Chapter Seven

Landon

 

I cut the engine to my Tahoe 215 Deck boat in time for some of the residual cloud cover to clear. The waves were choppy when we first set out, and I wasn’t sure the weather would hold, but the further we sped away from the shore, the more the clouds thin out and our ride smooths out.

The sunlight breaking through turns the lingering gray clouds silver and sets Luci’s stunning eyes aglow. They’re lavender. I thought they were light blue and only appeared lavender because of her dress. But this morning, I have a better view, and I swear it’s a view I don’t want to give up. I ease the boat’s speed and bring her to full stop.

“You okay?” I ask, as I reach into the bin for the anchor.

She turns her attention away from the horizon. “Depends, is this where you take all your victims?”

I pretend to give it some though. “No, I usually go a few more miles out. It’s what all the real pirates do.”

She tilts her head. “So now you’re a real pirate?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I lunge a little deeper. “Didn’t you get a good look at my booty?”

Her laughter is as contagious as her smile, stirring my grin as I drop anchor. I pull out the fishing rods and equipment from the storage compartments on the starboard side, setting up everything we’ll need between the two plush fishing seats fixed to the stern.

I return to her side, not that she seems to notice.

Luci told me she’s never been on a boat unless you count the Staten Island Ferry. I told her we’re not counting the ferry, not out here. But even if she hadn’t told me, I would have guessed as much by the way she looks at the ocean as if it’s her first time seeing it.

Her fascination with our surroundings gives me a long few seconds to take her in. The coat I gave her is a heavy one, stuffed with goose feathers. She had to roll the top of the sweatpants I offered half a dozen times before they’d stay put on her tiny waist. She’s in a pair of thick socks and an old pair of boat shoes Trin left behind.

The collar of the life jacket is almost up to her chin. Everything is so big and cushioned on her, she has trouble moving. But I didn’t want her cold and I definitely want her safe.

She adjusts the beanie on her head, appearing to finally notice I’m right here beside her. “It’s so pretty out here,” she says staring out at the horizon. “I can see why you love it so much.”

“What do you think of my yacht?”

“It’s really nice,” she says. Her hands smooth over the gunwale. “I can see you take great care of it.”

I meant the yacht comment as a joke seeing it’s just an amped up deck boat. But Luci doesn’t seem to know the difference and even if she did, she doesn’t strike me as someone who complains.

She’s sweet and friendly, a good-hearted kind of woman. I was starting to think they didn’t exist anymore. Luci proved there are still a few out there and reminded me what a precious find they are.

When I first saw her last night I thought she was a pretty young thing. But the more time we spent, pretty morphed into sexy damn quick and it didn’t have anything to do with the booze we were drinking. She’s fun, and I’ve had fun with her.

I didn’t want her to leave when her friend called, but I also didn’t want her to think I was keeping her just to have sex. Everything’s closed today, and since I hadn’t planned on company, I didn’t have much in my fridge except the leftover pizza I’d ordered earlier in the week and some frozen pot pies that have seen better days. We had two choices: take a chance on the pizza and pot pies or go fishing. We decided on the latter. Based on the way she’s mesmerized by the waves and all the splendor, it’s already been worth the ride.

I offer her my hand. “Come on,” I say.

She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know about this, Landon.”

“What’s wrong? You seemed excited back at the house.”

She looks past me and to the chairs fixed on the stern. “They don’t have seatbelts,” she points out.

“Boats generally don’t. Are you afraid you’re going to fall in?”

“Yes,” she admits.

“I promise I won’t let you, but in the off chance you do, I also promise to save you.”

Her brows crinkles as she focuses on the chair. “I’ll feel bad if you have to dive in after me.”

It’s what she says, but she still takes my hand, allowing me to help her onto the stern and into the seat. I set the bait on her pole and cast the line. I’m not trying to show off, but am more than pleased by how far it soars.

Apparently, so is Lucy. “Wow,” she says. “I take it you fish a great deal?”

“It’s the southern boy’s yoga.”

Her laugh drifts into the air like a gentle breeze passing along the waves. She stops laughing when I offer her the pole. “It’s okay,” I tell her, “I’ll talk you through everything.”

She takes it hesitantly from my grip, eyeing me as I cast out my line. I plop down beside her, trying not to chuckle. She’s gripping the pole with both hands, more tense than she was when she first walked into the party last night.

Damn, she’s cute . . . and beautiful . . . and I should work on not gawking at her like a fool.

“Should I put on some music?” she offers. She bats at her coat, searching for her phone.

Good luck with all those layers, sweet thing. I grin, thinking it’s best not to overdo the teasing. “No, the fish don’t like it.”

“Okay,” she says. “So, what do we do?”

“We wait, and hopefully snag us some dinner.”

“All right.” She adjusts her position in the seat, stealing a peak overboard. “You’ll really save me if I fall in?”

“I will,” I assure her.

“But who will save you?” she asks, appearing nervous.

I hook my arm around her shoulders and kiss the top of her head. “Don’t worry about it. I used to lifeguard and was an endurance athlete for about five years.”

“Of course you were,” she says smiling.

I chuckle. “Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”

She purses her lips, appearing to hesitate to tell me what she’s thinking. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re too good to be true?”

I lose my grin real fast. Luci doesn’t notice, her stare intent as she watches her line bob along the waves. “You volunteered all over the world to help those in need, are a successful engineer, who’s not only attractive, but just so happens to be an endurance athlete. I swear, Landon, if you tell me you foster abandoned puppies and kittens, read to the elderly at the local senior citizen’s center in your spare time, or are secretly developing the cure for cancer in your basement, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Nah, I don’t have a basement.”

I mean to make her laugh and move on, but she neither smiles nor laughs when she takes in my features. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I reply, blowing off her comment.

Her gaze dances along my face. “Something is.” Her voice trails as she latches onto something despite how I think I keep my expression fairly neutral. “I’m sorry, Landon, I didn’t mean to offend you. I just—”

“You didn’t offend me,” I say, cutting her off. “I just . . . you’re giving me too much credit, is all.”

“No, I’m not,” she adds quietly.

Her tone trickles with sadness, but I’m not sure that sadness comes from something she senses in me or something that belongs solely to her. I don’t know her well enough to ask, but I want to.

“Are you happy?” I ask her.

A tiny little crease forms between her eyebrows when she frowns. She’s probably wondering why I asked or assuming I’m trying to switch the focus off of me. I’ll admit, she’s not far off if that’s what she’s thinking. She takes her time answering, not too much where the minutes pass, just long enough that I can already guess the answer.

“There are a lot of good things in my life,” she replies.

“And maybe some not so good things?” I ask.

Her voice is so gentle, I barely hear it. “Yes.”

“I think I know what you mean,” I say.

Thinking about everything that went wrong last year often consumes me, to the point I’m sure I’ll go insane. More often, those memories leave me bitter, or worse yet, numb. I hate those moments, and those feelings. But today, the bitterness and numbness pass me by, and that overwhelming sense stays far away.

I reach for Lucy as she leans in, meeting her with a kiss that grows teasing. She laughs.

“Why are you laughing?” I ask.

“Your whiskers tickle my lips,” she says, giving my beard a stroke.

“Just your lips?” I ask.

Her lids close, and her voice tightens. “Mm, maybe not just my lips,” she confesses.

“No?” I kiss her again. “Then what else?”

Her cheeks redden in that way that drives me wild. “I’ll leave that to your imagination,” she says. She scoots back into her seat, grinning at me with a shy smile.

“Really?” I ask. “I don’t know, I have a big imagination. You sure you want me to go there?”

She curls forward, the motion bunching her layers and shielding her face. “Oh, goodness,” she says, shoving the heavy layers down.

I think she’s annoyed, but as her face appears I catch sight of her widening smile. She settles back into her seat, content.

That’s how I like her, happy, even though like me, there are parts not to be happy about. Again, that negativity I’ve felt doesn’t quite come, at least not here with Luci.

I recline in my seat, trying not to inundate her. I don’t want her to think she’s stuck having sex with me all weekend, not that I’d mind if that’s what she wants to do. But I’d hate for her to think she has to do it.

Last night, when I entered Becca’s house, staying was the last thing on my mind. Scratch that, finding someone to go home with, that was the last thing on my mind. But the more time I spent with Luci, the more she became what I wanted.

I’m trying not to think about how it felt to have my soapy hands pass along her breasts during our shower, how her hands slid along the tile as I pumped into her, or how she wrenched her neck to hang tight to our kiss. But I’ve realized it’s hard not to think about Luci period.

She hangs on every word I say like it’s the most important thing in the world, laughing at all the right moments, and appreciating the silence when it comes.

How is it possible I’ve known her less than a day? And how am I going to let her go?

I keep waiting to piss her off, or for her to do something that annoys me. Hell, even the woman I married managed both the same day we met, and the second, and probably every day after that.

My thoughts wander to what should have been brunch, but turned into lunch since we spent so much time in the shower. Luci walked into the kitchen in one of my T-shirts and the sweatpants I’d given her. I was whipping up an omelet, but stopped when she strolled in.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” she said, pointing behind her. “I took the staircase in the front hall. I didn’t know there was another one that led directly into the kitchen.” She seemed uncomfortable as she looked around, like she was somehow intruding or shouldn’t be there, even though nothing was further from the truth. “You have a lovely home,” she added, her voice quivering slightly.

“Thank you,” I told her. For a minute I tensed, waiting for her to ask me how much money I make or how much the house cost. It’s something I was asked by a lot of women when I went out on my own and started bringing them home.

Luci didn’t ask. “Do you need help?” she offered instead.

“No, I’m good.”

She took a seat in front of me, her attention trailing to the deck and to the ocean. “If you want, you can take a look around,” I offered.

“Only if you want to show me.”

“What?” I asked. Her voice was soft, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t heard her. I was just used to people jumping at the chance to look around.

“I said I’ll look if you show me.” She smiled. “But I’d rather stay here with you.”

I’d rather stay here with you, I repeat in my head. If I’m being honest, it’s the best damn thing she could have said.

The strong whirling sound has me jerking in her direction. “It’s doing something,” she says, clutching the handle as the reel spins out of control. “Landon, it’s doing something.”

I toss my pole onto the deck, scrambling behind her and helping her secure the reel. “Take it,” she insists, trying to pass me the rod.

“Shhh,” I murmur against her ear. “It’s okay, you’ve got this.”

“I really don’t,” she says, her voice close to a whimper.

“Yeah, you do,” I assure her. “Come on, reel it in.”

I guide her with my hands. It’s moments like this when I press against her that I’m reminded how tiny Luci is. Even with all this padding, I sense her fragility beneath the layers and the vulnerability that teeters so close to the surface.

I suppose that’s why I wrap around her like armor, trying to shield her from harm, despite that she’s made it this long without me.

The line jerks and I lean her back. Whatever she caught is putting up a hell of a fight. I’ve fished ever since I was old enough to hold a pole. In fact, there’s a picture of me when I was about two, perched on my father’s lap with my lure in the water.

If I wanted to, I’d already have the fish in a bucket and speeding back to shore. But this is Luci’s catch and her moment. I’m making sure she gets both.

“What if it’s a shark?” she asks, her eyes wide as the pole bends and whatever she caught pulls harder.

“Then we’re about to be eaten,” I whisper.

“You’re not funny!” she says when I crack up.

“Dun-dun,” I sing. “Dun-dun-dun-dun.”

“Landon!” she squeals, all the while laughing.

“Baby, you’ve got this.” I should focus and reel faster. Except she’s so fucking adorable, I take a moment to kiss her cheek. “Come on. That there’s our dinner.”

“Are you sure nothing is open?” she asks. “Chick-fil-A? Or Wendy’s? A burger would be nice.”

“I promise you, nothing is going to taste as good as this.” I help her crank the reel harder. “Hang on. Here it comes.”

Holy shit. We pull what’s easily an eight-pound trout out of the water and onto the boat.

“Omigod. Omigod. Oh. My. God!” Luci is running in place, her hands shaking, unsure what to do.

I take over, lifting the fish up and hopping down to place it into the bucket. “Damn, woman,” I say, taking in the size of the fish. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

She stares at the bucket from her position on the stern, watching it rattle. “I caught a fish,” she says like she can hardly believe it. She stumbles back into the boat, losing her footing and crashing on top of me.

She knocks us both down. I barely keep her from smacking her head. “You all right?”

Instead of answering me, she leans in and kisses me, her enthusiasm evident in the way she opens and closes her mouth. I chuckle as she pulls away. “I guess you are.”

Her entire face is brighter than a collection of stars on a warm summer night and her smile as brilliant as the moon itself. “I caught a fish!” she says, beaming.

Yeah, she did. What she doesn’t know is that she also captured my heart.