Chapter Three
Nine Years Ago
“What’s her name again?” I whispered, sipping on the straw of a monster-size slushie. One of the true benefits of going to the movies. Along with popcorn and air-conditioning, of course. Saturday had turned grossly hot, and all the ceiling fans at home could do was push around the hot air. Dad was at home, working on a quote for a job. When Pete called and suggested a film, I jumped at the chance. There’d been no mention, though, of him bringing someone. Not that I was jealous exactly, because that would be dumb.
“Already told you her name twice, kid.”
“Yeah, but she’s like the third one in as many weeks,” I said. “It gets confusing trying to remember them all.”
He did a one-shoulder shrug. “I have a lot of friends.”
“Sure. You’re a friendly guy.”
“Yes, I am.”
“It’s been fifteen minutes,” I said. “What do you think she’s doing, full hair and makeup? A spray tan? What?”
A faint smile curved Pete’s lips. “Shut up and watch the movie.”
“I think the vampires freaked her out.”
“Are you going to talk the whole way through?”
“Maybe.”
“Christ. You chose this one just to mess with me, didn’t you?” he asked, forehead all bunched up at the sight of Bella and Edward exchanging fervent, heated looks onscreen.
“Should you really be letting a sixteen-year-old decide what movies you take your dates to, though?” I asked back, voice low. Though there weren’t many people in the cinema. The film had already been out for a few weeks. “I think that’s the real question here.”
“It’s not a date. We’re just friends.”
“What did you say her name was again?”
“Shh. I’m trying to concentrate.”
“Want me to tell you what happens next?” I asked. “I already read the books like a dozen times.”
He just threw popcorn at me.
“How rude.” I brushed it off my lap. “You know, I have a theory.”
“And what might that be?”
“That you’re basically using me as a chaperone.”
He blinked. “I’m what?”
“With these women,” I said, shaking my head because duh. “I mean, with me along, they can’t get all serious on you or anything. No chance for a ‘where are we headed, let’s discuss our commitment level’ type talk. You’re totally using me as a chaperone. It’s diabolical, really. I mean, you get the good-guy points for taking pity on me. But you also have a reason to keep your latest friend at a distance. Given the amount of friends and the rate at which you go through them, it makes sense. Admit it.”
“I admit nothing.” He snorted. “Maybe I just like your company. I mean, you’re funny sometimes. You don’t completely suck.”
“Thanks.”
“Now you compliment me.”
“Nah,” I said. “Pretty sure your ego is big enough as it is.”
More popcorn flew my way.
“For a thirty-one-year-old, you can be quite immature at times, Peter.”
“For a sixteen-year-old, you can be quite a brat, Adele.”
Then he smiled, easy as that. I couldn’t help but smile back.
Unfortunately, his date returned at that point. We sat in silence, eyes on the screen. Movies weren’t nearly as much fun when Pete and I weren’t whispering crap at each other.
Wednesday Night . . . Now
Sleep just hadn’t come after that dinner. I’d lain awake for an hour or so, staring out into the dark, my mind racing in circles. Heat pressed down on me, my pillow damp from the sweat on the back of my neck. I could turn on the air-conditioning, but I’d kind of missed the weird little night noises and the scent of the frangipani outside.
Eventually, I gave up and got up.
There was enough ambient light for me not to need to turn a light on. I changed into my bathing suit, grabbed a towel, and made my way out onto the deck, then down the back stairs. Overhead hung an almost full moon, everything perfectly, peacefully quiet. Almost.
“Shit!” I yelped at the sight of someone in the water. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Assumed that,” he mumbled.
My heart beat double time. Fear in general, or fear of him, I wasn’t sure. “Would you rather be alone or am I allowed to swim?”
“You’re an adult. You’re allowed to do whatever the hell you want.”
“And yet it’s your house,” I pointed out. “I’m just the unwelcome guest.”
“You’re not unwelcome, exactly.”
“Yeah . . . not convincing.”
Great. I dumped my towel on a wooden bench and made my way over to test the water temperature with my toes. A little cool, but not cold. Butt on the edge, I eased myself into the pool. I quietly gasped when the water slid over my chest and up to my neck. Perky nipples, but never mind. What the bikini didn’t cover, the low lighting would. God, it felt good to evade the heat for a while.
“You never would just jump,” he said.
“I like to know what I’m getting into.”
He swam to the side, where a glass and a bottle of scotch waited. “Only got the one glass, but I’ll share if you want.”
“Scotch tastes like ass.”
A chuckle.
“Is that really safe, swimming and drinking on your own?”
“I know what I can handle,” said Pete. “And desperate times, desperate measures.”
And I was welcome, my butt. People always make young love seem like this wonderful thing. Something to be treasured. But the truth is, it sucks. Because of that first love, you just might get to spend the rest of your life looking for that person in others . . .
After Shanti’s reaction and Dad’s words, however, I was pretty much over the self-flagellation aspect of mine and Pete’s relationship. Same went for his bad-tempered bullshit and unwillingness to move on. I was done. Seriously. Full on. Done. “Oh, go fuck yourself.”
“What did you say?”
“You know, Pete, it was seven long years ago,” I said. Ranted. Whatever. “I behaved like a dumb kid and I’ve acknowledged that. I’ve apologized many, many times.”
He wiped a hand over his wet face. “Did you actually just tell me to go fuck myself?”
“This is ridiculous. If you really can’t make even a small attempt at forgiving, or at least pretending to forget, I’ll go sleep on Dad’s couch or something.” I turned, making for the stairs.
“You can’t just wake up your dad and Shanti in the middle of the night.”
“So I’ll sleep in my car.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.” I climbed to the top of the pool steps, stopping to wring out the back of my hair. “Life is too short. And just for record, it’s not like I got out of that situation unscathed. I lost my best friend and got banished from a place I loved. Not exactly my idea of a good time.”
“Kid, wait.” He stood at the bottom of the steps, still almost waist deep in water. And I could have done without an updated visual of how good he looked half-naked. The pecs and the flat stomach and the start of the vee of his hips leading into his board shorts. God help me, he even had a happy trail. My sex dreams of him were lurid enough without all the detail, thank you very much. You’d have thought after so long my imagination would have moved on to different fodder. But no such luck. Guess my imagination lacked imagination. It’s like my brain and vagina had gotten stuck way back when. He’d imprinted on me. It was beyond my control.
“I think this is a big part of the problem,” I said. “You see, I’m not a kid anymore.”
“No shit.”
“What? Was I not supposed to grow up?”
Then he glared at my body as if it personally offended him. Jesus. The bikini wasn’t that skimpy.
“God, you’re right.” I sighed. “I should have left my breasts at home. How thoughtless. I’m so sorry. My bad, Pete.”
He snorted. “You’re not funny.”
Huh. “Was that a sort of laugh? I’m glad to see that you’re able to get in touch with your own crazy regarding this particular situation.”
“My own crazy?” He scrunched up his face. “I don’t even know what you’re on about. Get back in the water.”
“No.”
“Adele, please. If you want, we’ll talk about it,” he said, looking off into the darkness. “Get back in the water.”
“My body offends you?”
“Give me strength,” he muttered, before climbing the steps toward me. “No, your body does not offend me. But I think I saw enough of your breasts on your eighteenth birthday to last a lifetime.”
I held out a hand. “Hey, respect my personal space. Back up.”
“No.”
Next thing I knew, he’d lifted me up in his arms and thrown my ass out into the middle of the pool. I surfaced, gasping and spluttering. “You asshole!”
He gracefully dived back in and the second he surfaced, I splashed water in his face. Thus began a war I was probably always destined to lose on account of his superior muscle mass, and the size of his big-ass hands. But obviously I had to start it, because a splash-fight is the only reasonable way to respond to one’s maturity being brought into question.
“Stop it. Stop!” I turned to the side, trying to shield my thoroughly soaked self. Hell, trying to get my wet hair out of my eyes so I could see. “I hate you.”
He sighed, relaxing back in the water. “Yeah. I hate you too.”
I paused. “Do you really?”
“No.” More sighing. “Stay, please.”
“You’ll stop giving me shit?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try.” He headed back to his scotch glass. “You going to keep your shirt on?”
“I’d planned to. Swimwear’s exempt, of course.”
Some grumbling. No idea what he said.
I took the opportunity to catch my breath, floating on my back, watching the night sky. And I could feel his gaze on me, but whatever. My breasts were in no way responsible for his moody disposition. He and his pretty face could own his attitude flaws without my help. Temporarily at least, perhaps this could work. Long enough to see Shanti and Dad married. I hoped.
Pete said something, but the words were muffled with my ears underwater. I resurfaced, swimming closer. “What?”
He watched me from the side of the pool, blue-gray eyes mysterious in the shadows. “Your best friend, huh?”
“You were.” I shrugged.
“What about people your own age down south?” he asked. “Thought you had friends at school.”
“I had a couple. Sure.” My hands gripped the stone siding, keeping me afloat. “No one I could talk to like I did with you. You didn’t judge me or anything. I could just . . . I felt more comfortable with you.”
Silence.
“Probably drove you nuts listening to me prattle on.”
“No,” he said. “Not that you didn’t come out with some crazy shit, sometimes. God, some of your brilliant ideas . . . but I always liked listening to you talk.”
“Nobody made you attend the Star Wars marathon twice with me.”
“It was just those first three—”
I held up a hand. “I’ll admit, my pubescent affection for Hayden Christensen may have led me astray, somewhat.”
“Kid, you thought Jar Jar Binks was funny.”
“Hey,” I snapped. “Take that back. I never said that. No one in their right mind thinks that.”
He took a sip of whisky. Pretty sure he was using the cut crystal glass to hide a small smile.
Lazily, I kicked my feet in the water. Not being a puddle of sweat felt seriously good. “Are you really going to keep calling me ‘kid’?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, old man.”
“You always were a brat. No idea why I put up with you.” He splashed some water my way. But his heart wasn’t in it, you could tell. “If you don’t drink scotch, what do you drink?”
“Gin.”
A nod. “What’d you think of Shanti? She’s nice, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, I really liked her.”
“What about you and this guy your dad thought you were coming up with?” he asked. “What’s going on there?”
Hmm. I turned to face the side of the pool, resting my chin on my hands. “Do you want the truth or a pretty lie which may aid in making the next five days go more smoothly? Your choice. I honestly don’t mind.”
The wary look returned. “Thanks for options. Why don’t we stick with the truth for now?”
“He cheated on me.”
“What?” he asked, outraged. “You’re joking. What an asshole.”
“Yeah. My friend just told me earlier that she saw him out with someone else getting handsy in the corner of a restaurant.” I gave him a half-smile. “I think it’s safe to say that one’s over.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We weren’t that well suited. I mean, I was attracted to him, but something was just missing,” I admitted. “To be honest, I’m not that cut up about it.”
His brows remained drawn tight. “That’s good, I guess. Anyway . . . I’m sorry about my comments about your dating life over dinner.”
“Ah, okay. Thanks.”
A grunt.
“Sorry I called you a manwhore.”
He blinked. “You didn’t call me a manwhore.”
“No? Must have just thought it,” I said. “But I’m sure I was wrong and that you’ve had deep and abiding feelings for each and every one of your numerous girlfriends over the many long years. Just out of interest, can you even remember all of their names?”
His shoulders lifted as he exhaled hard. “Yeah, alright. I take back my apology.”
“Okay.”
“You know, kid, you almost sound jealous.”
“I don’t think so, old man. Just pointing out the hypocrisy there,” I said, laughing.
While I’d like to pretend it was the romance of the moon on the water, I’m pretty sure his dark, searching gaze was to blame for the sudden pounding of my heart. I was out of my depth. I was wet in a way that had nothing to do with the water. Grumpy and intense shouldn’t be so hot. Teenage crushes aside, I liked guys who were fun and easy to be with. Single people who liked girls and had a penis but weren’t Pete. Those were really my main points of focus when it came to dating. I don’t know what Shanti had been on about. And they said women didn’t know what they wanted. Yeah. Go, me. “Jealous, as if. I like them younger and faster than you.”
He shook his head. “No, you don’t.”
“I most certainly do.”
“No. Don’t get me wrong—fast can be fun sometimes. But more often than not, it’s all about taking it slow. Taking the time to do the job right and making sure everybody gets what they need,” he said calmly, casually. As if we weren’t talking about sex at all. “Don’t let any idiot tell you otherwise.”
I had nothing.
“Anyway, I’m going to bed.” With ease, he pulled himself out of the water. The muscles in his arms and back were truly something else. “You okay here on your own?”
“Of course. ’Night.”
He grabbed a towel, along with his bottle of scotch and glass, and wandered up the back steps. While the front view was nice, the back view was also kind of breathtaking. Rule one had basically been cremated and buried in the backyard. I hoped it could rest in peace. Because no way could I stop looking.
Not packing my personal massager for this trip had been a mistake.