Chapter Four
Rhenn
We finish the rest of the tour rather quickly after that. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she didn’t know how to take my comment. Yes, the room was beautiful, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the elegant beauty that she possesses. Just looking at her makes me ache in places I have no business aching – and no, I’m not talking about the throb in my pants, though that has been prominent since the moment I laid eyes on her.
Marissa is stunning, and not in the fake, collagen-filled way I’m used to. She’s all sunlight and roses, while I’m more accustomed to leather and red lipstick. She couldn’t be any more different from the women I’m usually attracted to, but for some reason, I feel myself drawn to her like the tide to the shore.
Which is exactly why I need to keep my distance.
The last time I felt this kinda pull (the kind that doesn’t involve just my dick), I found myself in a serious relationship. It also went down faster than a barfly in a bathroom stall right before last call.
When we finally step outside, I can’t help but feel thankful for the fresh air. No, it’s wasn’t the soot-filled, smoke-lingering scents of the house that I couldn’t wait to get away from, but from her. Marissa. I could smell her everywhere we went. The cleanliness of her shampoo. The sweetness of her body lotion. It all fucked with my mind, making me want to explore every square inch of her body.
With my tongue.
Adjusting my pants as subtly as possible, I follow as she heads toward the tree line. I do everything I can to focus on our surroundings, yet my eyes still return to the gentle sway of her hips and the delicate roundness of her ass. It’s an ass that would fit perfectly in my palms – an ass that is made to be squeezed right as I drive myself deep inside her.
I groan. I can’t help it, nor can I stop the sound from falling from my lips. Marissa turns to face me. “Are you okay?” she asks, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
Fuck.
“Yeah,” I reply, giving no further explanation as I watch in complete fascination as she holds that plump lip between her teeth. She probably doesn’t even know she’s doing it. It’s not one of those fuck-me-now ploys that so many women do. She’s not doing it to catch my attention. She’s doing it because that’s what she does when she’s worried or nervous. She’s what every other woman in America tries to be, even though she does it so naturally, without even realizing it.
I’m so screwed.
Marissa begins to walk again, heading toward the clearing in the trees. She glances off to her right, and even though I caught sight of the small building out back, it’s the first time I really see it. It’s a cute little house, probably only one bedroom. It’s small and quaint, and exactly how I’d picture her place to be. Mary Ann mentioned Marissa lives on-site, but I didn’t really think too much about it.
Until now.
“That’s my place,” she says without stopping. She obviously saw me looking and isn’t offering me any further explanation.
“It’s nice,” I reply honestly, noticing the single rocking chair on the tiny porch. I can picture her sitting out there in the evening, watching as the sun dips behind the trees and the birds start to sing. She’d probably have a book in one hand and a hot cocoa in the other, and that’s another reason why I should be running in the other direction.
The temperature drops several degrees as we follow the path, stepping into the wooded area and in the shade. I have to take large steps to keep pace. For such a short thing, she’s got quite a long stride. Instantly, I think about her stamina. I bet she’s a wildcat in bed.
Not that I’ll ever find out.
I can hear the ocean before I see it. As soon as I reach the clearing, my feet hit sand and I stop in my tracks. The Atlantic Ocean spreads out as far as the eye can see. Even though I grew up on the Bay, it never ceases to amaze me at the tranquility and beauty of the ocean. It’s the main reason I purchased my boat as soon as I could afford it. The sea calls to me, like the waves call to a surfer. It’s in my blood, deep in my bones. It’s part of my survival.
Stepping up to the shore, I let the waves crash over my boots, not caring in the least bit about them getting wet. I have more pairs. I can already picture my Catalina anchored out about a hundred yards from the shore. There’s a small dock along the beach that I’ll be able to use to get back and forth, and the prospect of catching some sun on the deck has my blood pumping.
“How often do you sail?” Marissa asks, pulling my attention from the water before me.
“As often as possible, though that’s not nearly as often as I’d like.”
“Mom said you’re bringing your boat since no one has vacancies,” she says, stepping up beside me, her shoes and socks tossed up on the beach and her bare feet gingerly stepping into the cool surf.
“It’s a two thousand fifteen, thirty-eight foot Catalina sailboat that was built for speed. I purchased it for a steal during an ugly divorce, and there’s nothing better than stretching her legs on a Sunday afternoon in the open sea,” I tell her, gazing out at the water.
“Sounds nice. I’ve only been on a small sailboat once, but I got seasick.”
“I’ll take you,” I tell her before I can stop the words from flying from my trap.
She glances over at me with a look. “Did you not catch the part where I got seasick?”
“Ehh, you’ll be fine on Runaround Sue. She’s big enough that you won’t even feel the motion of the ocean.” Total lie, and by the look she’s giving me, she doesn’t buy it for a second. But something deep inside me pulls hard, and the need to have her on my boat is overwhelming.
“Runaround Sue?” she asks, a smile playing on her lips as she looks out at the ocean. “There’s a story there.”
I snort a laugh. “And maybe someday I’ll tell you,” I reply casually, stuffing my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“So you’re going to have to stay out there, right?” she asks, pointing out into the vast mass of water.
“Yeah, I should be able to drop anchor about a hundred or hundred-fifty yards out.”
“And then you’ll use your little dingy?” she asks innocently.
“Well, I’ve never had it referred to as little before,” I reply casually, biting my cheek to keep from smiling.
Her head whips around to face me as the most stunning red blush creeps up her neck and stains her entire face. Her hands come up to cover her mouth. “I didn’t…I mean, that’s not…Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that.”
I can’t help but laugh at her embarrassment and discomfort. “Yes, Marissa, I will use my little dingy to get from my boat to the shore. It’s actually a small, portable boat, made super lightweight and versatile.” And because I’m a total dog and player, I add, “And if you’re ever worried about the size of my other dingy, just let me know and I’ll be happy to show you.”
Marissa suddenly bursts out laughing and takes a swat at my arm. “Oh my God, that was the cheesiest and worst line I’ve ever heard. Does that garbage really work?” she asks through her fits of laughter.
The smile on my face is wide and easy. I’ve never – and I really do mean never – felt this comfortable with a woman in such a casual situation, especially one I met less than thirty minutes ago. Hell, most of the time I’m only after one thing (and so are they). There’s no small talk, no banter. Just flirting and sex.
But with Marissa, I find myself wanting to talk.
Talk.
Who the hell am I?
“Actually, most of the time, I’m not the one with the lines,” I tell her honestly, throwing in a smile and a wink just for good measure.
“I don’t doubt it,” she mumbles and turns back to the ocean.
We stand there in comfortable silence for much longer than I would have anticipated. It’s a little too cozy, though, and the need to run from the unfamiliar feelings starts to take hold. That’s exactly why I need to leave. Get away from this gorgeous woman. Head into town and find someone a little more my…taste.
“Well, I should head out,” I say, taking a step back and pulling her attention my way once more. I can practically tell she’s shutting down on me. Her arms come up to hold themselves at her waist and her face turns polite. Almost too polite. Fake, even.
“Of course. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” she says brightly, though the green sparkle in her eyes seems just a fraction duller.
Is it wrong that I wish she were looking at me once more with that bright shimmer, that bubbly personality I try to avoid at all costs?
Yes, it’s wrong.
But that doesn’t stop me from wanting it.
“Tomorrow,” I confirm before turning and heading back the way we came.
Just as I reach the tree line, I turn to see if she’s following me. She’s not. Marissa stands at the shoreline still, gazing out at miles and miles of ocean, a look of sadness on her beautiful face. Something pulls deeply in my chest as I take in her posture, her demeanor…her loneliness. It calls to me like a siren, familiar and unafraid.
I know sadness.
I know loneliness.
That’s why I drop my head and turn away. That’s why I practically run back to my truck to get as far away from this woman, this temptation, as possible. Because for the first time in…forever, I want to turn around. I want to wrap my arms around her petite body and make her smile that awe-inspiring smile once more. I want to wipe those smudges of soot from her cheeks moments before my lips find hers. I want…more.
And I can’t have more.
Never again.
More hurts.
* * *
I open the heavy wooden door to a place called The Station. The familiar neon glow of beer signs and liquor displays surrounds me the moment I walk in. Maroon 5 plays from the jukebox in the corner, and a handful of patrons turn to see who enters. There’s not too many people, mostly guys actually, and I can already sense that tonight is going to be a bust.
Walking up to the weathered bar, I pull out a stool and toss my wallet on the bar top. A woman about the same age as my own thirty-five years walks my way, a friendly smile playing on her lips. It’s not flirty, nor is her gait overly seductive. I’ve been in my fair share of bars where the bartender swings her hips so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t throw out a hip. Hell, I’ve even capitalized on several of those moments, enjoying the fuck out of a ten-minute ‘break’ in the back room.
But not this woman. Her hair is pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail at the nape of her neck and her shirt only gives the faintest hint of cleavage. Her jeans fit her body, but don’t look painted on. Before she even reaches me, I know she won’t fit the bill for what I have in mind later. This woman probably has a husband at home; maybe even two point five kids and a dog named Sparky.
“What can I getcha?” she asks, that polite smile stretching across straight white teeth.
“Coors Light bottle, if you have it,” I answer, omitting my standard “sugar” reference and a wink.
“Coming right up,” she replies, turning and grabbing a bottle from the cooler behind her. It only takes her a matter of seconds before the top is twisted off and the bottle is placed on a coaster in front of me.
“Thanks,” I say before taking a long pull from the bottle.
“I’ll be back shortly to check on ya,” she adds politely before walking back down to the other end of the bar.
My attention turns to the handful of men watching a baseball game on the television. They’re cheering for the Braves, discussing the season thus far, and talking trash about the opponent. My kinda crowd.
In fact, it doesn’t go unnoticed how comfortable I find myself feeling, not only in this small bar tucked away off the main square, but also in this town. Shit, I felt more at ease walking around the bed and breakfast with Marissa than I ever thought I would, and I was only with her for a short time.
Marissa.
That’s a twist I wasn’t expecting.
She’s nothing like the women I usually find myself attracted to, and even though I could tell there was some attraction there, she didn’t throw herself at me, which is a refreshing change. She would be a challenge, for sure, but one I shouldn’t take. The only thing I should do is turn and walk in the other direction. I’m against everything she represents: monogamy, happily ever after, and a family. It’s practically written all over her beautiful face, and that’s the reason I need to step away.
We don’t want the same things.
But…what if we did?
I shake that fan-fucking-tastic image out of my mind because as much as I’d love to engage in a romp or two with Marissa between the sheets, I just don’t think it’s in the cards. Even if it would be dynamic, earthshaking, and mutually satisfying (and I have no doubt that it would be), I just don’t see it playing out that way. She’s not that kinda girl…
I can always tell.
And that kinda sucks.
The door opens and I find myself turning with the rest of the patrons. Expecting a few more guys looking to enjoy a few beers and watch the game away from the wife and kids, I’m pleasantly surprised when two women walk in, wide smiles and full of laughter, and make their way toward where I sit at the bar.
“Mara!” the shorter of the two says as they take the two empty seats to my right.
“Well, my night just took a turn for the better…” I mumble to no one in particular.
“This seat taken, Cowboy?” a tall, leggy redhead says as she slides onto the barstool beside me.
“Only by you,” I reply as her friend takes the seat on the other side of her.
“Thought you’d be here an hour ago,” the bartender I now know as Mara says with a bright smile as she comes over to where we sit, two bottles of light beer already in her hands.
“Not my fault. Inventory took longer than anticipated. I have very quickly run out of space and we couldn’t find two boxes of those new negligées that I just got in,” the redhead says, grabbing my attention the moment she utters the word negligées.
“They were those sexy navy ones too,” the friend chimes in, taking a drink from her bottle.
“Like the red one I got?” Mara says, absently wiping the bar top off with a rag.
“Yes! That one! What did Brent think of it when you showed him?” the redhead asks between drinks.
“There wasn’t one word spoken, believe it or not,” Mara replies, her cheeks turning pink and her grin pretty much confirming exactly what Brent’s reaction was to seeing her in whatever red negligée his wife wore home.
The three girls start to giggle, but not in that fake giggle I’m accustomed to hearing. This is a shared laugh amongst friends and the camaraderie makes a smile spread across my own face.
“So, will there be a fashion show later tonight I need to sign up for, or are we just talking about the merchandise this evening?” I ask, popping a few pieces of popcorn into my mouth. All three women seem to finally realize they’re not alone in their conversation and turn toward me. “I’m free later, just to be clear.”
The redhead’s eyebrow shoots upward before she gives me a smug grin. “I just bet you are,” she teases, a wide smile playing on her plump red lips, revealing straight white teeth.
“Rhenn,” I announce, holding out my hand.
“Harper,” she replies, placing her slender, soft hand in my own and giving it a gentle shake. Even though she’s gorgeous with a capital G, I feel absolutely nothing when we touch.
Pity.
“And I’m Free,” the friend states, her bangle bracelets jingling as she reaches around Harper and offers me her hand.
“Free?”
“Short for Freedom, love. Maybe if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you ring my bell,” she adds boldly, a playful gleam in her dark eyes. Even though her come-on is written in Sharpie marker, it’s as fake as they come. She might be toying with me, but she’s not really hitting on me.
“Something tells me I’d be way out of my league with you, Free,” I reply, tipping my beer bottle back once more.
“I don’t doubt it, love,” she says, reaching around her friend and taking a handful of the popcorn in front of me. “So, what brings you to town?”
“Work.”
“Of course,” Free says. “What is it? Freelance journalism or espionage?”
Leaning closer to Harper, I catch a subtle trace of something sweet, with a hint of floral. I’ll give it to her: she’s gorgeous and smells good. But before I can even consider the other places that Harper might smell good, a certain blonde with dirty smudges on her lightly freckled cheeks filters through my mind. I caught several whiffs of Marissa earlier, and it was enough to drive a sober man to drink. She’s like a rain shower after a long drought. She’s pure temptation, which is why I’m here, trying to find a little mindless distraction.
It’s also not working out for me.
While both Harper and Free are beautiful in their own unique ways, I can tell already that it’s not happening. Harper looks about as interested in me as she does with the old man down at the opposite end of the bar, which is a shame, really, because she’s stunning and spunky – a combination that usually gets my blood flowing south of the belt line and ensures a damn good time between the sheets. Free, on the other hand, while definitely a bit more flirty, but in that ‘friend zone’ way.
I hate that fucking zone.
I’m sure with a little bit of work and a little extra Rhenn Burleski charm, I could have her in my bed tonight, but that familiar desire to chase just isn’t present. Why? No fucking clue, but I have a feeling it has something to do with those damn freckles I was thinking about earlier.
My mind falls back to the women before me, and I have to think hard to recall Free’s question. “Espionage. Definitely espionage,” I reply, leaning forward so that I’m super close to Harper. “But don’t tell anyone, all right?”
Free leans just as close to her friend, her eyes squinting under the fluorescent lighting. “Or you’d have to kill me?”
“’Fraid so, Free. And I’d hate to have to kill two beautiful women such as yourselves.”
Harper snorts and takes a drink of her beer. “Does that line really work too?”
“You wound me, Harper.”
“I’m sure your ego will pad your fall,” she sasses, bringing an instant smile to my face.
“Don’t mind her. She’s going through her angry at all men phase,” Free offers, shoulder bumping her friend.
“It’s not a phase. I’m angry at all men,” Harper argues.
“What did we all do?” I ask, finishing off my beer and placing the empty on the bar.
“You all cheat. You’re all horny, spineless assholes who can’t keep it zipped in your pants,” Harper practically growls.
“Well, you are partially right,” I state, leaning toward Harper. Her light eyes turn dark with hurt and fury. Clearly this is a fresh wound and no amount of defending my species is going to rectify the situation. “We are horny and we are assholes, but most of us aren’t spineless. Most of us wouldn’t take the chance at hurting the most gorgeous woman in our life for a five-minute romp in what was probably a bar bathroom, no offense,” I add, giving Mara a look. “That’s not a man, sweetheart, that’s a coward. You have no room or time in your life for cowards. So drink up, dust off those dancin’ shoes, and push that loser out of your mind and your heart. You don’t have the time or energy for someone who doesn’t appreciate exactly what he has in front of him,” I state boldly.
Her eyes fill with unshed tears, and I’m instantly sorry I said anything. It’s not my place, nor do I know anything about the situation. Then there’s the fact that I hate tears. H.A.T.E. them. Suzanne used to whip them out all the time to get what she wanted, and I’m pretty sure I became desensitized over the course of our long ago relationship.
“You know what?” Harper asks, steeling her back and turning to face me. “You’re completely right. What kind of loser screws the known town bar whore in the men’s bathroom of the joint his girlfriend’s friend owns?”
I glance at Mara, who just gives me a small grin.
Wow, totally called it.
“Someone not worth another second of your time or tears,” I confirm.
“You’re right!” she hollers, grabbing the shot glass Mara sets in front of her. “Let’s get drunk, Cowboy. Maybe, if you play your cards right, you’ll get lucky in the bathroom of the bar my friend owns.”
I chuckle and reach for my own shot glass. I know that if I wanted this to happen, it would. But there’s something in her eyes that tells me a mindless fuck in the men’s bathroom wouldn’t really help her situation in the long run. Sure, an orgasm would be nice (and let’s face it, I know how to provide the O’s), but she’ll still wake up in the morning hungover and alone.
And even though I just met this woman, that’s not what I want for her.
That’s why I tap my shot glass against hers, throw back the liquid, and stand from my stool. Reaching into my wallet, I grab a few bills and toss them onto the worn bar top, making sure to not only pay for all of the drinks, but a nice little tip for Mara too.
Harper glances my way, while Free plays on her phone. “You’re leaving?”
“’Fraid so, sugar I have an early day tomorrow, and the last thing I want to do is something you’ll regret in the morning.” I should win a fucking medal for walking away from this woman. She’s beautiful, but she’s hurting, and I really think sleeping with her would be a bad idea.
Look at me, all grown up and shit.
She gazes up at me, studying my face. It’s a bit unnerving, like I’m under a microscope or something. “Thank you, Rhenn,” she says with the tiniest hint of a smile. I turn to leave, but her next words stop me in my tracks. “My sister’s right. You are gorgeous.”
Considering I’ve only met about half a dozen people since arriving in Rockland Falls earlier today (and many of them old enough to be my parents), her comment has my full attention. When I turn back around, she’s watching me over her shoulder. I take a step back in her direction as she slowly turns on her stool to face me. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” I reply, placing my hands in my pockets and rocking back on my heels.
Her manicured eyebrows arch skyward and a full smile plays on her lips. “My sister just so happened to mention that she met the new electrician today. I could tell by the way she didn’t really want to talk about you that something was up.” Her eyes drop to my boots as she slowly peruses her way back up to my face. “Now I know why she was so flustered when she talked about you.”
The corner of my mouth turns upward as I invade her personal space. I place a kiss on her cheek, much like I would a friend or family member. “Thank you, Harper.”
“Don’t hurt her or I’ll cut off your balls and feed them to my pit bull, Snuggles,” she adds, making me wince and my balls to shrivel up just a little bit.
“Sounds pleasant,” I reply as I step away.
“It will be…to watch,” she sasses before reaching for her beer bottle.
“So noted. Have a good night,” I reply to the group before turning and heading out the front door.
The night is cool, the air a bit salty from the ocean. I can’t hear the waves crashing on the shore, but I know they’re there, lurking in the dark. It calls to me, which is why I find myself turning and walking the few blocks toward the sea, and not to my truck parked in the lot beside The Station. My mind is full of images, ones I’ve been trying to avoid all night.
Marissa.
Small world that the woman I was chatting up at the bar is the sister of the one I can’t stop thinking about. Good thing I didn’t shag the hell out of her in the bathroom, huh? The fact I didn’t is very un-Rhenn like, but the fact I care I didn’t, is even more so. Would I have? Maybe. Harper is definitely a looker, and in any other situation, I may have very well taken her up on her offer.
But the offer wasn’t really on the table.
She knew who I was, and even though she offered a quick fuck to help alleviate the pain she was in, I could see it in her eyes: she wasn’t really interested.
Now I know why.
Standing along the beach, I watch as the water moves tiny granules of sand, pushing them farther onto the shore and then washing them out to sea. I can’t wait to get my boat. It’s part of me, like an extension of my arm. I’ve never felt so alive as I do with my hands on the wheel and the sun on my face.
And even though I pushed the earlier thought out of my mind, I can’t help but picture Marissa there with me. Sunbathing on the deck, her slender fingers gripping the wheel, a tiny bikini barely covering my favorite parts of a woman. But something tells me she’s not a dental floss bikini kind of woman, and even that image turns my cock to stone in my pants.
There’s something alluring and enchanting about this woman, and even though I know I should stay away, I know I won’t.
I can’t.
Because she calls to me just as much as the sea.