The Real Thing (Sugar Lake #1)

“I think it’s important to be flexible like that, Willow,” Remi said. “You’re lucky your business allows it.”

Willow shifted in her seat, covering his hand with hers. “To be honest, I’m pretty nervous about it. I mean, it’s really only a twenty-four-hour visit. We’re leaving tomorrow morning and I have to come back Sunday, but before the other night, I’d never even been on a plane.”

Willow and Bridgette exchanged a glance that told Zane they’d discussed the trip in private, and Willow was more nervous than she’d let on.

Remi flipped her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward. “I’ll give you lessons in LA life. It’s not that hard to figure it out.”

Willow smiled at Zane and moved her hand to his thigh, grazing her fingertips along the outline of his rising erection. “Hear that? It’s not that hard.”

Hell yes, he’d heard it. He spread two fingers out on her thigh, keeping track, and lifted his hips to show her just how hard she was making him. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll do everything within my power to make you comfortable, no matter how hard things get.”

Bridgette sighed. “I love how well you take care of her, Zane. But LA is really different. She might be a little overwhelmed.”

The waitress came to take their orders, and they tabled their conversation while they looked over the menu. The tablecloth masked their naughty activities, but while Willow stopped stroking him, he brushed his fingers over her sex. She squeezed her thighs together, glaring at him, but he simply leaned closer and kissed her cheek.

He kept up his relentless tease as they ordered, though Willow’s order came out in breathless spurts.

After ordering, Remi said, “Back to the lessons. First of all, if you see a woman smile and her face moves, she’s not a native. Everyone uses Botox. Guys and girls. I swear, it’s the land of eternal youth.”

Everyone laughed except Zane. Willow had gotten in on the challenge again, bringing him to a full salute beneath the table. In an effort to keep from groaning aloud, he stopped teasing her long enough to trap her hand against his thigh and pull himself together. She giggled and sipped her wine with a gratified expression.

“It’s not that bad,” Aiden interjected. “My sister likes to exaggerate because she prefers the quiet life of Cape Cod and holing up in her cabin outside New York City. But you should probably get used to juicing instead of eating your vegetables.”

“Willow, remember when we tried that juicing diet?” Bridgette said animatedly. “After, I swear, no more than two hours, Willow said it was torture. Just too hard. That nobody in their right mind should ever give up sweets, and then she made, and consumed, a tub of custard.”

Zane pressed a third finger to Willow’s thigh, earning a challenging, sexy smile from his girl.

“I readily admit it.” Willow eyed Zane. “I have a thing for creamy treats.”

He was going to be sporting wood all night if she kept this up.

“Are we going to tell tales?” Aiden shifted a mischievous look to Remi. “Because I know a certain girl who once snuck downstairs at midnight and ate half the birthday cake I had special ordered for her seventh birthday taking place the next day.”

Remi waved her hand. “Guilty as charged.” She laughed and pointed at Aiden. “But how about the first time we went house hunting in Los Angeles? You found that coffee shop, the one that’s no longer there, and every flipping day we had to go there. Three times a day, regardless of how far it was from wherever we were. He was obsessed.”

Aiden winked at Bridgette. “No shame in obsessing over fine coffee or beautiful things.”

“I love good coffee,” Bridgette said a little breathlessly.

“I think Aiden drank it all, and that’s why they had to close. Of course, when it came to him wanting coffee, we drove across town to get it, but when I was alone, he insisted on hiring a driver for me because it would be too hard for me to get through the crazy traffic.” She sighed and patted Aiden’s shoulder. “He was right. I hate driving in LA.”

Willow arched a brow, and Zane tallied up another finger.

“I guess we’re spoiled because Sweetwater is so small and we can walk almost everywhere,” Bridgette added. “Where do you live, Aiden? In LA?”

“I own several homes, but there’s no place I’d call home. For me, wherever family is becomes home for however long I can make it work with my schedule. Which means when Remi’s filming, I try to show up wherever she is. And if she’s between films, I try to spend time wherever she is.”

“I love that you two are so close.” Bridgette’s gaze warmed. “But you don’t have any extended family?”

“No,” Aiden said, shifting a supportive smile to Remi. “We lost our parents a long time ago. There’s just us.”

The serious turn of the conversation brought Zane’s mind out of the gutter. The family he counted on, the one he cherished and would do anything for, wasn’t bound to him by blood. He turned his hand over beneath the table, lacing it with Willow’s, and exchanged a thoughtful glance with Ben. He was thankful for their years of friendship and the family Ben had brought into his life. He leaned over and kissed Willow’s cheek, thankful for her most of all.

“I’m sorry,” Bridgette said to Aiden and Remi. “I know how hard loss can be.”

Zane felt bad counting that particular hard toward his tally, but Willow leaned in closer and whispered, “Ten more.”

Game. On.



DINNER WAS DELICIOUS and conversation came easily, or at least the parts of the conversation Willow could concentrate on. Zane’s fingers had wreaked havoc with her mind. He’d teased her with a featherlight touch, just enough to make her greedy for more. She’d been so focused on him, she’d barely eaten a thing. But she’d heard every single hard that came out of anyone’s mouth. She couldn’t believe how many times the word had come up in normal conversation. Of course, Zane had practically made it a mandatory topic of conversation. Aiden, do you prefer hard or soft cheese? Soft serve or hard? I’m a soft-serve guy. Nothing beats licking the creamy goodness from, well, just about anything. By the time they finished dinner, the word hard had been said eleven times. Eleven! Not that keeping her promise was a hardship, but still, she’d thought it would be more difficult to reach fifteen than he’d made it seem. Then again, she should know better than to underestimate Zane when sex was on the line. The man was insatiable. And she frigging loved it.

Ben rose beside Remi and held out his hand. “Care to show me how to dance?”

“Careful, Remi,” Bridgette warned. “He has two left feet.”

“And I’m not afraid to use them,” Ben said as Remi accepted his offer.

“I haven’t danced in ages,” Aiden said. “Bridgette? What do you say?”