I NODDED, EXPOSING my neck to his warm lips.
He let go of the hand behind my back, his fingers biting into my hips instead. My lips were a bare inch from his shoulder. I closed my eyes and just absorbed his nearness, the intensity of the moment building as he nipped a path down my neck to my collarbone. When he drew back and I felt his eyes on me, I forced my own heavy lids to open partway. He lifted a hand to trace my lips before his fingers blazed a path back to my waist, skimming the side of my breast in the process. My nipples beaded in response. I exhaled, not realizing I had been holding my breath.
His fingers flexed, and his mouth brushed the shell of my ear as he leaned down and whispered my name.
“Ready to eat?”
Disoriented, I blinked at him.
“Our picnic?” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You know, the whole reason we came out here?”
I took a step back and ran my tongue across my teeth in annoyance. He was playing with me. And it was working.
“Sure. Let’s eat.” I marched over to the cooler and beach bag. Finding an oversized beach towel inside, I spread it out near the bean bags and sat down on one side of it, wrapping my arms around my bent knees. “What’s for lunch?”
West grinned. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a little of everything.”
Reaching into the cooler, he started pulling out small plastic containers, subdivided into sections holding crackers, cheese, and circles of meat.
My eyebrows shot up. “You brought Lunchables?”
“Hey, don’t laugh. I love these things. I have turkey, ham, bologna, and pepperoni, your choice.”
“You brought Lunchables,” I repeated, this time a statement instead of a question. “For our picnic.”
“Not just Lunchables. I packed apples and watermelon too.”
I nodded at him, dumbfounded. I’m not sure what I expected when he invited me on a picnic, but somehow, this wasn’t it. Shaking one of the plastic sealed containers at him, I said, “I thought size mattered! These are for kids!”
“Babe, I got us covered. I have three of each kind.”
I tipped my head, not sure how to even reply to that kind of logic.
“Plus, I brought us dessert. Hold on, you’ll like this.” Rising up on his knees to dig through the cooler, West put the fruit and Lunchables between us, tossing one of the apples to General Beauregard, who happily set to gnawing on it a few feet away from us. After placing some bottles of water on the striped towel, he extracted a familiar looking green-and-white box from the cooler, and my breath caught. “Krispy Kreme original glazed. Bought fresh this morning.”
My eyes crinkled in the corners, and I bit my lip, trying to contain my laughter. He displayed the box like a model on The Price is Right.
“Come on, admit it. I did good.”
“The doughnuts might make up for the Lunchables,” I conceded.
“Hey, when was the last time you had one? I’m telling you, whoever invented these things was a fucking genius. Meat, cheese, and crackers, all packaged together. What’s not to love?”
He seemed genuinely thrilled. I poked my tongue in my cheek and picked up a package, staring at it. “They make pepperoni ones now?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Yup, with mozzarella. Fancy, right?”
I blew out a breath and gave in to the laughter. “Very.”
Peeling back the plastic wrapper, I assembled my mini cracker stacks. I would never admit it to him, but they were a lot better than I remembered. West worked his way through one of each variety and then pointed to the apples. He’d bought two of each color. I picked up a Golden Delicious and took a bite.
After snagging the other red one, he whistled. General Beauregard perked his ears in our direction, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his original apple long gone. Panting, the dog lay next to West and wagged his tail. West pulled his arm back, and General Beauregard leapt to his feet, instantly alert. Throwing the apple high in the air, West yelled “Catch!” as the hound crouched low. As the apple began its descent, the dog jumped, the fruit easily snatched out of the air, his ears spread like wings steering him in for the landing. Regaining his footing, he adjusted his grip on the prize, working his jaw, and shook his head with the fruit clenched between his jowls. Then he settled onto the edge of the oversized towel, holding the apple between his paws, and began crunching on it.
“He likes the red ones the best.”
I wrinkled my brow. “How in the world do you know that?”
“I know. Me and General Beauregard, we talk about these things, man-to-man. I take care of him, and he’s a chick magnet for me. We have this partnership all worked out. He gets paid in food, I get paid in pu—” West broke off in a coughing fit.
“Right,” I said.
West ducked his head and smiled, a dimple showing in his cheek. “He caught your attention, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, ’cause I thought he was abandoned. And he looked sad.”
“He always looks sad. It’s the big ears. I told you, size matters. And looks are deceiving. That dog has the best life ever.”
“I figured that was you.”
“Me? Why would you think I have the best life ever?”
“You live at the beach—”
“So do you,” West interrupted.
“You fish and bartend for a living.”
“Okay, yeah, that part’s pretty awesome.”
“You live with your brother.”
“I live with my best friend, just like you. He just happens to be my brother too, the fortunate bastard.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re close with your family.”
“Mm, you’re partly right. I’m close with my siblings and my grandparents.”
“Not your parents?”
West hesitated, tilting his head. “You really want to hear about this?”
I shrugged. “Isn’t this what people do on dates? Get to know each other? You were the one who insisted on taking me out today. So talk.”
West sighed and shifted on the towel, lying back until his head was in my lap. “If we’re going to have a therapy session, I’m going to get in the proper position,” he joked, looking up.
I followed his gaze. Wispy cirrus clouds painted the sky with their pale brushstrokes.
I reclined back onto one of my hands and ran my fingers through his hair with the other. He leaned into my touch, and I repeated the motion, lightly scraping my nails against his scalp. He groaned.
“Keep that up, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Family history. Social security number. Where I hid the body.”
I paused, stilling my hand, and he squinted up at me. “Kidding.”
“You better be.”
Settling back against me again and closing his eyes, West took a deep breath before he started. “Okay, so, my parents. There’s not much to tell. Appearances are everything to them because they have money. And I wanted to please them, so I tried to fit the mold. Went to the right school, followed my stepdad into the family business—do you know who my parents are?”
I shook my head.
“Montgomery Golf? No? The company has a couple of different sides to it. From golf course design and management to golf clubs and golf accessories. It’s a rich man’s game, and my parents like to look the part. Picture catered parties and symphony halls and charity balls and—really, just about any excuse to gossip about the other rich assholes, but with better food and better clothes than most people. Don’t get me wrong, some of the men run companies, but a lot of them, like my father, are the heads of boards, and it’s the managers who do the real work.”
My mouth twisted. “So you grew up with money, and your parents liked nice things. I’m not seeing the problem here, West.”
He let out a dark chuckle. “I didn’t at first, either. I spent years going to pointless meetings, shaking the right hands, networking with the power players. And why? I hated it. It just took me awhile to realize that was okay. I didn’t have to take over the company one day. I could be myself, and that was enough.”
“What made you figure it out?” My fingers were still sifting through West’s short hair.
“Wyatt,” he said, a smile drifting over his face. “Every time I’d come down to visit him and his stupid beach bar, it was obvious how happy he was. Like, he loved getting up every morning and living his life here. I wanted that. That simple fucking everyday happiness.”
“So . . . what happened?”
“I figured he had the right idea and followed him. Told my parents, packed up my shit, and left Chicago and all that phony ass kissing behind. Decided to grow up and be a man and make my own money, not live off my parents’ hand-outs. Bought a boat. Figured out a way to make money with it. End of story.”
I studied him. The relaxed lines of his body as he sprawled across the towel. His strong jawline. His long fingers resting on his sculpted abs. His citrus and salt scent.
“It’s that simple?”
He nodded. “Yeah, it is. I love being on the water and the challenge of trying to catch the biggest fish. Finding a way to make other dudes pay for the gas and bait was genius. My friends are here. I own part of a fucking bar. Life’s pretty damn perfect if you ask me.”
“Do you miss it? The wealth and the perks that came with it?”
He dropped his head back to study me. Reaching up, he pulled my sunglasses off my face, looking me right in the eyes. “Nothing was genuine. How can you appreciate something—I mean, really, truly appreciate something you’ve never had to work for—something that’s just handed to you—something you don’t create or build or earn yourself?” He paused, and his blue-gray eyes moved over my face before locking on mine again, his gaze intense. “I wanted something that’s mine. Mine and nobody else’s.”
The air crackled between us, the slap of the water against the side of the boat sharply staccato. The humidity was tangible, pulled away by an errant breeze before settling back around our shoulders, urging us to give in to the heat building between us. A seagull floated overhead before diving into the water in search of its own lunch.
I let out a shaky breath and swallowed hard.
“Is that such a crazy dream?” he asked, his voice rough.
I traced his eyebrows, smoothing the furrows from his forehead. “No. It doesn’t sound crazy at all.”
West’s lips twitched, and he shifted off my lap to sit up and face me. “Enough of this serious bullshit. You want any of this watermelon before I eat it? I could only fit three slices.”
I rolled my eyes at the subject change. “Yeah, I’ll take one.”
West split the seedless fruit between us and took a big bite of one of his slices, a dribble of juice snaking a path down his chin.
“Know why I packed watermelon?”
I swallowed a mouthful, feeling some drip down my own chin. “Why?”
“’Cause of your shampoo. I looked in your shower.
You always smell like watermelon, and now I find myself buying one every time I’m at the damn grocery store.”
I bit my lip to keep my smile contained. “You don’t like watermelon?”
He waited until I met his eyes. “It’s quickly becoming my favorite.”
I flushed and tried to change the subject. “Favorite color?”
“Blue. Really? You want to know this shit?”
I shrugged. “You said you wanted to get to know each other better.”
“Fine. Morning or night person?”
“Night. Pancakes or waffles?”
“Pancakes. Chocolate or vanilla?”
“Chocolate. Chinese takeout or Mexican?”
“Mexican. Dress up or dress down?”
“Dress down, most of the time anyway.” He nodded in agreement with my choice. “Batman or Superman?”
“Batman. Favorite position?” He looked at me with an innocent expression and took a big bite of melon.
I stared at him for a moment and put my rind in an empty Lunchable container. “Offense.”
West tossed his rind next to mine and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “So you like to be in charge?”
I didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “If the guy doesn’t know what he’s doing, then yes.”
“And if he does?” West leaned closer.
“Then wouldn’t he be choosing the position?” I cocked one eyebrow, challenging him.
“Probably. Unless he wants to see what kind of moves you’ve got.”
I licked my lips. “I’ve got moves.”
“I know. And I can’t wait to see them again but not here. General Beauregard is underage. We need to keep it G-rated, PG tops.” West winked. “Wouldn’t want to traumatize the audience.”
I blinked at his comment. Suddenly, I was back in Nashville, back in my loft, listening to Asshole and Jameson talk about videos of me. Footage of Rebecca. Sex tapes. I gasped and turned away, shoving my sunglasses on top of my head and rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands, trying to erase the memories. Even though I had destroyed all the evidence, I still felt dirtied from the experience, like I wore a scarlet P for porn. I was anything but an ideal match for a guy like West, where image mattered to his parents. Maybe he didn’t want to be a part of the family business, but his love for them was clear from his actions. I had a past as an inadvertent adult film star, and I took boudoir photos for a living. What was I thinking?
A warm hand rubbed my back. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Something in my eyes. It’s better now.” Forcing myself to lower my hands, I dropped my sunglasses back over my eyes and smiled at him. “I’m ready for a doughnut, aren’t you?”
Moving away from him, I popped open the hinged top of my favorite green-and-white box, snagging one and taking a big bite. Yeah, I might have been eating my feelings just a little.
“How’d you know about the doughnuts?” I asked between bites.
“I’m just that good.” He lifted one shoulder in an arrogant shrug.
I snorted.
“Fine,” he admitted. “I asked Rue what your culinary weakness was. Fair warning—I plan on finding out all of your weaknesses and fully exploiting them.”
He looked at me, his eyes dark with promise, daring me to disagree.
I was starting to think West was my biggest weakness.
And I wasn’t ready for him to know that.
Breaking his gaze, I finished off my doughnut, holding my sticky hand in the air as I looked for another clean napkin. Not finding one right off, I licked the sugary remnants off my thumb. I heard a soft groan and peeked up to see West focused on my mouth. Eyes half-lidded, he pulled my hand to him and drew the tip of my first finger into his mouth, his lips wrapping around my sensitive skin. The rough scrape of his tongue as he licked and sucked each finger set me on fire, my eyes closing and lips parting. By the time he finished, my breathing was ragged, my thighs were clenched, and I wanted to feel that hot mouth moving on a different part of me altogether.
“You taste sweet,” he murmured. “Like you did the other night.”
I bit my lip to keep my moan contained.
Adjusting himself, West let out a slow breath. “Yeah, it’s time to cool off. C’mon, we’re going for a quick swim before we head back.”
I opened one eye and gave him my best are you crazy look.
West stood above me and reached down to help me up.
I remained firmly ensconced in the bean bag and crossed my arms over my chest.
“I just ate,” I pointed out. “We can’t swim for at least two hours. I’m a lifeguard. I know these things.”
He stared at me for a beat. “Then you know that’s bullshit.”
I squirmed. “West, I told you, I don’t like getting in the water.”
“I drove you miles offshore so the water would be clearer. So you could see what you were getting into. I thought this would help.”
I shrugged, undeterred. We were in deep water. I had no doubt there were some big ass sea animals out there. That sea turtle had been cool and all, but he didn’t live alone.
West crouched in front of me, putting his hands on my knees. “Care to explain it to me?”
I made a face.
He chuckled. “Please? With doughnuts on top?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s stupid.”
“Nothing about you is stupid.”
Sighing in defeat, I told him my lame story. I expected annoyance or dismissal or irritation. Instead, he listened quietly and didn’t interrupt my woeful tale of childhood jellyfish trauma.
Rising to his feet again, he held out his hand. “Will you take a quick dip with me?”
I lowered my eyes, embarrassed and frustrated, but at the same time, pleased he’d worded it as a request instead of an order for a change. “I can’t,” I whispered, agitated.
“Okay.” West didn’t press me further. “General Beauregard and I are going to cool off for a few minutes. You can stay on the boat and enjoy the view.”
I grinned and made a point of focusing anywhere but him. “Yeah, the scenery is pretty amazing out here.”
He put a finger under my chin and lifted my face to his. He made a show of looking me over and then winked. “It’s fucking beautiful.”
I sucked in a breath as he turned and walked to the back of the boat and whistled for the dog, the eager puppy immediately on his heels. West opened some kind of hatchway that separated the back of the boat from a swim platform, and both he and the dog jumped overboard, uncaring of what might be waiting for them.
My heart leapt to my throat, and I raced to the rear of the boat, scanning the water for any signs of sea life, vicious or otherwise. Really, I considered all sea life malicious until proven innocent.
West splashed the hound, who whined and swam in happy circles around him, before switching to float on his back, his muscular body on full display. He seemed carefree and relaxed, his eyes closed against the sun’s glare and his arms splayed wide at his sides.
It was like a damn Greek tragedy; the land-bound mortal maiden drawn to the unreachable sea god. Well, I wasn’t quite a maiden anymore, but still.
I spotted a small jellyfish—a damn jellyfish—but it was far enough away from them I didn’t sound an alarm yet, although I resolved to keep a close eye on it as West relaxed, and the dog paddled nearby.
But when a small torpedo suddenly launched out of the water not ten feet from General Beauregard and flew, fucking flew, past the boat, I screamed like the scared little girl I was. The thing skimmed across the top of the water for about thirty feet before it dove back in. West shot up in the water and swam back to the boat when he heard my piercing cry.
Pushing the dog onboard ahead of him, West rushed to my side. He grabbed my shoulders and gave me a quick once-over before scanning the horizon. “What’s wrong?!”
Two more torpedoes took off on the left side of the boat. Starboard? Port? Who the fuck knew? I gasped and pointed. West whipped his head around in time to see the things before they slipped back into the ocean.
Turning back to me, he dropped his hands from my shoulders and clutched his stomach, laughing uncontrollably.
I turned wide, disturbed eyes in his direction.
“I take it you’ve never seen a flying fish before?”
I blinked at him. “That’s a real thing? Flying fish?”
He nodded, trying to reign in his laughter.
“That thing was a fish?”
Another zipped by on the other side of the boat, and General Beauregard yelped and ran to the bow.
West grinned. “Cool, huh?”
“Do they bite?” I pictured swarms of flying fish attacking the boat.
“They don’t have teeth, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Why do they fly?”
West tipped his head from one side to the other. “They’re generally trying to escape from a predator,” he admitted.
I twisted my head in the direction they had come from, but I couldn’t see anything. I edged to the rail and looked into the water.
West slid behind me and plastered himself against me, wrapping his dripping arms around my waist. I turned to protest, and he pressed against my front, soaking most of my sundress.
“Hey!”
“Sorry, did I get you wet?” He grinned unrepentantly.
I pushed him away and pulled the bottom of the damp cotton away from my thighs before turning my accusing green gaze on him. “Are you trying to get me to strip down to my bikini?”
“Maybe.”
I tugged the dress over my head and laid it over the back of the center console, next to his shirt. “You could have just asked me, you know.”
“Would that have worked?” He raised his eyebrows, one corner of his mouth edging into a smile as he took in my bikini—seafoam-green edged with black lingerie-seamed detailing. Yes, I matched my bikini to my nail polish.
“Probably.”
“What else will you do if I ask?” He walked toward me slowly.
“What else do you want?”
He kept moving until we were almost touching. He bent his head down, stopping just short of my lips. “Everything,” he breathed, closing the last centimeter separating us.
His lips met mine, tasting of salt and sugar. Hands cupped my face and slid into my hair as we devoured each other. I wrapped my arms around him and grabbed his ass, pulling him snug against me until his hardness nestled into my softness. He cursed and ground himself against me, his tongue mimicking what his cock clearly wanted. I lifted one thigh and wrapped it around his waist, needing to get closer, my arms circling his back, and my hands clutching his shoulder blades.
We ate at each other, not bothering to pause for breath, and when his hands cupped my ass, lifting me and urging me to wrap my legs fully around his waist, I groaned with satisfaction, pressing my hips against him, desperate for friction. I nipped his lower lip, pausing to steal a breath, and he rested his forehead against mine, his beautiful eyes closed. Bending my head, I ran my tongue down his neck and trailed kisses along his shoulder as my hands explored his upper back, kneading his hard muscles and feeling them flex in response. Changing directions, I ran my palms up his neck, forcing his head back, and dug my fingers into his scalp until he opened his eyes. He groaned.
“I didn’t bring you out here for this.”
He rolled his hips, and I couldn’t answer, except to squeeze him tighter with my thighs.
I moved my lips to his ear. “Why the fuck not?”
His lip curled, and he tugged on my braid, carving a few inches between us. He took a deep breath, and his chest expanded with the movement, pressing into my breasts.
“I was serious earlier. I really do want to get to know you better—not just in the carnal sense. But, fuck, if you don’t make me forget all my noble intentions.”
“I like your intentions. I like your mouth too. Can’t we do both?” I was shameless as I squirmed against him.
He swore long and hard as he lowered me to my feet. “I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t have a damn condom here, babe.”
A rustling noise interrupted my response, and we turned to see General Beauregard nosing the now empty Krispy Kreme box across the deck. West moved around me, hollering a sharp reprimand at the dog, who beat a quick escape to the front of the boat. After tossing the remains of our lunch back in the cooler, West returned to my side, hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me to him, and I rested my arms against his tempting chest.
He lifted a hand and cupped the side of my face. “You—you’re so fucking sexy right now with your lips all swollen from my kisses. You make me forget everything else.”
I gripped his biceps, one inked and one not, and leaned my cheek into his palm. “What are you forgetting? Do you have to be somewhere?”
“I just have to bartend tonight—fuck! What time is it?”
Leaning over to grab his phone off the console’s dash, he powered the screen on, checked the time, and groaned.
“We have to head back if I’m going to make the start of my shift.”
I frowned, not ready for our time together to end.
He dipped his head, dropping a kiss on the tip of my nose. “Come with me tonight. Hang out at the bar.”
I sighed. The man did not know how to ask.
But he sure as hell knew how to kiss. Which was more important.
“And watch you flirt with half-dressed girls for tips? That sounds fun.”
“So I can flirt with you.”
I squeezed his tattooed arm. “Need some practice?”
“Not really.”
His ego was truly boundless.
“Hmm. I’ll think about it.” I tapped my chin for effect.
West’s smirk was too arrogant for my liking, and I left him in suspense for the time being. Turning around, I plopped back down into a bean bag. He was right. It was the best seat on the boat.
Muttering something I couldn’t hear under his breath, West positioned himself behind the console and started up his wannabe yacht, powering us back to reality. I settled farther into the vinyl and closed my eyes against the brutal wind rushing past me, content and happier than I remembered being in a long time.
The next thing I knew, West was shaking my shoulder, waking me up. Disoriented, I sat up and tried to regain my bearings.
We were back at the marina.
Shit, I’d fallen asleep. Again. I swiped at my mouth, checking for drool.
As I got to my feet, the bean bag made an awful peeling sound as it fell away from me. My sweat had glued it to me, and I was pretty sure I left a layer of skin behind on it.
“Sorry ’bout that.” I cringed.
“My fault,” West offered. “I don’t normally bore my dates to sleep.”
I ducked my head in embarrassment and made a show of gathering up my bag. As West helped me over the side of the boat and onto the dock, General Beauregard patiently waited, leash pooled at his feet and his tail wagging. We made our way back to the parking lot, and that traitorous dog walked beside West the whole time, never once even tugging against the leash.
“So he behaves for you, and he’s a heathen for me?” I nodded at the furry creature responsible for the ache in my shin.
“He recognizes authority and responds to it. He was testing you.”
“Well, I don’t think I passed,” I said.
“That’s okay. He’s not the one you need to worry about responding to you.”
I lifted my eyebrows at him, not following him at all.
West ran his eyes down my bikini-clad figure and laughed. “You want to check out my response?” He dropped the cooler with a loud bang on the aluminum walkway and set the beach bag on top it, before taking mine and putting it with his. He tugged my hips forward until our thighs brushed and dropped his chin. His fingers dug in, until nothing but Lycra and nylon fabric separated us.
Oh yeah, he responded to me.
And if size mattered, then I was impressed.
Cheeks heating, I put my hands on his chest, creating a little space. General Beauregard read my mind and nosed in between us.
“I’m not ready for this date to end,” West admitted, one hand coming up to smooth my tangled hair off my face, trying to tuck the wind-snarled strands behind my ear. “Come to the Wreck with me.”
West’s skin sizzled against mine, and I couldn’t help sliding my hands up to his shoulders and behind his neck. My breathing was faster when I raised my eyes to his. “Would that be our second date then?”
He tilted his head, and his eyes followed the path of his fingers down my neck. “Does it matter?”
He said nothing physical on the first date. If we could skip ahead to our second . . .
I licked my lips. “Maybe.”
His eyes flickered down to my mouth, and his hand gripped the back of my neck, forcing me to look up at him. He was grinning at me.
“I know what you’re thinking. The bar will abso-fucking-lutely be our second date.”