Chapter 11

Cain was asleep in my bed. He was breathing steadily, a little sigh escaping his mouth with each breath. The fluffy white duvet was only covering one leg. He had kicked it off the other one closest to the edge of the bed. The room was dark but with the drapes open to the balcony still I could see the vast majority of his naked body.

It occurred to me that if anyone had been night sailing they could have seen into this room. The nightstand lamp had been on when he had returned and first put me on all fours, then had flipped me and taken me in a way I had never specifically visualized. I didn’t think that position would work with a shorter man. It was his height that had forced him to haul my legs up so straight. Amazingly, it had worked.

Everything he did worked.

Wide awake, I studied him, unnerved by his presence here on the flip side of three in the morning. I hadn’t slept yet at all. It seemed my ability to self-soothe also depended on being alone in my bed. Having sex with him in it was one thing, but sleeping? It eluded me. I could feel every shift and turn he made. Every sigh. Every tug of the sheet. Every time he brushed against me I wanted to leap up and line a row of pillows between us.

Yet, I didn’t want him to leave.

I was lying on my side, just watching him, a yawn overtaking me occasionally. I had climbed out of bed and put on cotton shorts and a T-shirt, in hopes my standard dress would bring sleep sooner. It wasn’t working.

Cain rolled toward me. His eyes opened slightly. “Sophie,” he murmured.

“Yes?” Had I somehow woken him up? Maybe he had never been sleeping.

“Stop staring at me. I can feel your eyes on me.” He reached out and tapped my nose. “You’re cute but you need to chill.”

“I can’t sleep.” I was too out of my routine. My body was tired and sore but my mind wouldn’t quit racing. I was aware of the fact that I had given another first to Cain. I had never spent the night with a guy. Though if I didn’t close my eyes, I might not tonight either. He might just get up and go home.

“Come here.” He pulled me up against him, his hand on my ass. He gave my forehead a soft kiss.

I was worried this intimacy, physical closeness, would actually make my insomnia worse. But then he started to hum. It wasn’t even a song I recognized, but it gave me a focus. His eyes were closed, and mine followed suit, drifting shut. I steadied my breathing, and found the rhythm of his voice, the vibration rolling over me. It drowned out everything else, my thoughts, my questions. Then he was singing, something about lost souls, but it didn’t matter. His whiskey-smooth, or maybe whiskey-soaked, voice was relaxing. Soothing.

When I woke up it was still dark out, but his hand was still on my hip. My face close to his. I jerked back, shocked I had slept at all. Rolling onto my back, I sucked in a breath of air that hadn’t been expelled by him, and grappled for my phone. Five twenty. Over two hours sleeping in his arms. That was amazing.

Cain didn’t even stir. He looked deep down in a sleep brought about by hard day labor, drinking, and lots of sex. But even as I was debating getting up to use the bathroom his alarm blared. It startled the shit out of me but he didn’t jerk. He just rolled, his arm shot out, and he swiped it off. Then his eyes popped open and he stretched.

“Got to go to work, baby.” He hauled himself up into a sitting position, sighing heavily.

“Are you serious?” It wasn’t even 6 a.m. and we had been up forever. Plus, he had drunk a large amount of who knew what. “I had no idea you had to work. We shouldn’t have stayed up so late. You shouldn’t have drunk.”

I didn’t mean that as a judgment, more as a concern for the horrible day that lay ahead of him. I was horrified that I might have contributed to his misery.

Cain gave me a look. “You know, my father can be a total idiot but the one good piece of advice he gave me was that it doesn’t matter what you do the night before, just get your ass to work. That’s advice I have always lived by. Because of it I’ve never been fired from a job.”

I was pretty sure I was not that tough. “That’s an admirable quality. Though I feel guilty I kept you up late.” I propped myself up on my elbow.

But Cain just smiled. “No regrets here.” He stood up and scratched his shadow of a beard. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.”

On his way around the bed, he reached out and squeezed my shoulder. Then he pulled on his jeans and T-shirt and he was gone, closing my door behind him.

I lay there awake now, wondering about him. About his tenacity. A lot of people would perceive his drinking as weakness, and it was definitely an escape. A coping mechanism. But there was something tenacious about Cain that appealed to me. He was actually determined to hold on to his anger.

Maybe because he was afraid if he let that go he would drown in sorrow.

But I was not one to read people with any ease so I didn’t presume to know the truth of what was in Cain’s head.

My phone rang, startling me out of my thoughts. It was my mother. I sighed and answered, knowing she would just call back. “Hello? Mom, it’s five thirty in the morning here. I’m asleep.”

“You don’t sound asleep. I’m sorry, It’s six hours ahead here in France. We’re about to catch our flight and I can’t get in touch with Bella. She’s not answering her phone.”

I yawned, rolling my eyes at the ceiling. “She’s sleeping, I’m sure. The sun hasn’t even risen yet.”

“Or she was up late. I got a phone call from security and they said there was a man in our kitchen. In his underwear. With Bella.” Her voice was shaking with outrage. “If that girl is having an affair a week before her wedding I will disown her.”

I was more amused than I should be. I had forgotten about the security cameras in the common areas of the house. Fortunately, they didn’t extend to the bedrooms. “No one under forty has an ‘affair.’ I’d just like to point that out first. Second of all, Bella would never do that. You know that. He was here with me. He’s my…” I searched for an appropriate term. “Friend.”

“Oh, thank God.” My mother expelled a huge sigh of relief. “I can’t have anything go wrong before this wedding.”

“Seriously, you know Bella better than that.” My sister would never cheat on Bradley. It was not the way she was wired. She was definitely not our father’s daughter.

“You’re right. You’re right.” She took a deep breath. “Wait a minute. Sophie Jane, why did you have a man in his underwear in the house in the middle of the night?”

I was wondering when she would catch on to that. “We were hanging out.” This would only be more awkward if he was still in bed beside me.

“Is this that tour guide you were talking about?”

I sat up. There was no falling back asleep after this. “Where did you get tour guide from? He’s a lobster fisherman.”

“I don’t care what he is. Just don’t get attached.”

“I thought you always wanted me to spend less time studying and more time dating. Only no nerds. That was always also your rule—no nerds.” It had always been a tremendous mystery to me how my mother thought her quirky genius daughter with a literal approach to life was supposed to date anyone other than a nerd. “So no nerds. No lobster fishermen. Anyone else I should scratch off the list?”

She sighed. The deep sigh where she was debating if she should mention how much like my father I am. “I don’t know why you have to argue with me.”

“I’m not arguing with you. I’m just establishing your elusive parameters.”

“I have to go,” she said crankily. “Just stop bringing strange men into the house. I have to explain this to your father now and he’s going to be devastated.”

I highly doubted my dad would be devastated to know that his nearly twenty-five-year-old daughter had a sex life. I think up to this point he had been a little concerned that I did not. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a safe flight.” Because there wasn’t anything else she wanted me to say.

She gave me a begrudging goodbye and ended the call.

I had a text from Cain.

Hi.

With a kiss emoji.

My cheeks flushed. I didn’t know how to respond. Did I kiss back? Did I just say hi? Did I tell him I had fun? I actually debated waking my sister up to ask her what the hell I should type but I figured she would strangle me for ruining her beauty sleep when Bradley was due to arrive the next day.

But I was saved from my flirt dilemma by him sending another text.

You busy around five? Meet me at the dock.

For what?

Then I added: I’m not busy.

I can show you how we trap lobster. Since you didn’t think it was real.

That made me smile.

Sounds educational. I’ll be there.

But I whispered out loud, “This isn’t smart, Sophie. Not smart at all.”

---

I spent the whole fucking day thinking about Sophie. To the point that I barely spoke and Liam actually commented on it.

“Dude, are you okay? You’re not swearing or bitching at all today.”

I was known for that. It was my special fun personality. I glanced over at him and smirked. “Aw, you miss me. That’s so fucking sweet.”

He made a face. “Sorry I mentioned it. Go back to keeping your pie hole shut.”

We were stacking traps but I was straining to see the docks. I was tired, my muscles aching from lousy sleep and a hard day’s work, but it didn’t bother me. I liked it that my body reminded me that I wasn’t numb. Or dead. That I was alive and kicking despite the abuse I subjected myself to.

And today I wanted to be alive because today I was going to see Sophie.

I could admit that to myself.

She made me forget all the shit that dragged me down.

Which was why I found myself fighting a grin when I saw her walking down the dock and pausing to look around. I knew it was her. I would recognize that body anywhere. Her hair was whipping around in the breeze and she raised her hand to her forehead to scan the bay. I waved. She waved back.

“Who is that?” Liam asked, far too much interest in his voice for my taste.

Liam was a gossip. But while I had no intention of explaining myself, I realized I couldn’t care less about what he spread around town. This wasn’t like talk about Camp. This wasn’t me looking like a complete idiot. This was normal stuff. Seeing a girl stuff. I decided I liked this stuff. For today.

“She’s a friend.”

Liam grunted as he lost his grip on a trap. “Like a friend you play poker with or a friend you play strip poker with?”

“None of your business.”

“That tells me everything I need to know.” Liam sounded smug.

I didn’t care. As the captain brought us in to dock, I blew off my duties and jumped off the boat. “Hey,” I said to Sophie. “You found me.”

“I asked around,” she said, sticking her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “You seem to be notorious. Everyone knows who you are.”

Everyone knew who all the Jordans were. “That’s because I’m fucking awesome.”

Sophie appeared to have one outfit. Jeans with a different T-shirt daily. The glory of that tight black dress had most likely been her sister’s idea. The eyelashes had been, for sure. This T-shirt was pale gray and was actually a little see-through, which I approved of, and I didn’t mind her casual wardrobe. It fit her. Her mind was too preoccupied with other things to have room for fashion.

It had been hard to crawl out of bed that morning and leave her behind. I knew she hadn’t slept well but I was glad she hadn’t booted me out of her bed right after I pulled out. Which I had been half expecting. She had been awake when I fell asleep and awake when I woke up. While I felt guilty about that, I also kind of liked it. Seeing her intense gaze on me as soon as I dragged myself out of a drunken slumber. It amazed me that she didn’t seem to care about my drinking. She never gave me a sidelong look of disdain or worry.

There had been a lot of women who had tried to offer me advice. To suggest that I drink less. Or settle down with them, because the love of a sweet girl would obviously fix all my nasty shit and dirty habits and lack of fucks to give. But what they never understood was that I had once thought I’d had the love of a sweet girl and she had turned out to be an accomplished liar with a dark need for hurting me the deepest way possible. Sweet girls were good for sucking my dick and nothing more. It was all superficial, all a bunch of bullshit. All words and winks and selfish manipulation.

What it meant when someone wanted to change you was that they wanted you to become more of what served them best.

Maybe that was the beauty of dating a genius. Sophie was smart enough to know you can’t change another person.

“You look hungover,” she said.

Trust Sophie to keep it real. “I am hungover a little. But mostly I’m tired because I couldn’t sleep with a certain mathematician hottie staring at me all night.”

Her cheeks got a tinge of color. “It wasn’t all night.”

“Who’s your friend?” Liam asked, his voice nosy and booming. I decided the crew and I needed to chip in and get the guy a hooker. He had too much free time on his hands.

I turned and gave him a dirty look. “This is Sophie.” I turned back and rolled my eyes at her. “This is Liam, the guy without a girlfriend, for obvious reasons.”

“Fuck off, Jordan,” Liam said. Then he smiled at Sophie. “Nice to meet you.” He clapped me on the back, hard. “See you on Monday.”

“Yeah. Have a good weekend, man.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Sophie said, though she wasn’t even really looking at Liam. She was looking at me.

It felt amazing and powerful. I had this girl’s attention. Fully. She wanted me. Not just to have her own ego stroked. But because I made her feel good physically. Which, yeah, I was proud of that.

Peeling my work gloves off, I reached out and touched the ends of her hair, flipping them up. “I’d kiss you but I don’t want to embarrass you.”

Sophie gave me a curious look. “Why would that embarrass me?”

“You just said I’m notorious. You probably don’t want to associate yourself with the town fuckup.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I realized it sounded like I was fishing. I wasn’t. I was just speaking truth.

“How are you the town fuckup?” she asked. “You aren’t the one who cheated and it seems like you show up for work every day. You pay your rent and your bar tab. Nothing you do is illegal, that I’m aware of. Your biggest vice is your drinking, obviously, but you still appear to be functioning to me.”

If Sophie wore glasses she would have pushed them up on her nose right then. But she didn’t and her words just hung in the air between us. Damn, the girl just cut through all the bullshit and said it like it was. Maybe another dude would be offended by her comment about the drinking but overall I felt like she was giving me a huge-ass compliment. She was saying in the grand scheme of people fucking up, I was not the worst.

There wasn’t a whole lot I could or wanted to say to that though. I didn’t want to talk about feelings or shit or why I did what I did or say thanks for acknowledging I did, in fact, pay my rent, thank you very much. Instead, I just figured this was her very lengthy way of saying that I could kiss her in public.

So I did.

I leaned down and took her mouth, my hand sliding up her cheek. Her skin was soft, her lips smooth and warm. She sighed into me and I closed my eyes briefly, wanting to capture that sound, remember it forever. Funny how I had thought originally that in the distant future it would be Sophie who would remember me, the guy who was her first, and yet I had a feeling it was going to be me, who would be sitting in a dark bar, nursing a drink, remembering the girl who had blinked at me with owl eyes and spoke truth.

“Come here,” I said as I pulled away. “You need to see a lobster boat.” I took her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together.

Liam was still loitering, pretending to be tying his boot. I frowned at him and he gave me a look of “What the fuck” as his eyes dropped down to where mine and Sophie’s hands clasped.

Whatever. He could mind his own damn business.

I could hold hands. I could have a friend. That’s what Sophie was becoming. A friend. So fuck him.

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

Liam put his hands up. “Nothing, geez. Where the hell am I supposed to look?” He stood up and turned toward Sophie. “If you need rescuing from this idiot just let me know.”

But Sophie being Sophie didn’t precisely pick up on the guy banter. She just said, “I find it very curious that you’re the third man to suggest that I could do better than Cain but you profess to be his friends. Isn’t that a little bit insulting to both him and me? You’re assuming I am not intelligent enough to make good choices when faced with a penis, and that he is going to treat me poorly.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “She told you, Liam.”

Liam wasn’t a dick like Christian. He actually looked mortified. “I wasn’t saying…”

But he didn’t seem to know what to say beyond that so he just shook his head and said, “See you Monday, Jordan.” Then he all but ran down the dock.

“Did I offend him?” Sophie asked.

She didn’t fool me. “You know you scared him. You also know exactly what you’re doing. I don’t buy your ‘I don’t pick up on social cues’ crap.”

For a second I thought she was going to protest. Then she just gave me a sly smile. “Maybe.”

That made me laugh. “I think I’ve got you figured out.”

When we got to the boat my captain, John, gave me a look similar to the one Liam had. Apparently, no one expected me to be walking around in daylight with a girl. Everyone was eyeing us with the wonder usually reserved for a total eclipse of the sun.

“Who’s this?” John asked, trying to sound casual and not to grin. He failed at both.

“This is Sophie. She thinks lobster are grown on a farm and shipped to restaurants so I thought I would show her reality.”

“I do not!” Sophie said. “I just said I thought it was a commercial venture.”

“Unless you consider a guy with a ton of debt a commercial venture I would say you’re a little off base. But come on board and Cain can show you around.”

John was in his early fifties, fit from years of hauling traps, and a decent guy. He demanded a lot from his crew, but he was also fair. “John let me apprentice under him and I’ve been with him ever since,” I told Sophie. “You can’t own or captain a boat if you don’t have a license, and you need someone licensed to apprentice you.”

“Cain may not look pretty but he gets the job done,” John said.

I stepped onto the boat, still in my waders. Sophie stood on the dock, eyeing me with horror. She was actually swallowing hard.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’m feeling an irrational sense of fear of flotsam.”

John laughed then said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. I’ve just never heard anyone put it quite like that.”

“You don’t have to,” I told her. “It’s okay.” I was disappointed, though I wasn’t sure why. But I felt like I wanted to share my life with Sophie. Not share my life as in be with her, but show her I wasn’t just the guy sitting on a barstool.

“No, it’s fine.” She took a deep breath and held her hand out to me.

I took her small hand in my callused one and helped her onto the boat. “Don’t worry, there are no actual lobster on board right now. We off-loaded them at the floating market. So nothing is going to run up and pinch you.”

“Now I’m just disappointed,” she said, complete deadpan.

John laughed. So did I.

And fucking fuck, there it was. A sense of pride that Sophie was with me. Pleasure that she wasn’t just some ordinary girl who simpered and squealed and faked fear. She was different and she was mine.

I watched her curiously glance around, taking in everything in her view.

Her ass looked adorable in those jeans and I had a sudden urge to reach over and smack it. I didn’t, but it took some serious self-control.

Something happened in my chest that made me want a drink. It was a big fist reaching in and squeezing my heart and it almost dropped me.

I realized that Sophie, with her logic and her no-bullshit style, had taken a crowbar and pried open the locked vault to my feelings. Just a crack at first, but now she was pushing, and it was yawning open with a rusty growl.

And I was okay with that.