Tattooed Hearts (20 page)

“Ready for our shopping
spree?” she aske
d, sliding a hand through the crook
of Keely’s arm.

Another good thing from
being on the island for the last month, she met with her friends almost every
day. First thing this morning she had sent a text to Keely suggesting a
shopping trip to Boston and h
ad been delighted when
her friend had quickly agreed.

Keely laughed. “Are we
really going to spend the whole time shopping for Lily and Adam’s baby? No
offense, but...”

Claire laughed. “Since
there’s no baby shower, we have to spoil the little bundle.
Any
accidental slip on the baby’s
gender?”

“Nope.
They claim they don’t
know.” She ran her hands over her coat. “This winter has been brutal.”

“True.”

Keely laughed. “Between
Adam’s parents and Lily’s the baby is already spoiled rotten.”

Claire laughed as
they made their way in the ferry. Funny, the weather hadn’t
bothered her as much as she convinced herself in the past. “Better for us, we
have carte blanche to buy whatever we want.”

“Minka did speak to Lily
and Adam’s parents,” Keely said, “In the spring,
after the baby is
born,
we are throwing them a
big party. Everyone is coming.”

“Including her brothers?”

“I think so. I know Max
confirmed. We have to check with Minka.”

“That only means another
battle of testosterone between the Serrano brothers and the
wolf pack.”

Keely snickered. “It was
good visual.”

They walked up the ferry’s
deck. Turning her back to the water, Claire breathed in the cool crisp air and
let the wind blow her ebony hair away from her face.
“Oh, yes, the football game.”
They
both sighed
, looked at each other and
burst into laughter.

“Any
progress with Forrest?”

Claire thought of the late
night conversation. Although Forrest hadn’t taken the bait, it had been
friendly enough. “He wants to put us in the friend zone.”

Keely wrinkled her nos
e at the thought.
“Men.”

Claire couldn’t help but
chuckle.
“But then he texted me
late last night.”

Keely arched a brow,
clearly intrigued. “Like a booty call. Did you go?”

“Not a booty call, much to
my disappointment. He needed a friend to talk to.”

“Poor
guy.
He’s going through a lot.”

“He saw his mother for the
first time yesterday.”

“That’s progress.”

Claire nodded in
agreement.
“During our little
sexting or texting.”
She shrugged. “He also told me if I had
been there with him, we’d have had sex.”

“Not
very friend-like.”
 

“Tell me about it. So of
course I pushed and flirted a little. He shut down immediately. And then he
called and we almost had phone sex.”

“No fucking way!” Ripples
of laughter passed between them again.

“He didn’t take the bait,”
Claire
added, still a tad disappointed over Forrest’s
lack of response. “But I could tell he was considering it.”

“He still loves
you.” 

“Maybe.”
Leaning on the rail, she
focused on the slow waves of the ocean
. “But he doesn’t want to go there with
me anymore.”

“You told him everything.
So give it some time.”

She had no other choice.

Three hours later, Keely
and Claire’s arms were filled with shopping bags and they were starving. Arms
linked, they walked along a narrow cobblestone with houses built in the late
1820s to a trendy Vietnamese restaurant.

After a slight hesitation
from recognizing Claire, the maître d’ led them to a table. As they sat down,
Claire’s phone dinged, announcing an incoming message. Knowing she hadn’t
responded to any of James’ emails fro
m this morning,
she yanked the phone out of her purse and was surprised to see Forrest’s name.

“Everything
okay?”
Keely asked across the table.

“It’s Forrest.” She
studied the text.

A selfie as you requested. Thanks for the company last night and
hope you slept well.

The picture seemed to have
been taken earlier in the day. He was outside standing by one of the Herring
Creek Farm delivery trucks.
A few
days old stubble, glasses, Baltic Sea color shirt under a heavy full-zipped
sweater.
His short,
dark wav
es casually blown from the cool morning
breeze into a sexy mess.
Something about the
candid shot set her heart racing almost too fast. Claire blamed her reaction on
the ruggedness.
Major hotness.

“I asked him for a picture
last night. He ignored me but he
just sent one,” she
said to Keely.

“Oh.” Keely smiled. “I
hope there’s a sexy text along with it.”

“Not really.” She read the
text to her friend. 
“Very
controlled.
Very Forrest.”

“Well, I’m going to make a
phone call. Why don’t you do a little sexting whil
e
I’m
gone.
”

“Should I order you a
drink?”

“Water is enough for now.
Be right back.”

After ordering a glass of
wine for herself and water for Keely, she picked up the phone, started to
compose a text then decided to call Forrest instead. He answered on the
second ring. At the sound of his voice, butterflies
fluttered crazy low in her belly.

“
Thanks for the pic. You’re a hottie. By
the way, I slept great.
You?”

He chuckled, clearly
amused by her comment.
So sexy.

“No to the word hottie and
I’m glad you slept
well. I won’t ask,” he said
smoothly. 
The baritone of his
voice reverberating through her bones.

Too bad.
She wanted to play again.
“Not even a bit curious?”

He made a low noise in his
throat,
then
said,
“
I’m a man, so naturally I’m curious.”

Heat coursed
through her body and settled in that spot between her
thighs.

“Where are you, Claire?”

She blinked, shifted in
her seat and cleared her throat.
“In
Boston, having lunch with Keely.
We spent the day
shopping.
You?”

“In my
office staring at my computer scre
en and talking to
you.”

Her immediate reaction was
to ask him if he’d been thinking of her as much as she’d been of him, but
decided against the direct approach and tried another tactic. “Are you going to
the farm later?”

“No.”

“Dinner?” she asked and
held
her breath.

“
How’s six o’clock?”

A wide grin settled on
Claire’s lips. Her heartbeat raged out of control, wanting out of her chest.
She held back the urge to jump up and do the happy dance–only because she was
in public. Thank goodness for that.
“Your
pl
ace?”

“No.”

Oh well, she tried. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“Remind me.”

“Friends,” he said in a
tight voice. “We’re working on that.”

“Friends visit each
other.”

“True, but we’re not there
yet.”

A ball of ice formed on
her chest over the thought of ever being just
friends
with Forrest.

“Do you mind getting off
the island again?” he continued. “I know a spot.”

For
Forrest,
anything
.
“I’ll meet you by Shanty
at six and we can ferry over.”

“See you t
hen.”

“It’s a date,” she said
with a heavy heart.

She was still looking at
her phone when Keely returned. The waiter quickly approached their table and
took their order of Pho and Cha Ca. Claire dropped the phone in her purse and
focused her attention on h
er friend. “You look sad
again.”

Keely shrugged, right
before her shoulders slumped. “That was my obstetrician.”

Claire held her breath.
Well aware her friend had been trying to get pregnant for some time now.

“She wants to run some
tests,” Keely continued
. “I’m tired of this pregnancy
business. I need a break.”

“It will happen.”

“As of today, I’m not
thinking about it anymore. I need wine.” Keely
laughed,
no evidence of tension in her voice.
“So what did our favorite doctor have to say?”

“We’re going out t
o dinner tonight.”

Across the table, Keely
examined her. “So why don’t you look happy?”

“He was all logic with
that infernal, typical Forrest cool detachment.” She wrinkled her nose. “He’s
really trying to put us in the friend zone. Forrest and I have neve
r been friends. I’ve always been in love with him.”

Keely sat back and took a
gulp of her water. “You’re a sexy superstar. Men jerk off to the idea of you.”

Claire groaned. That image
wasn’t actually an ego-booster. “Not your greatest compliment.”

“Sorry.
But you have a date with Forrest that he initiated.”

“Technically, I
initiated.”

“Whatever.” Keely
dismissed her rebuttal with a dainty wave. “The way I see it, he can’t stay
away. He’s fighting the love, but losing the battle with the lust part. I say
let’s go buy you something sexy for tonight.”

Her friend had a point.
Love and lust were identical twins, similar on the outside and often mistaken
for one another. But having experienced both, Claire knew on the inside, there
was a world of difference bet
ween the two. She let
out a breath. “I could use a nice, sexy outfit.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Half of my heart takes time.”

John Mayer –
Half of My Heart

For the second time,
Claire stepped off the ferry. This time the light of day had slipped away, and
a
thin mist oozed across the pink-and-gold sky. She
was on her way to dinner with the love of her life in Woods Hole,
the strolling village in Falmouth.

“Here, hold on to me.”
Forrest extended his arm as they stepped into a patch of snow.

Without a word, sh
e slipped a hand in the crook of his arm. They walked off
the harbor in close silence. Similar to life on the Vineyard in the winter, the
town was embraced by quiet calmness. Even the rumble of traffic was absent.
Unlike the many occasions in the last deca
de she'd
been around Forrest, tonight the silence between them was comfortable, down to
their footfalls clip-clopping in a rhythmic echo on the street.

“This is a new
restaurant,” he informed her, “Like the Wharf’s Side; it’s a part of the farm
to table mo
vement. Everything is sourced from local
farms and fishermen.”

“Do they work with Herring
Creek?”

He nodded.
“As a matter of fact, yes.
I was here earlier
delivering pies.”

Claire smiled, envisioning
Forrest on the farm’s truck, making the morning’s delive
ry. “I’m glad you and your mom are working together.” She felt him
stiffen. Once again, her heart twisted in pain for him and the complete
disorder and confusion
his life had become.

“I came alone,” he said,
his voice emotionless. “After that I went to the
hospital to process Mrs. Kane’s release forms, then my office.”

“You had a long day.”

“It wasn’t too bad. Saw a
few patients, nothing too heavy.” He shrugged. “It gets a little crazy in the
summer,
otherwise, my workload is
pretty manageable.”

They ambled
through the streets, the ambience comfortable, relaxed.
There was something very natural with them like this, arms linked and walking
side by side on a date.
As friends
, her conscience interjected for the
hundredth time.

Two friends having dinner.
Nothing
more
.

Just because they were of
the opposite sex and had crazy animal sex less
recently
meant nothing. They were
friends.
Longtime friends, who were
once lovers.
Briefly.
That logical side of her
brain pointed out. She had a shot at his heart and blew it.
No need for the butterflies nesting in her stomach to
start flapping their wings. No need to look forward to the goodnight kiss, and
all the things that might come after.

Which
meant there was no need for that beautiful, off the shoulder, ruffled chambray
dress under her coat.
Definitely no need for
the lacy matching underwear or the ungodly amount of time she spent on her
hair.
A total waste of time.
She’d looked in the
mirror at her sexed-up hair. A full-bodied mess that said
take
me—
up against the count
er, in the women’s bathroom, and again on the ride back to
my place.
Totally not a friend-zone
hairdo.
So she’d flattened the tangled curls
into a wispy ponytail.
Safe and
pragmatic friend hair.
Nothing sexy or
super-
starrish
.

As for the four-inch,
stunnin
g, knee-length leather boots. Well, it was
cold and at five-feet four inches tall, the additional height came in handy
standing next to Forrest. At six feet three inches tall, he towered over her.
The disparity in their height was almost laughable and sexy
.
Tall, rugged
doctor-farmer next to her small, petite frame.
The dapper gentleman
whether in a tailored suit or in jeans, a shirt and leather jacket as he was
now.

Yeah, definitely a turn-on
for her in that
I’m big and strong and I
protect you
kind of way
.

She nestled a little
closer, latching on to his muscular forearm as they walked off the harbor to
their dining destination. Not that she needed his support
.
A
side
from a few snow patches,
the roads were manageable, and the restaurant was right across the
street. But then his bicep flexed under the black leather
jacket, and she couldn’t help but tighten her grip.

Friend zone.
She was reminded for the hundredth and one time.

Right.

With an imaginary flick of
her middle finger, she told her conscience to shu
t
the fuck up and grabbed tighter onto Forrest’s arm on the chilly evening. She
didn’t pull away from his warmth until they entered the bright, nautical
setting restaurant, a short stone’s throw from the Steamship Authority Ferry
Terminal with views of the
ocean and ferry. Within
seconds they were greeted by a young, attractive couple.

“Miss Peters, what an
honor!” The pretty brunette beamed. “I’m Valerie and this is my husband,
Richard.” She smiled at her husband. “I’ll take your coat and Richard will take
you to your table.”

Forrest helped her out of
her coat before slipping out of his hip-length burnished black leather jacket.
He removed the wool beanie and slid his fingers through his hair. Her heart
went pitter-patter in her chest at the simple gesture.
So very sexy.
In dark jeans and slim
fitted tattersall indigo shirt, he looked more like a fashion model than a
doctor.

“When you told us you were
coming for dinner, Forrest, we reserved the best table,” Richard said with a
smile after their coats were hu
ng. “Please follow
me.”

Forrest reached for her
hand, clasping it as he led her through the restaurant. Claire took in the
layout of the tavern. The front half was seating for the café, with a relaxed,
open feel, perfect for reading and spending time watch
ing
the boats sail by. As they walked toward the dining room, they drew a few
glances, but no one seemed to care the famous Claire Peters was dining at a
local tavern. If anything, it was Forrest the women’s gazes lingered on a
little too long. For as long
as she’d known him, he
seemed oblivious to the attention channeled his way. The dining room, decorated
with simple elegance, gave a relaxed ambience with lighting perfect for a
candlelight dinner. While the tables were close, wine crate stacks helped to k
eep a little privacy. Richard led them to table by the
window with a stunning view of the ocean and sunset.

“I’m impressed, Dr.
Desvareaux,” Claire said once they were alone.
“Great view.”

“Great
menu too.”

“Do you come here
often?” She tried to make her t
one as
indifferent as possible, but a poker face she’d never had.
The idea of Forrest here on a date with another woman,
laughing, talking.
Ugh!

Friends,
her conscience whispered.

“I’ve eaten here a few
times since they opened.”

Her stomach flopped.

“But n
ot the way you’re thinking,” he continued. “I’m usually at
the bar.”

Bounded on a spree of
sheer relief, she asked, “To what do I owe this honor then?”

“What do you mean?”

Claire turned her
attention to the pinkish-orange hue casting over the sea, reflecti
ng off the ocean waves rolling in slush due to the frigid
winter, then back to Forrest. His eyes were on her and very serious, waiting
for her to answer his question. She licked her lips, a nervous gesture. “I
know this isn’t a date.”

He sat back and conti
nued to watch her, looking calm and relaxed while she was
squirming inside. Claire touched one of her ears. His eyes followed her
movement then back to her face. Shit! She was beyond nervous.

The waiter came just in
time to take their drink order. After Fo
rrest ordered
a bottle of wine, and they were alone once again, he said, “You were saying
this isn’t a date.”

His eyes met hers once
more. Claire absently brushed at the ruffles of her dress. It was hard to
maintain that stare. The blue in his graphite eye
s
were sharp and seemed to have the ability to cut through her.

“Is it?” she asked, not
quite sure how to respond.

He sat back, brows
furrowed. “You look beautiful.”

He didn’t answer the
question, but whatever. He gave her something better, a compliment. Her body
temperature rose, going from slightly chilled to
overheated
.

“Um, thanks,” she mumbled.

He continued to stare at
her. Damn him and his gorgeous eyes. “I need
to ask
you a question.”

“Yes.” She smiled. “While
this is nice, I’d much rather be at your place.”

His lips twitched in
amusement.
Another failed attempt.

“Last night,” he said
quietly, “I helped you sleep.”

Caught off guard, she let
out a surprised laugh.
Good to know her words had
registered. “You’ve been thinking about this.”

“All day,” he admitted and
shrugged. “I’m still a man.”

Oh, she was well aware of
how manly he was. The butterflies in her stomach flipped and started the
Kid-n-Play kick step. Clai
re picked up the menu and
gave it a cursory glance, mostly to torture him a little, but noted the
fritters with four different kinds of what was described as light and zippy
sauce. “Have you had the fritters?”

“They’re delicious.”

“Good. I will have them.”
She placed the menu down and looked straight at him. “By
the way, the answer is yes.”

His brows went up. “Yes?”

“You want me to say it?”

A genuine smile crinkled
the corners of his eyes, making him even more handsome, if that was possible.
“Humor me,” he
said.

She leaned forward, rested
her chin on her palm, elbow on the table, and stared at him. “I touched myself
thinking of you last night.”

He let out a low groan, a
sexy sound that caused that spot between her legs to go damp. Claire squeezed
her thighs
together. “How does that make you feel?”
she asked, all hot and bothered.

 Hooded eyes stayed
on her for a beat, and when he spoke, his voice was low and raspy.
“Tortured.”

“You should explain that
since we are only friends and all.”

He laughed. “It means
that image will be burning in my mind the whole evening.
But at least we got one thing settled.”

“What’s that?”

“Good to know over the
last ten years we’ve thought of each other.”

Her whole body pulled for
him, her blood thrumming through her veins to the
rhythm
of want. “You mean…”

He nodded. “I’m going to
mentally recite the periodic table so I can calm down and we can
go
back to our non-date,
date.”