“Ah, Jamie! Yes, yes . . .”

Her pleasure made his spiral, and he fell into that lovely abyss with her. They came into each other, their mouths locked in a kiss full of heat and sweet desire.

Hot and sweet—that was his girl.

They were both panting as he carried her through the house and fell onto the bed with her. They were still twined together. He didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t know if he ever could.

Panic tried to grip him, but her warm body against his, the soft thud of her heart against his chest, chased it away.

Maybe because it’s her, it’ll be okay.

Or maybe he was completely delusional.

He wasn’t going to think of that now. Not with her still warm in his arms. Still his. Until he let her go.

*   *   *

SUMMER SKIRTED AROUND a crowd of tourists and pushed through the doors of The Grill on Chartres Street in the French Quarter, the same place she and Dennie had been coming to for lunch or breakfast since middle school. The place was an offshoot of the reknowned Camellia Grill out on Carrollton. Both locations had only diner-style counter seating, and the menus were simple Louisiana fare—omelettes and pancakes and some of the best waffles anywhere in the world, not to mention the gumbo. But they came mostly for the staff, who habitually argued with one another, slung food at the diners and generally misbehaved. After all these years the guys who worked there all knew them, and their plates were slid in front of them with a wink and a free cup of coffee.

She slid onto a stool and was looking over the menu when Dennie sat down beside her and gave her a one-armed hug.

“What’s up, sweetie?”

“I just got here. Do you want something to drink? A sweet tea? Yes?” Summer turned to the waiter, who had ambled by their spot at the counter while pretending to ignore them. “Andre, two teas for us, please.”

“You ladies can have anything you want—you know that,” he said, flashing a wide grin at them, his voice running thick with his Cajun accent. “How ’bout a big plate of waffles covered in whipped cream? Some hot chocolate? That’s our Tuesday lunch special.”

Dennie laughed. “It is not. And we’re not thirteen anymore, Andre. And it’s hot enough to grill those waffles on the sidewalk.”

“Mmm-hmm. You are definitely not thirteen anymore. You want me to kick my wife out so you can be the one to resist my charms every night, Miss Dennie?”

Dennie shook her head. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Andre.”

“Oh, I am ashamed of m’self, ladies. But you can still come on over to my place anytime you want.” He winked at them and ambled off to get their teas.

Dennie chuckled. “He always has to try.”

“At this point I’d kind of be insulted if he didn’t. God, I’m starving. I need waffles!”

“You’re sassy today, missy.”

“Am I?” She looked at Dennie, who just sat there with her brows arched, waiting for Summer to tell her what was up with her. “Okay, I guess I am. And I know I’m beaming like a little girl with a new kitten.”

Dennie cleared her throat and muttered, “Your words, not mine.”

Summer shook her head. “I know. I know! I’m being ridiculous. You’d think I was sixteen again, only this time Jamie didn’t turn me away. I’ve actually got butterflies. Me, of all people.”

Dennie’s expression softened, and she reached over to cover Summer’s hand with hers. “Come on, hon. We’ve both always known the only man who would cause you butterflies was Jamie Stewart-Greer. And about time, too.”

“I’d just about given up on him. Well, I had. God, men are stupid.”

“They certainly are. So, how are you feeling about everything? Because I’ve known you practically our entire lives and I can tell there’s something going on behind that blissful smile.”

“I was sorta pretending there was nothing but the butterflies,” Summer said, her shoulders slouching.

“I’m sorry, Summer. Do you want to just keep pretending? I didn’t mean to bring you down.”

“No, I guess not.” She bit her lip. “No. That’s probably why I asked to get together today—not that I didn’t want to see you, of course, but I knew you’d call me on my shit, and I need it.”

Dennie looped an arm around her shoulder. “You just tell ol’ mama Den what’s bothering you, honeypie.”

Andre dropped off their teas and Summer paused to sip hers before taking a long breath and blowing it out slowly. “This whole thing is just sort of a mind-fuck for me. It’s pretty damn scary to have my fondest dreams handed to me on a silver platter.”

“What are you afraid of?” Dennie asked gently.

“That it’ll end up in some awful mess.”

“Because?”

Summer wiped the droplets off her ice tea glass with her thumb, keeping her gaze on the cool amber liquid. “Because that’s how things always go. My whole life.”

Dennie gave her a small shake. “Summer, my darlin’ friend, you listen to me. You do not deserve to lose out on this, you hear me?”

“What makes you think—”

“Because I know you, that’s why,” Dennie interrupted. “I know your fatalistic attitude. I know that’s why you’ve never let yourself connect with any man—that and your feelings for Jamie holding you back. But—and forgive me, but I’m going to be hard-ass honest with you right now—I also think maybe the reason you stopped pursuing Jamie was because you knew on some level that you’d both reached a point in your lives where he’d stop turning you away.”

Summer’s stomach went tight at her friend’s words. “Wow. You really know how to not hold back.”

“You know it’s because I love you, right? And because I think you have a few demons to face if things are going to work out with Jamie. I don’t want to see you keep getting in your own way.”

Summer nodded, taking a few moments to absorb it all. “You’re right. God, you’re right. I think maybe I’ve been getting in my own way my whole life, and not just with Jamie, or even just with men, but everything. Until recently, I never even allowed myself to get too close to any of my friends, other than you. I didn’t realize it until I started to really bond with Allie when she got back from Europe, and then with Rosie. It’s something I’ve been thinking about lately. It’s hard for me to get close to anyone, but I think I’m learning. I’m trying. And maybe it had to start with my female friends before I could get close to a man. To Jamie. I’m not sure I’m completely ready for that. I don’t know . . . I just don’t know if I can do it.”

“You have trust issues, honey, and I don’t blame you. But maybe it’s time to try to let that go.”

Summer’s eyes were pooling with tears. She sniffed, blinking as she squeezed Dennie’s hand. “Thanks for not pulling any punches. I needed the hard talk. You’re the only one I’d be able to hear it from. You’re the only one who would even know.”

“Except maybe Jamie,” Dennie suggested.

She nodded. “Yeah. Except for Jamie.”

Andre stopped in front of their spot at the counter with his notepad. “What are you two beautiful ladies going to have?”

They ordered, and after a bit more flirting Andre turned to get their food on the grill.

“You okay?” Dennie asked.

“Hmm? Yeah. Just thinking about what I need to do. What I need to tell him.”

“What haven’t you told him, honey?”

She turned to Dennie, her heart beating a thousand miles an hour. “I need to tell him that . . . I need to tell him I’m in love with him.”

*   *   *

JAMIE PEERED AT the computer screen on his desk at the shop, poring over figures for the build-out on the space next door where he and his cousin—who was due any minute—would open the motorcycle division of SGR Motors. He was excited about both things—seeing Duff for the first time in a few years and expanding the business. But Summer Grace was on his mind no matter what he tried to distract himself with.