept to her stomach. “You...you think there’s a chance he might be in the States next month?”
Jane flicked a glance at Griffin, then shrugged. “You hear from him more than anyone. What’s your opinion?”
“His last letter didn’t say a thing about it.” Skye bit her lip. “He mentioned he had a new contact, was hoping to take a trip into territory he hadn’t been to before. Nothing about returning here.”
“Well—” Griffin began.
“He can’t come to Crescent Cove.” The words rushed from Skye. “I mean, he’d never like it here. Not anymore.” Then, clearly flustered, she sped toward the steps and was gone.
“I don’t think I understand,” Layla said.
Jane grimaced. “I don’t think any of us do, including Gage. He’s been exchanging letters with Skye for months. She’s clearly smitten—but clearly terrified by the idea, too.”
“Why?”
“For good reason,” Griffin said. “My twin lives for hard-edged excitement. Skye has too much of a soft underbelly. She’ll get hurt.”
Jane sighed. “People warned me away from you, too.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “People? Like who?”
“Oh, that’s right, it was you.” She grinned at him.
“A man can change,” he grumbled.
“So might Gage,” Jane pointed out. “Especially if he’s exposed to the Beach House No. 9 magic.”
Vance groaned. “Feeling the need to retch again.”
Jane laughed and threaded her arm through Griffin’s. “We can’t have that.” She tilted her head toward Layla. “Would you like to see the photographs? They’re inside the house. You can keep any you like.”
“I...” She swallowed. “Okay.”
The couple moved toward the sliding glass door, but Vance held Layla back. He turned her to face him. “Really. Are you okay? Last night...”
Heat flowed up her neck to her face. “Do we have to talk about it?”
A smile slowly spread across his face. “‘Talking about it’ seems to work well for us.”
“Vance.”
He leaned in and took her mouth in a searing kiss. Then his fingertips floated over the small bump on her scalp. “Head okay?”
At her nod, his hand moved lower, his thumb exploring beneath the open collar of her shirt to touch a place low on the side of her throat. “Did I leave a bruise?”
The heat was everywhere now, prickling beneath the hair on her head, tickling the sensitive backs of her knees. She took hold of him, tucking her fingertips under the waistband of his jeans at his sides so she didn’t fall to the deck where her melting body would