Chapter 13
Alex

Alex stood beneath the rainfall showerhead in the cabin and hoped the soothing spray would wash away the shame of the day.

It didn’t work. He mentally kicked himself repeatedly. Why he thought it would be a good idea to take Faith out into the middle of nowhere—his middle of nowhere—and rub lotion on her, he had no clue.

He tried to tell himself it had been an honest mistake. That the lotion thing had just been a fluke, and he’d honestly been trying to avoid burns. But even he knew that was mostly bullshit, no matter how he twisted it in his mind.

But now? He couldn’t stop thinking about how her skin had felt on his. Or how she’d groaned and pushed into his hand. He’d seen her nipples harden at his touch and couldn’t stop himself from responding in turn. Alex had stiffened instantly the moment he’d touched her but had kept a large enough distance between them that she hadn’t noticed.

I gotta stop. But it was like he’d opened a floodgate and there was no turning back.

He’d been in this shower with its lukewarm water for ten minutes already. Alex turned the tap all the way to cold and flinched as the cool spray caressed his skin. But it did nothing to lessen his hardness. It ached painfully, but there was no way he would let himself get any kind of release. He was afraid he’d come with images of Faith in that nothing of a see-through bikini in his mind.

After another ten minutes, he gave up. He shivered as he turned off the tap and grabbed a towel. As he stomped around the cabin to dry off, he tried to think of anything but Faith.

Alex pulled jeans and a T-shirt out of the dresser and gave his hair a final rub with the towel. There was no way to deny his attraction for her. Don’t forget that she’s not sticking around, he told himself. Yeah. Who needs that kind of trouble, anyway?

And that’s exactly what she was. Trouble. For the past week he’d avoided the house as much as possible. At first, it had been easy. In fact, it was kind of nice to take a break from Caleb’s jokes at dinner and Lee’s perpetual “woe is me” expressions. But days of making bonfires on the beach and living off his meager catches was starting to get old. He hated to admit it, but he craved company. Specifically, her company.

Alex sighed as he combed his damp hair. Mama wasn’t going to put up with “another damn day” of him avoiding dinner. That was how she’d put it when he walked Faith back to the inn that afternoon.

“You avoiding us?” Mama had asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said sullenly. He felt like a teenager getting reprimanded in front of Faith.

“Good. Then I expect to see all y’all for supper tonight,” she’d said.

Everyone else was already in the formal dining room when he made his way to Greystone. Matt bombarded Faith with questions about firms in San Francisco, while Caleb snatched chips and pimiento dip from the table. Gwen swatted his hand.

As soon as Mama strode into the dining room and set down the mashed sweet potatoes, Alex went to his chair and waited for her to sit. He groaned inwardly when he saw Faith approach him.

“Can I sit here?” she asked, that sweet smile on her face.

“Do what you want,” he said. “But it’s quiet time.”

She made a face and sat down anyway. The dinner felt forced, though Mama commanded it like a queen. She only asked Faith once how the afternoon had been before she directed the conversation toward Caleb and Lee.

Gwen served the still-warm peach pie à la mode, and the table was pleasantly quiet save for the occasional scrape of the last plump peach slice from a plate. Caleb leaned back with a hand on his stomach. “I’m stuffed,” he said. “May I be excused, ma’am?” he asked Mama. She shooed him away.

“Alex,” Mama said. “Why don’t you take Faith on a walk? It’s good for digestion.”

“I’d love that!” Faith said. He thought he saw his mama give a conspiratorial smile but couldn’t be sure. And Alex was too full to argue anyway.

The sun had just started to descend as they walked toward the trail that led to the water’s edge. The rays got caught in her locks and gave the loose waves an almost amber look. She was every bit as beautiful as that sunset, if he were honest.

“So,” he stammered, “when, uh, when are you going to meet with George again?” He hated the way that man’s name sounded on his tongue.

“Ugh,” she said. “I’m not. Another contractor is coming tomorrow to take a look at the property, though. And give a concrete bid.”

They’d reached the water. The still surface reflected the pastel rainbows of the setting sun. “Really?” he asked. He wanted to push more, ask what had happened to George, but he was conflicted.

Obviously, Faith had fired George because of him. But what was he supposed to say? To feel? Did she expect him to be grateful? I should be grateful, asshole. “Thanks.” It sounded awkward, but she smiled up at him.

“It’s no big deal,” she said. “I didn’t exactly want to feel indebted to him anyway. Besides, he kind of gives me the creeps.”

She could make it sound like she did it for herself all she wanted, but he knew the truth. The silence began to stretch into uncomfortable territory. He racked his brain for something to say, but it was blank.

“It’s beautiful here,” she said. “But, I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to suit you.”

“Thanks,” he said sarcastically.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said and elbowed him in the ribs. They stopped simultaneously to take in the sunset. “I mean, where did you think you’d end up? When you were a kid?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a frown. “Not here, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, well. I thought I’d get the hell out of California the first chance I got,” she said. Faith popped a mint between her plump lips. “And look at me. San Francisco’s as far as I got.”

“I don’t know how it happens,” he said. “I made mistakes, plenty of them, in my early twenties. Mistakes that didn’t look like mistakes at the time, but they derailed me. Not that you’d know what that’s like,” he added pointedly. The satisfaction from that little dig settled nicely into his stomach.

“What, like I never made a mistake?” Faith asked. There wasn’t any accusation in her tone, just curiosity. For a split second, Alex felt badly for the assumption.

“Well, it certainly seems like you have it all together,” he said. He stared out at the water, unable to meet her eyes.

She laughed that tinkling giggle that made him weak. “Me? The only reason I majored in prelaw, then went to law school, is because my dad once said when he was pissed off at me that I’d never get in. I wanted to prove him wrong.”

“But you did, obviously,” Alex said.

“Yeah,” Faith agreed quietly. “That’s a lot of time, work, and money just to prove your daddy wrong.” She squinted into the lazy sun. “I had this dream, you know?”

“Like Martin Luther King?”

“No!” she said with a laugh. “I mean, I imagined my dad in the audience at law school graduation, and he’d be so proud. Like, he’d realize how wrong he was about me.”

“And?” Alex asked.

“How does that saying go?” Faith crunched down on the mint, and Alex could smell the rush of peppermint. “If you want to make God laugh, make plans? My dad died during my first year of law school. And we were as far apart as ever.”

“Yeah, I . . . I didn’t know that. When you first arrived. And when you told me the other day, I didn’t respond right,” Alex said. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “Don’t be. The past is the past. I just, you know, kind of have a chip on my shoulder about being told I can’t do something. Obviously. It makes me want to do it more.”

“But you still finished law school. Not just that, you’re an attorney. Surely you’re not still proving your dad wrong,” he said.

“I don’t know.” She gazed into the distance. “Maybe I am.”

“You sound like me, though,” Alex said. “The whole proving people wrong thing. At least, until a couple of years ago.”

Faith was quiet for a beat. “It must have been hard,” she said slowly. “Losing someone like that.”

He thought he’d feel that familiar pang in his chest, the one that came every time Rebecca’s death was mentioned. But it didn’t come. “It was,” he said. “And it wasn’t. And hell, the more I think about it, I don’t even know why I still carry a grudge against Lee. He never acted on how he felt about Rebecca, or nothin’. Matter of fact, probably did better than most, harboring that crush for so long. “

“I know exactly what you mean. About how we ‘should feel’ when we lose someone. I felt that way when my dad passed away.”

Alex looked at her and saw her face full of sincerity. She’s nothing if not truthful. Maybe she really did know how it felt. How it felt like you were just blundering along when people heaped how sorry they were onto you. Of course he wished Rebecca hadn’t died. Their relationship hadn’t always been so shitty—had it? There had to have been good times. He wished he could remember those.

But he also wished Lee hadn’t been in love with her, whether he could help it or not. Who the hell knows? Maybe it was just a little crush, not love at all. But he’d lugged that grudge against Lee around so long, it was a part of him now. He wished George and Rebecca hadn’t had that thing on the long weekend. But it was like as soon as someone died, they could do no wrong. Everything was forgiven, and the living were left to bear their crosses.

Alex’s gaze dipped down to Faith’s lips, glazed with a gloss and smelling of Christmas. He wished he’d had the time, the mind-set, to enjoy those lips the first time he’d tasted them. His eyes continued downward to her breasts. From this angle, he could see straight down the button-up gingham shirt to the pink lace bra below. Her cleavage was deep and deliciously tempting, though he was disappointed he couldn’t make out her nipples. When they’d hardened in that little swimsuit, he was so turned on he could almost taste them between his lips.

The urge to kiss her was almost unbearable. To nibble on those lips and run a thumb across her breasts. Hell, I even know what she tastes like. But this time it would be different. It wouldn’t be under the guise of a game or with Caleb and Matt cheering him on.

Alex leaned down and she tilted her head up. He watched her close her eyes, those thick lashes fluttered shut. But at the last second, when those lips he craved more than anything were only an inch away, he straightened up. “It’s gettin’ dark,” he said. “We better head back.”

He turned and stalked toward the inn before she could say anything or he could see the disappointment on her face. What’s the matter with me? She’s already nearly begged me once!

“Hey!” she called as she caught up to him. “What’s the matter? You—”

“I gotta get up early tomorrow,” he said.

“But—”

“C’mon, I’ll walk you back,” he said.

They didn’t say another word all the way back to the inn. He thought he saw someone, probably Mama, through the window, but he couldn’t be certain. The crickets had started to chirp, which helped ease the awkward silence.

“Well,” Faith said as they made their way onto the porch. “Thanks for . . .”

She couldn’t finish. Thanks for what? “Get some rest,” he said. For a moment, he felt like a teenager again. All left feet and in the spotlight below a girl’s front porch light. As much as he’d hated those years, it had been a long time since he’d felt that kind of flutter in his chest. And Faith looked so goddamned beautiful with the sun-kissed freckles across her nose.

“Rest,” she repeated, as if she really had to mull it over.

“Night,” he said and took off toward the cabin.

“Good night,” she called back. He heard the front door swing open and Mama’s voice asked how the sunset walk had been. Faith’s voice gushed, but by now he was too far away to make out the words.

Too far away, and the stiffness that ached in his jeans was so overwhelming it was all he could think about.