SOME PEOPLE PACE, wearing a path in their carpet. I prefer to do my pacing on the water. The boom swings above me as I come about, tacking into the wind. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve zig-zagged across the bay today.
Ever since Dad and I worked on the Donna Louise over the winter, I’ve been taking her out more often. Erik’s talking about a full gut and modernization sometime soon. So far, we’ve cleaned out the interior and scrubbed the hull, but still need to update the electrical and fix or replace the diesel engine. At least the original engine works . . . some of the time.
At first my sailing skills were rough. I could barely remember how to handle the rigging. The first time I brought her out, I almost got knocked into the water by the boom because I was standing on the deck to adjust some rigging and not below in the cockpit.
On days when I have time, if the wind is strong and the weather clear, I swing by our slip in the Langley Marina. No more hauling a twenty-nine-foot boat on a trailer any time we want to sail. That was some serious pain in my ass bullshit. I’ve spent a few nights on the boat since we put her in the water in April. If I didn’t have the goats, I’d consider living on the boat this summer. Nothing beats being lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the water.
The sail flutters in a lull of wind and I loosen the rigging to glide to a stop near a dock on Honeymoon Bay. After I make sure the bumpers protect the hull from the dock, I loop a quick slip knot around a cleat at the bow. Gently bobbing in the water, the boat won’t drift away while I do my recognizance.
Above the bank I can make out the roof and cedar shingles of Dan’s place. He’s right about the path from the beach up to the house. It’s barely passable with overgrown brambles and huge colonies of nettles. The incline is steep, but the goats won’t mind. I plan out the yardage for the fencing, estimating the perimeter. From the water, I have a better sense of what vegetation I’m dealing with on the property. The invasive plants have taken over the hill and it’s impossible from the high bank or the beach to get a wide perspective of the project.
With Dan and Roslyn away, I’ll set up the pen and move it without disturbing their privacy.
Ashley house sitting has nothing to do with me being here. Okay, only partially. I’m not even sure if she’s on the island today.
I’m not going to hike up to the house and show up unannounced.
It’s been three days since Ashley and I visited the batting cage. Seventy-two hours of torturing myself with doubt while trying to plot my next move. Confusion and resolve are currently battling out inside of my head. I’m discouraged, but not despondent. Yet.
No, I’m not giving up.
Ashley can pretend she’s heartless. And I’ll keep knocking down the walls she’s built and keeps erecting around her heart.
The easiest thing to do would be to have sex. We both want it. No doubt our chemistry has survived the great ice age. Hell, I should buy stock in lube at this point. At least I don’t have to share a bathroom with Erik anymore.
But I don’t want easy and I don’t want to fall back on our old habits of using sex only to scratch an itch. Sexual frustration is obviously making me crazy.
I snap a few photos with my phone and check my calendar. Should be able to get set up this week and have most of it cleared by the time they’re back from Italy.
With a shove against the dock, I drift enough to steer into the wind.
I don’t bother to glance behind me as I sail away from Dan’s. If Ashley wants to see me, she can text. I’m giving her a week to stew and time for me to think up a Plan B.
I’m reading Temple Grandin’s book on livestock, and drinking a Double Bluff porter on the deck when the sound of tires on gravel alerts me to someone driving up the private road to my house. Probably Erik. Maybe Dad. Or Mom. She likes to check in on me now that I’m the solo bachelor son living in the woods alone. I think she worries I’ll go off the grid completely.
My attention wanders back to the page as I finish the pint before setting it on the decking by my feet.
The sound of the engine grows louder and then stops. A familiar but unexpected car parks next to my truck.
After tucking a receipt into the book to mark my place, I lay the paperback next to the empty beer.
The polite thing to do would be to stand and greet my guest. Knowing this, I recline in my chair and fold my hands behind my head.
I don’t get up to greet Ashley. Instead, I wait.
When she opens the door and slides out, exposing miles of pale, sexy, toned muscle beneath short cut-offs, I stare. Hell yeah, I do. She’s always had the legs of a newborn foal or doe. Too long for the rest of her body, her legs are one of my favorite things about her. Especially in the summer when my imagination doesn’t have to work as hard to imagine her completely naked. From behind my sunglasses, I take in every inch of her. Wearing a sheer, flowy top, I can make out the outline of her breasts in the bright sunlight.
“Hello to you, too.” She uses her sarcastic voice as she climbs the steps to the deck.
“Howdy.” I tip my head down and watch her over the top of my sunglasses.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is friendly and casual.
“Reading a book.” I pick up the paperback and wave it at her.
She freezes with her foot hovering above the top step. “What do you mean by book? Dirty magazine?”
“I haven’t looked at a ‘dirty magazine’ since junior high. I get my porn online for free like everyone else in this century.” Yes, I used air quotes on dirty magazine. Sometimes she sounds like her mother, but damn if I’m not smart enough never to say those words out loud.
“Wait, you’re reading non-fiction?” She picks up my book.
“Doing business research.”
She leans over me to read the title on the cover, giving me an accidental peek down her shirt. “You weren’t kidding.”
I snort at the pun. “Well played.”
“The goat jokes are endless.” She’s flirting. I take this as a good sign.
“Unfortunately.” Encouraged she might stay for a while, I pick up my empty glass. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Sure.” She follows me through the back door into the kitchen. After seeing her condo, this place looks more like a dump than ever. I keep it clean—you could eat off these floors and counters—but the wood is water-stained and the floor has seen better years. My furniture is mostly hand-me-downs and cheap stuff I’ve picked up over the years. The only thing I’ve spent money on is the television and my video game consoles. And towels. I can’t stand flat, smelly towels.
“Any reason for the surprise visit?” Inside the dark kitchen, I remove my sunglasses, allowing my eyes to slowly adjust in the dim light.
She hops up on the counter and swings her feet playfully. “I was in the area.”
“It’s an island. Everything’s in the area.”
Swinging her legs like she did as a kid when she was nervous, she completes the picture by rolling her eyes. “It’s Sunday and I have the day off. Decided to take a drive.”
“Funny you ended up here. How’d you even know where I live?”
“Erik. During the whole paparazzi and Gomez obsession last summer after the photos of his ass went viral, I’d come over here sometimes to work with him.”
“You did? He never told me you hung out.” I feel left out.
“We didn’t. It was work. Nothing ever happened between the two of us,” she explains unnecessarily.
“Never thought it did.” Never in my mind would Erik fool around with Ashley. Unless he hated me and even then, I don’t think he’d cross that line knowing who she is to me. Not after years of dealing with my obsession.
“And today?” I open a cupboard and pick up another glass.
“Wanted to see you.” She clears her throat. “You haven’t been by any of the coffee places lately.”
I open the fridge to hide my smile. By the time I pull out the growler, I’m full on grinning. Facing her, I attempt to flatten my expression.
“Shut it, Carter.”
“You missed me.”
“You’re like a rash. I’ve grown so used to your annoying presence, I don’t know what to do with myself now.”
“I’m an itch you want to scratch? Is that what you’re saying?” I smirk.
“Something like that.”
I tilt my head to the side and study her like I’m a predator who wants to eat her for dinner. “You randomly showing up is kind of ruining my entire attempt at taking charge.”
“Of what?” Eagerness colors her words. I’ll have to test her willingness to give up power.
“Our situation.” I flick my gaze up to meet hers.
“Our what?” She baits me.
“You know.” Situation. Relationship. They’re interchangeable. At least to me.
Tilting back until she rests her head on the cupboard, she stares down at me. “For ages you’d stop by my places of work. I thought we were past having to make some sort of formal announcement if we want to see each other. Plus, I saw you in the boat yesterday.”
Busted. “I was there on official business to plan out the clearing project. How did you even see me?”
“I was working on the deck in front of the main house when I spotted the Donna Louise sailing across the bay. Nice you have her back in the water.” She’s being genuine.
“I didn’t see you up there.”
“I thought maybe you missed me and were sailing over to me to make a grand gesture.”
“Really? Go on. Tell me about how you fantasize about me and my large gesture.”
“Stop being fifteen. You’d climb up the hill and say sweet things to me, then whisk me away on the boat.” Apparently, she has a romantic side.
“Like a nautical Romeo? The deck for a balcony?” I don’t bother to hide my cynicism.
“I hate that story. So pointless and annoying,” she grumbles.
“You don’t believe in soul mates and star-crossed lovers?”
“No. I also don’t believe in love at first sight or arranged marriages.”
“Yet you fantasized about me sailing away with you.” I tease her.
“Maybe I really just hate bookkeeping and needed an escape.” She doesn’t give an inch.
“Or you missed me.”
“Or that.” She does the scrunched nose face I love.
“I like it when you’re honest with me.” I finish pouring our drinks and hand her a glass. “We should toast to this.”
She gives me a wicked smile. “To batting cages.”
I lift my eyebrows in question.
“I feel like we’ve crossed an imaginary line between what was and what could be.”
My lips press against hers before I realize I decided to kiss her. Her fingers pull at my T-shirt and slip under the fabric. I groan when I feel the soft scrape of her nails along my abs. Keeping things platonic between us, or at least on first base is impossible. I’m setting myself up for a spectacular failure.
I place my glass next to her hip on the counter and then do the same with hers as I step closer and rest my hands on her knees, gently encouraging her to open them for me.
“Happy to see me?” Her own smile lights up her eyes.
“I am.” I swipe the corner of my mouth with my thumb.
“How happy?” As my fingers trace the outline of her knee cap, she exhales a wobbly breath.
“Thinking about baseball happy.” From my position between her legs, all I’d have to do is shift my angle and she’d know exactly the effect one kiss with her has on my body. It’s always the same. Embarrassing, but I’m not complaining.
“Funny, me too.”
I brush my hands over her hips and under the flowy pink fabric of her top, pausing when I touch her warm, soft skin. “Really?”
She nods and kisses me again, sweeping her tongue into my mouth to meet mine. Her hands on my back drift down to my ass. Something tells me she’s focused on stealing second base.
I’m happy to encourage her. I slide my hands up over her ribs to the swell of her breasts. The lace of her bra contrasts to the softness of her. Squeezing, I moan at the sensation of touching her again.
Dreamt about it.
Hoped.
But never fully trusted I’d be with her again like this.
Her hands pull me against her. A soft hum escapes her mouth as she moves to kiss my cheek. Grinding her hips, there’s no doubt she knows exactly what she does to me. I never want her to stop, but having sex today is a tactical error. We could lose the advances we made since our sleepover. I’m not willing to gamble our future for some afternoon delight.
When I tilt my hips away from her, I curse the loss of contact and her warmth. I sweep her hair off her shoulders and make my way down her neck, leaving a trail of soft, open kisses along the skin of her shoulder.
I don’t want to stop. Not this time. My body chants for more. Locked and loaded, pulsing with tortured need for release.
Plans are for people who can’t be spontaneous, delusional people who think they have some magic ability to predict the future.
We’re not losers. We’re winners. Taking Ashley on the counter in my kitchen right now is the best idea I’ve ever had. She clearly agrees from all the soft moans and gasps she’s making while sucking on my tongue and wrapping her legs around my hips.
Patience is stupid.
Denying orgasms is only hurting ourselves.
I search for the button of her shorts, desperation making my fingers fumble. Maybe I should use my teeth.
“Carter.” She lifts my chin with her finger.
“I swear I’m not normally this bumbling.” Feeling sheepish, I can barely meet her eyes.
“I think you’re right about waiting.”
“Nooo.” This comes out in slow motion. “I wasn’t. I was wrong. Never listen to me.”
Her laughter makes her finger shake. “We should wait.”
“That’s a terrible idea.” I try to kiss her and she blocks me with a finger to my lips.
“Ask me out on a date.”
My head snaps up. “You don’t date.”
“I came over here to ask you to ask me.”
“Why?” I rest the back of my hand on her forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Just fine, thanks. Let’s do it.”
“I’m trying but you stopped me.”
“I mean the dating thing you’re so hung up on. It could be fun.” She tucks her fingers into my front pockets.
This is it. What I’ve been working toward.
Yippee.
Why am I regretting my stupid plan?
How long can I have blue balls before it’s permanent?