I WOKE UP TO the sound of panting. Hot, damp air was puffing against my face. When something wet poked my cheek a few seconds later, I jerked away. Confused, I cracked my eyes open, and staring back at me were the saddest, droopiest brown eyes I had ever seen.
What the hell?
I smothered a scream and struggled to sit up in bed. Blinking against the sledgehammer banging in my skull, I fell back to my elbow and realized two things at once. One—I knew those eyes. General Beauregard was looking back at me, opening his mouth in a huge yawn, drool stretching between his jowls. Two—I was most definitely not in my own bed.
Looking down to see a tattooed arm draped over my hips, I was slower to realize the most important fact. I wasn’t alone either. The arm moved into a stretch, and the man next to me yawned too.
West.
My elbow fell out from under me, and I laid on my back staring at the ceiling, trying to force my sluggish brain to work. What the fuck happened when I left Grady’s?
West leaned over me to rub General Beauregard’s ears. “Morning, boy. You ready to go out?” West’s voice was a raspy rumble that resonated through me. His bare chest pressed against my left side, and if I lifted myself up the smallest fraction, I’d be able to lick his shoulder. I closed my eyes against the temptation and took a deep breath. I smelled soap, salt, and citrus. I smelled West. I swallowed back a moan.
General Beauregard let out a soft whine of pure bliss and laid his head against me. When I turned to glance at him, his tongue swiped my cheek, and his tail thumped against the floor. West laughed and gave the dog one last pat. “I know, buddy. She does look good first thing in the morning.”
My cheeks warmed. And other parts of me did too.
His arm brushed against my breasts as he pulled it back, and my nipples budded in response. He flipped back the covers on his side and padded across the room to a set of sliding glass doors, opening one enough so that the hound slipped out. The sunrise peeked over the ocean through the glass, but it barely registered before my eyes returned to West.
He stood looking out the door in just a pair of boxer briefs. He was all golden skin and lean muscle, with a tight ass hugged by some thin black fabric. I was jealous of that fabric. As he turned back to face me, the grooved definition of his abs was on display, his torso narrowing to a tempting V before disappearing. My eyes dropped lower, taking in the prominent bulge in his shorts. Maybe I was still dreaming. That would explain everything but the jackhammer in my skull. The light dimmed as he drew the curtains and shut out the light.
Slipping back into bed and covering his lower body, he turned on his side and faced me, one arm tunneling under the pillow beneath his head, the other resting between us. I kept my eyes on his fingers and tried to focus. I did a quick inventory of my body. My head was pounding, but the darkened room helped. My stomach was clenching, but I blamed that more on the view than the hangover. I tensed my legs experimentally. My thighs felt . . . fine. Not sore at all. What did that mean? Had the sex been bad? Or maybe he had been like Jared, and the act had been over so fast that my muscles never even got a workout.
“Coffee,” I croaked, turning away from him. I couldn’t be expected to think clearly without coffee. I sat up on the side of the bed and swayed for a moment. Jesus Christ, my head. Looking down, I saw I was only wearing one of the logoed bar shirts from the Wreck and my underwear. My cutoffs were on the floor near the end of the bed, and I slid them on, grateful for the oversized length of the shirt.
Without looking back, I left the room, figuring the kitchen couldn’t be that hard to find. Sure enough, it was just down the hall and to the right. I pushed my wild hair out of my face and squinted around the too-bright room. Morning light filtered through curtainless windows and glinted off the oversized stainless steel fridge. I reached for the hair tie on my wrist, but it had disappeared along with the rest of my clothes.
Coffee. I smelled it. I had to be close. Turning around farther, I spotted it. Just past the retro enamel toaster, a glass pot sat beneath the small coffee maker, filled halfway with steaming brown liquid gold. I plucked a cup out of the sink, not caring if it was clean or dirty, and filled it to the brim. Leaning back against the counter, I inhaled deeply, trying to expel the smell of West from my mind.
As I took my first tentative sip, Wyatt walked into the room, wearing only board shorts. I swallowed the wrong way, coughing and sputtering before setting the cup down behind me, my lungs burning. What was it about these guys that messed with my basic ability to breathe properly? And what the fuck was Wyatt doing here?
Wyatt reached around me to pour himself a cup. “Mornin,’” he said, smiling at me with a knowing expression as his eyes ran down the length of my body.
I looked at him in dawning horror.
Oh. My. God.
Did I have a threesome last night?
Wyatt took another swallow and sauntered down the hall toward West’s room. He paused at West’s open door. “Surfin’ in twenty minutes, bro. You coming?”
I felt my face flame at his word choice. Had he already come this morning?
I couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation, only their sporadic laughter. Oh, dear sweet Jesus, don’t let them be laughing at me, I begged. I stared into my coffee cup like it held all the answers and then drank the hot liquid as fast as I could without scalding myself.
Ten minutes later, as I finished my second cup, West came down the hall, dressed in board shorts too. Only board shorts. Were they allergic to shirts? Was I wearing his last clean one or something?
He went to pour himself a cup of coffee and only the dregs were left. My fault. As he refilled the machine, he glanced at me warily. “How’re you feeling this morning? Can I give you a ride home?”
A ride. My mind flashed back to his bedroom and his nearly naked body in the bed next to mine. I could almost picture myself under him, his narrow hips flexing between my legs. I peered out the window over the sink instead of meeting his eyes. That’s right. I knew where I was. I was only a few blocks from home.
“I’m good,” I said. “I can just walk.”
West leaned his hip against the counter and faced me. “You sure? It’s not a problem. I know—”
“It’s fine,” I cut him off, lifting my cup for one last swallow. My head was tolerable now.
He studied me for a long minute. “Okay. Let me just grab your clothes.” He disappeared around the corner and came back with a knotted, plastic Bi-Lo grocery bag. “I tried to rinse them out for you. I thought about washing them, but that pink shirt felt all delicate and crap, and I didn’t want to mess it up.”
I took the bag, not understanding what he was trying to explain, but eager to make a fast getaway. “Okay.”
He led the way through a cozy but masculine living room to the front door and followed me out onto the porch. Facing him nervously, I wet my lips. “Did we—me and you—or me and you and him—did we . . .” I trailed off, unable to finish my question. When he didn’t answer right away, I peeked up at him.
He looked at me with a steady gaze. “Does it feel like me and you, or me and you and him, did anything?” His voice was even, giving nothing away.
I narrowed my eyes at him and straightened my back. Using my sweetest voice, I hypothesized, “Maybe it just wasn’t that memorable.”
He glared at me. Leaning forward, he grabbed my upper arms, not hard, but enough to keep me in place. He dipped his head close to mine, his lips almost brushing my ear, and in a rough whisper said, “First of all, I don’t share with anybody, not even my brother. And, Sadie, trust me, when we sleep together, you’ll know it.” I pulled back, confused now. He must have seen it, because he crossed his arms over his chest and regarded me with exasperation. “Do you remember anything from last night?”
I looked away from him. “I remember you were going to give me a ride home.”
“Right. And then when we got to your house, you puked all over the bushes before you could even get up the stairs. It was such a turn on.” He curled his lip in annoyance. “I couldn’t leave you alone like that. My grandma would’ve skinned me alive if she found out I’d left you like that to fend for yourself. I figured I’d bring you back here to sleep it off. You messed your shirt all up, so I put you in one of mine. Like I said, I tried to clean it for you the best I could. I was worried you might get sick again, and I wanted to be close by, so I just put you in bed with me.”
I raised my eyebrow at him. “Convenient.” My tone was accusing.
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I thought so. Did you know you snore?”
“I do not!”
He smirked but didn’t say anything.
I glowered at him a moment longer before my manners grudgingly kicked in. “So, I guess I should say thanks for taking care of me. You didn’t have to do that. Most guys wouldn’t have.”
“I’m not most guys. But you’re right, damsels in distress aren’t normally my thing. You just seem to need more help than most.”
I straightened my backbone. “Excuse me?”
The expression on his face was pure disbelief. “The ocean, the hotel, last night. You should come with a warning label or something. ‘Needs saving from herself.’” He chuckled.
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” I sputtered, offended. Who the hell had designated him my white knight in board shorts anyway?
He grinned at me, and I knew he was enjoying this. “If you say so.”
I gritted my teeth. “Like I said, I should say thanks.”
“But you won’t,” he finished.
I smiled at him, or at least I tried to. It felt more like maybe I bared my teeth before I turned and stomped down the steps to the street, refusing to look back even though I felt his eyes on me until I turned the corner.
THREE DAYS LATER, I skipped down the path to the beach, exuberant. It was Tuesday, my day off this week, and I had spent the whole morning hanging out at the resort and taking pictures. When I’d met with Grady after lunch, I’d had plenty of photos to show him. He’d been receptive and even downloaded two dozen shots off my memory card to show his boss the following week. Rue had helped me come up with some ways to tie in the photography to the Edge’s Facebook page, and Grady looked especially intrigued when I pitched that idea. He said he’d be in touch, but that he was pretty sure we’d be able to come up with something that let me get behind the camera lens more. The meeting had gone so much better than I’d hoped.
I headed down to the beach to see what else I could capture for my portfolio before the crowds left. I knew there was a sandcastle contest for the kids finishing up, and I wanted to get some shots of it.
Jackpot. I strolled around the beachfront, squatting low and coercing the kids to pose next to their creations. Their excited faces shining from behind the wet sand mountains were endearing. The innocent glee of the moment came across well in the pictures. I zoomed in on a fiddler crab caught in the moat of one child’s abandoned fortress. Snapping a handful of quick shots, I panned up with the camera still held up to my eye.
West’s face appeared on my screen, magnified.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, startled, and lowered my arms self-consciously.
“Today? Today I’m driving the parasailing boat. Grady’s regular guy called in sick, and I was free, so here I am. What are you doing? I thought you were a lifeguard.”
“I am. But I’m supposed to be a photographer. I mean, I am a photographer, it’s just hard getting a new business off the ground.”
West laughed. “Yeah, I hear you on that one. Start up’s a bitch.”
I looked at him, puzzled. “You’re trying to break into the parasailing business? I thought the resort owned the boat and the sail?”
“They do, and I’m not. I owed Grady a favor though.” He smirked.
“Okay,” I said, taking a step away. “I’ll let you get back to it then.”
“Ever been up?” He took a step that mirrored mine, keeping even with me.
“On a parasail? Uh, no. And I don’t plan on it.”
“Why not? There’s nothing to it. You just kind of . . . float. Only, on the end of a rope instead of in the water.”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly what?” His eyebrows dipped down.
“It’s over the water.”
He looked at me sideways, comprehension dawning. “That’s right. You’re scared of the water. Well, let’s consider this step one in curing you of your phobia. You’re not going in the water. You’ll be going over the water. Way over.”
“What if I fall?”
He turned back to face me and dropped his chin down to meet my wide eyes. “I won’t let you fall. Sometimes, when I take the turn at the end of the island, your feet dip in for a second, but you’re not going to fall.”
“Don’t you have paying customers you should be taking up?” I asked.
“We’re in a lull. And it only takes fifteen minutes. Come on, let me help you. You live by the ocean now. This fear of yours is ridiculous.”
I shifted my weight from side to side. Holding my hand up to my eyes, I scanned the water. The ocean looked calm right now. Non-threatening. Toddlers splashed where the waves rolled onto the beach. Even they weren’t scared of getting their feet wet. “All right, fine,” I said, giving in with reluctance.
I followed him to the border of the resort property, where the hut for the parasailing rides stood, and enormous butterflies took wing in my stomach—whether from my impending doom or West’s presence, I wasn’t sure. I handed off my camera and bag to Josie, the attendant, and then slipped off my shoes before trailing after West to the harness. Josie followed and helped hook me in to all the straps while West ran over the safety spiel. When he explained the emergency release, I looked at him with alarm. “I thought you said I couldn’t fall!”
He sighed. “You are not going to fall. Trust me on this.”
“How do you know?”
“You’re strapped in.” He reached down to where the webbed belts connected around my pelvis, sliding two fingers under the edges and tugging to show me they weren’t loose. Catching my eye, he dragged his hand from one hip across my stomach to the other hip, his fingers brushing the top of my coral shorts. The butterflies ricocheted off my ribs. He tugged again. “See? All safe.”
I took a deep breath and looked at where his fingers were still touching me. Heat seared through the cotton of my shirt, warming my skin and igniting my blood. The corded bracelets were hanging on his wrist, one blue and white, one green, and one shades of tan. Mixed in with those was a royal blue elastic band. My fingers circled my own wrist, where I usually wore my hair tie. I had a white one on today, but I was missing my blue one from my night at Grady’s. I reached out and touched it. “Is that mine?”
He pulled his hand away. “Yeah. I found it in my bed after you left. I wanted to remember to give it back to you.”
I looked at him expectantly.
“What?” He shrugged. “It looks like you’ve got another one.” He turned and walked to the boat, leaving me watching after him in confusion. Did he not plan on giving it back then?
Minutes later, I was airborne.
He was right. It felt exactly like floating. Like I was a balloon and he was a little kid running as fast as he could, watching the balloon shadow his every move. I spotted my cottage and the Wreck. Hell, I could even see the next two islands from this height. It was beautiful. Freeing. A seagull flew by, and for a second, we soared side by side.
From here, the water looked benign. From here, it was hard to remember there were creatures with sharp teeth and poisonous barbs and strong jaws just waiting for their next victim. From here, West looked like a little toy Lego man in a bathtub, scooting over the surface.
Idly, I watched the boat make a wide U-turn.
The sail puffed and snapped once, hard, as we changed directions. The sail lost speed. I wasn’t falling, but I was moving closer to the water at an alarming rate. My heart climbed into my throat, and my pulse doubled. Biting my lip in trepidation, I bent my legs and tucked my knees toward my chest, trying to escape the upward rush of the water.
The ocean no longer looked innocent. Angry, frothing waves reached up to snatch my feet and pull me in. A fish jumped to my left, and I shrieked. Why the fuck was it jumping? Was it trying to escape from a shark? I drifted closer and closer, and I closed my eyes, unwilling to watch any longer. The breakers roared as they rushed toward the shore, calling for my sacrifice. A fine spray misted my legs. I whimpered.
When my feet dipped in, I snapped my eyes back open.
This was it. I was going down. I clawed at the straps above me, trying desperately to climb higher, to get away. The water swallowed my legs to just above my knees, and I felt my eyes burn with unshed tears. I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. It was like one of those nightmares where you know you’re not going to make it, and everything starts happening in slow motion.
I felt a tug from my hips, where the umbilical connected me to the boat. I wasn’t sinking any farther. Another pull brought me a foot higher, until the water was only at my ankles. Something brushed the underside of my foot, and my whole body shuddered. And then I was soaring again, flying high like a human kite.
This time, I couldn’t appreciate the view. Tears flowed from my eyes, and I just wanted this stupid ride to end. I sucked in huge lungfuls of air, trying to hold in the ugly sobs that threatened to erupt. The wind whipped tendrils of my hair against my face, small stinging lashes that seemed to mock me. Some strands clung stubbornly to the tears trailing down my cheeks.
As I came to a stop back on the beach, I grabbed at the harness around my middle, scrambling for the release. I sank to my knees, unable to figure out the clasp. Josie hurried to my side to assist me and looked at my face with concern.
“Hey,” she whispered. “What’s wrong? Did something pinch you or something?”
“Just get me out of here,” I managed, gasping for control.
She worked me free of the straps, and I ran for the hut, tripping once on the soft sand. All I could think about was escape. I vaguely registered West’s voice calling my name from a distance. I snatched my shoes and hurried down the side path, taking a short cut back to the parking lot. No way I was waiting around and letting him see me like this.
I dragged the heel of my hand over my cheeks as I walked, feeling the grit from the sand sticking to the sea spray and my tears. I drew in a deep, shaky breath. It was over. I was fine. I dug my car keys out of my pocket.
Fuck, I needed alcohol.
I SLUNK INTO the Wreck, hoping Wyatt wouldn’t be there. I didn’t want to see any reminders of West, nothing to remind me of my mid-air freak out. I just wanted a shot to settle my nerves. A petite, sandy-haired girl with freckles was refilling the red coolers by the front door with peanuts from a large bag. I looked around for a bartender, but the girl seemed to be the only other one here.
She wiped her hands on her jeans then walked behind the bar. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“A shot. Something strong.”
Her gaze was curious, but she didn’t say anything as she plucked a bottle from the top shelf and poured.
She slid the glass across the bar and waited while I tossed it back. I winced from the burn as I swallowed. The warmth pooled in my stomach, and I shook my head, working my mouth against the taste.
After snagging a bag of kiwis, the girl grabbed a cutting board and started chopping, dropping the pieces into another big red Coleman cooler. Fruit was spread out on the counter, and I guessed she was prepping the grog. She worked in silence for a few minutes, glancing up at me every so often like she wanted to ask me a question but was trying to hold back. What was her problem?
Then I remembered it was three-thirty on a Tuesday afternoon, and I was alone in a bar drinking. And that I was the one with a problem.
“I’m not normally like this,” I felt the need to explain. “I just had a bad afternoon. There was this gu—”
“There’s always a guy,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “And it’s always his fault.”
I grinned. I liked her. “Well, of course it’s his fault.”
She finished with the kiwis and scooted a box of peaches closer. “Want to talk about it?”
I chewed my lip. I wanted to do anything but talk about it. I reached for my purse to pay and stopped short. My purse. It was still at the resort. Behind the parasailing hut. I swore under my breath.
“Ahhh . . .”
“Hailey.”
“Right, Hailey. I seem to be having an extra bad day. That guy I mentioned earlier? I had to get away, and I left so quick I forgot my bag. And my wallet. Could I maybe help you chop fruit or something for awhile in exchange for that shot?” I shot her a beseeching look, hoping for some female solidarity.
She lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t want to go get your purse? Do you have your phone?”
I was silent for a moment, embarrassment over my getaway creeping over me. “No. I guess I don’t have that either. But I’m not going back there right now. I sort of had a breakdown over something stupid and humiliated the crap out of myself in front of this guy. I-I’ll get it later.”
“Where?” she asked curiously.
“The Edge,” I said, looking at the dollar bill above my head. “It’ll be fine. I work there. Josie’ll probably stick it in my locker for me.” You be my Dairy Queen, and I’ll be your Burger King: You treat me right, and I’ll do it your way. A small giggle escaped me, and Hailey turned to see what I was looking at.
“They’re terrible, aren’t they? Do guys really think we’ll fall for that crap?”
I twisted my lips. “Some guys don’t need a line.”
She snorted. “Sounds like something my brother would say. West’s ego knows no bounds.”
I froze. “West is your brother? West Montgomery?”
She paused from peeling the peach in her hand and then removed another cutting board from behind the bar and placed it next to me. She grabbed two peaches and a knife and put them on top. “I take it you’ve already met him and his ego.”
I picked up a peach and started peeling, ignoring the flush that crept up my neck. “You could say that.”
“I’d apologize for him, but it probably wouldn’t do much good.”
“Actually,” I admitted, “Today he was trying to be nice. I just messed it all up.” I told her the short version of my parasailing adventure.
“He dipped you in, even though he knew you were scared of the water?” She sounded outraged on my behalf.
I tipped my head to one side then the other. “He warned me that would happen. My legs just went in farther than I expected, and I freaked. It’s not really his fault.” I frowned. Wait, why was I defending him?
Hailey was watching me, her eyes assessing. She started on another peach. “What about the water scares you?”
I sliced the peach I had peeled into neat, even chunks, making a small pile. “I don’t know. And it’s not really the water. It’s what might be in the water that I can’t see. Like, some creature will try to attack me. It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid.”
“Did something happen when you were younger? Something traumatic?”
I cut up the rest of the peach and started on the second. “Kind of. When I was five, I was running on the beach, looking for shells with my brother. We were just running and playing and having fun. Being kids. And I saw this big bubble thing, and I ran and jumped right on it, thinking I’d bounce up in the air or something. Only it was a jellyfish, and I ended up with a giant welt on both feet and my leg. My parents rushed me to the hospital, and I ended up having to spend the night. But I was fine once it healed. No lasting damage or anything crazy like that.”
I cut a wedge of peach and popped it in my mouth. “It’s dumb. People get stung all the time. And I was stung on the sand, not the water. But ever since then, I’ve had this phobia of the ocean.”
“It’s not dumb.”
I looked up at her. “It is. And I know it is. I just can’t seem to shake it.”
“Well, West is still an ass for scaring you.”
I gave her a halfhearted smile. “Maybe. He’ll probably never talk to me again anyway. I’m sure he thinks I’m a head case now.”
“He will not!” she protested. “And if he does, tough. It’s his loss. You can be my friend instead.”
I smiled. “I think that can be arranged.” I handed over the cutting board piled with peach chunks. She dumped it, then handed the board back with a carton of strawberries on it.
“So what do you do at the Edge?” she asked.
“I lifeguard right now. I used to be a photographer though. I’m trying to be one again. How ’bout you?”
“I work here when I can. My brothers try to help me out. Mostly, I’m just a mom.”
“A mom?” I looked up at her in surprise.
“I know, I’m young. Only twenty-two. My fiancé is a Marine. I met him right after he graduated from basic on Parris Island, and he totally swept me off my feet. Cody, my son, was an unexpected surprise. He’ll be two next week. Adam’s overseas right now, so he won’t be here to see it.” She blinked hard, and I could see tears fill her eyes.
Hmm. “What if he could?” I asked, wanting to help.
She took a deep breath and wiped her hand across her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“What if I came over this weekend, and we took a bunch of pictures and sent them to him?”
Hailey’s eyes lit up, and she dropped her knife to clap her hands. “That would be so awesome! You would do that for me?”
“We’re friends now, right? Plus, it’d be good for me. I haven’t done a real shoot in awhile.”
She squealed and came around the bar to hug me.
We discussed details for the weekend and then Hailey lent me her phone so I could text Josie to toss all my stuff in my locker at work.
Josie: Already handled, chica. Not a problem. FYI, West freaked when you vanished.
Me: Shit.
Josie: Don’t worry, I covered for you. I told him you had gotten a little airsick and had to make a quick exit to the bathroom.
Me: Thanks! I owe you!
Josie: He seemed to buy it. Honestly, I thought it was sweet he was so concerned. You guys dating?
Me: NO!!
Josie: Do you want to be?
I stared at her words on the screen, my fingers hovering over the keys with uncertainty.
I never answered her.