Chapter Eight
After Nate kissed the snit right out of me and got us even more hot and bothered, we spent the day on the beach. We rented sun loungers with a table and parasol in between them, and spent the day lazing it away.
When we knew the kids would be back from school, we Skyped with them on our phones, glad to see they weren’t missing us too much, and instead were having fun with Nathan and Sylvie.
“It looks so sunny there.” Lily did pout, however.
“It is, baby girls.” I turned the phone so they could see the ocean.
“Aww, it’s so pretty.”
I turned the camera back around. “I miss you.”
“Nana made chocolate chip muffins,” Jan said in answer.
Meaning they weren’t missing me so much.
Nate snorted beside me and I nudged him with my elbow. “I’m jealous.” Sylvie’s baking skills were pretty legendary.
“Right, girls, time for judo.” Sylvie appeared on the screen and waved at us. “Sorry, darlings, but I’ve got to get them to their judo class.”
“Of course.”
We said our good-byes and a thousand love yous and got off the phone. I pouted like my eleven-year-old. “I miss them.”
Nate grinned. “Me too. But it’s only been a day.”
“I know.”
We settled back on our loungers and I’d just picked up the book I was reading when Nate said, “Would you rather be able to see into your own future or the future of everyone you love?”
I placed my book on my chest and turned to look at him through the dark lenses of my sunglasses. He was propped up on his elbow, looking at me. I mirrored him, turning toward him. “What made you think of that one?”
“I’m reading a sci-fi about a cognitive.” He gestured to the book.
“Ah. Well, okay then. I guess I choose my own future.”
“Why?”
“Because if there’s something bad in my own future, I could handle that. Not the future of the people I love. For instance, I couldn’t handle knowing when you were going to die. That would be a living nightmare.”
Nate immediately flipped onto his back and picked up at his book.
He didn’t say another word.
Or tell me his choice.
At his cold abruptness, I was quietly stunned for a moment, just watching him read. And then I got annoyed. “What the hell just happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, something happened.” I sat up. “What happened?”
“It was a stupid question. Morbid answers and all that.” He tried to wave it off, but I wasn’t for it.
“My answer disturbed you for some reason.”
“It didn’t.” He put his book down and got up off the lounger. I sat, stunned, as he pressed a kiss to my temple. “I’m heading into the water for a swim.”
I watched him, my insides all twisted, as he strode, strong, healthy, and fit toward the ocean. My eyes lingered over the tourists, wondering if any of the women were watching him from beneath their sunglasses, and knowing they probably were.
I got up, tying my sarong around my waist, because I wasn’t confident enough to walk around in just my bikini, and I wandered down the beach toward the water to watch him as he dove in and began to swim.
Thinking over my answer to our usually fun Would You Rather questions, I could only assume his weirdness was because I mentioned him dying. I hadn’t been lying either. I would rather know when I was going to leave this earth than know when Nate would. The idea of losing him was crippling, but I didn’t linger over the thought. Life was too short.
But did Nate linger on the thought of death?
Peetie’s passing had left an indelible mark on my husband, and I wished like hell he would just talk to me about his feelings.
I waited for him, deciding we were going to talk about this as soon as he emerged from the ocean, but I didn’t get the chance. Nate swam back until he could touch his feet to shore and my breath caught, watching him as he walked out of the water with droplets glistening all over his tanned skin. My mouth went dry at the thought of launching myself at him right there and then. It momentarily distracted me from my purpose, and then my husband distracted me further when he reached me, grinning at me with those damn dimples.
He grabbed the knot on my sarong and pulled it loose.
“What are you doing?” I tried to stop him, but he whipped the thing off me before I could resist.
“I want to see you. Stop hiding.”
Feeling that prickle of self-consciousness come over me as I stood there in my bikini, I glowered at him. “I’m more comfortable with it on.”
“You’re gorgeous.” He pulled me toward him and I stumbled in the sand, falling into his hard chest. “You have the sexiest, longest fucking legs on the planet. Why would you hide them?”
Warmth suffused me as I trailed my fingertips over his muscular chest. “I won’t then.”
“Good.” He kissed me softly and then whispered against my lips, “I can’t wait to have them wrapped around me tomorrow night. I’m going to fuck you so hard, Olivia Sawyer, you’ll never rid yourself of the sensation of having my cock inside of you.”
I trembled as his callused hands drifted over my naked back. “You’re doing this deliberately.”
“You want to be tormented with want, don’t you?” he said, his voice hoarse with sex. “I’m just obliging you.”
“Well, I’m wet,” I answered abruptly.
His fingers dug into my back. “I can’t make it to tomorrow, Liv.”
“Yes, you can,” I replied, even though I wasn’t sure I could.
“Fuck,” he bit out.
My eyes widened behind my sunglasses. “What? What is it?”
“I just realized something.”
“What?”
He bent his head toward me, his arms binding tight around me so my boobs were pressed to his chest. “We’ve been married for ten years, together for fourteen.”
“Yeah?”
“And I want you just as much now as I did then. Who in the hell ever heard of that?”
I melted against him. “We’re pretty lucky.”
“No.” He shook his head, pressing his hand on my ass and nudging his hips against me so I could feel his erection rubbing against me. “You’re a witch. You’ve cursed my dick to only get hard for you.”
I laughed at his nonsense, even though my nipples were like hard pebbles and I hadn’t been lying when I said I was wet. I was slick between my legs. “You do know we’re on a public beach and there are people around.”
“Lucky for me there’s an ice-cold ocean at my back.” And quite abruptly he turned and hurried into it, diving back into the water.
It wasn’t until later, when we were packing up to go back to the inn, that I realized he’d distracted me. I hadn’t asked him about falling back on his old behavior and putting more distance between us again. It bothered me that we could be so close in some ways, so in sync with everything else, including sex, but that there was still this one wall between us.
I wasn’t going to force conversation, I’d decided, as we walked hand in hand along the boardwalk with sand between our toes. We’d play our games, we’d fuck the frustration out, and when we’d bridged that distance, I’d start in on the emotional one.
“Hey, guys!”
Nate and I had just stepped out of Antonio’s, where we’d had delicious pizza, when we heard the familiar voice of Bailey Hartwell.
We looked to our left to find her walking toward us from the inn. She wore a olive silk camisole, skinny jeans, and flip-flops. For a moment I envied her her elegant, slender physique, and then I remembered the heat in Nate’s eyes while he watched me as I tortured him by showering with the bathroom door open that afternoon.
It was time to get over myself and my body hang-ups before it became a problem. I didn’t want my girls to have the same self-esteem issues I had, so I needed to curtail my negative thoughts about my own body.
“It’s my night off so I’m heading to Cooper’s. Do you guys want to join me? Please feel free to say no. I don’t want to interrupt a romantic evening.”
I was practically coming out of my skin for want of my husband, and I think his feelings were pretty near the surface, too. We’d barely spoken a word at dinner.
Okay, so we were choking on the sexual tension.
“Sounds good,” I said, and Nate nodded in agreement.
“Awesome.” Bailey gave us her glamorous smile. “Jess and Vaughn are coming. Dahlia won’t be there. She . . .” Bailey frowned. “She’s visiting family in Boston.”
Cooper’s was already quite busy by the time we got there. The bar had a traditional décor with dark walnut wood everywhere—the long bar, the tables and chairs, even the floor. Three large brass chandeliers broke up the darkness, while wall-mounted green library lamps along the back wall gave the booths there a cozy, almost romantic vibe. There was a small stage near the front door, and just across from the booths were three stairs that led up onto a raised dais where two pool tables sat. Two huge flat-screen televisions, one above the bar and one above the pool tables, made me think it was part sports bar.
There was a large jukebox beside the stage that was currently playing AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.”
Appropriate.
Nate and I shared a look and I knew we were thinking the exact same thing, which only made us grin at each other.
“What?” Bailey asked, smiling curiously.
“Nothing,” I assured her, still laughing.
“Ah, private joke, I get it.” Still grinning, she led us to the bar where an attractive blonde turned in her stool to greet Bailey with a wide smile. Behind the bar, making a couple of drinks, was an extremely rugged and handsome guy in his mid-to-late thirties. He grinned at Bailey, too. “Coop, Jess, I want you to meet two of my guests. They flew in for their ten-year anniversary vacation from Scotland.” Our inn owner turned to us. “Nate, Olivia, this is Cooper, he owns the bar.” She gestured to rugged, hot guy. “And this is Cooper’s wife, Jessica.”
“Nice to meet you.” Jessica held out her hand and Nate and I took turns shaking it.
Cooper gave us a manly nod of his chin. “You enjoying Hartwell so far?”
“It’s beautiful.” I nodded.
“Even more beautiful with a drink in your hand?”
“Aye, that would be good,” Nate said. “Two beers, please. Draft.”
“There’s the accent.” Jess grinned at my husband before turning to me. “You don’t have one?”
Bailey explained for me. “Olivia is American. Her dad is Scottish, they moved back to Scotland, she met Nate, also Scottish.”
I nodded with a grin to confirm.
“Have a seat.” Cooper gestured to two empty bar stools. There was another bartender, I noted, but he was busy at the other end of the bar, laughing and joking with a group of women waiting at the bar for their drinks.
Nate pulled a stool out for me and I hopped on it while he took the one next to me. Jessica moved down so Bailey could take the one on my other side. “Where’s Tremaine?” the doctor asked.
“He should be here any minute. I think today has been a trying day for our hotelier.” She winced sympathetically, and turned to us. “What do you guys do back in Scotland?”
Nate answered as he handed Cooper money for our beers. “I’m a photographer.”
“And I’m a librarian.”
“Not just any librarian,” Nate said, settling back on his stool. “Liv runs the library at the University of Edinburgh.”
I shot him a smirk. “You like telling people that, huh.”
“Proud of you.” He shrugged.
“That’s very cool,” Jessica said, and I wasn’t sure if she was talking about my job or my sweet husband.
Before I could say anything, Bailey’s head whipped around to the door and her whole face softened. She hopped down off her stool and Jess moved down one more stool. I followed Bailey’s movements as she crossed the bar toward the door. Waiting for her was a guy almost as beautiful as my husband. As soon as Bailey neared him, she put her hands on his chest and he bent his head to press a soft kiss to her lips. She smiled up at him, and although he didn’t return it, he didn’t need to. This guy looked at Bailey Hartwell like the sun rose and fell with her and her alone.
Taking his hand, Bailey strolled back to the bar with him.
Up close, the guy was even more beautiful.
“Olivia, Nate, this is my fiancé, Vaughn.”
Vaughn held out his hand to shake ours, which we did, and I took him in. He wore a suit that was so perfectly cut to his body, it had to be custom tailored and possibly designer. If I wasn’t mistaken, those polished shoes on his feet were Prada. He had striking gray eyes, made all the more stunning by the long dark lashes framing them and the thick dark hair on his head.
There was something cool and cultured and perhaps a little aloof about him, and if I’d met him solo I wouldn’t have been that comfortable around him. I liked my men like Nate—open and social and funny.
However, I could forgive Vaughn Tremaine his aloofness because every time Bailey opened her mouth to speak, that man watched her like a hawk, like he couldn’t get enough of her.
She made him smile and his smile transformed his whole face.
Yes, there was no way Bailey Hartwell would look elsewhere for a guy when she had one at her side who looked at her like that.
As the evening wore on and we talked with the people of this beautiful little town, it became clear that Jess and Cooper were just as in love. They were recently married and clearly still in the first bloom of marital bliss.
Why I felt an edge of envy, I did not know. It was ridiculous. I had never envied anyone their relationship when I had Nate. But sitting there, watching two couples so close and in love, I started to feel like I couldn’t breathe.
I noted the pool tables at the back of the bar, and one was free. “Let’s play pool.” I turned to my husband.
Nate quirked an eyebrow at my random suggestion. “Do you know how to play pool?”
“Do you?”
“Aye.”
“Then you can show me.” I climbed off the stool, feeling mischievous, and the feeling helped evaporate my negative emotions.
You see . . . I knew how to play pool.
I hadn’t played in years but I was guessing it wasn’t something you forgot how to do. My dad was a master at this game and he’d taught me well. However, Nate didn’t need to know that. Bailey grinned at us as we got up. “Enjoy.”
Nate led me across the bar with his hand on my lower back, and up the steps to the pool table that was free. He racked the balls and handed me a cue stick. “Object of the game is to pocket all of your balls, plus the eight ball.” He gestured to the black numbered ball in the triangle. “I’ll break, show you how it’s done, and when it comes to your turn, I’ll guide you. Sound good?”
I smiled sweetly at my husband. “Great.”
Watching him bend over the table with his cue stick, I leaned back a little to get a look at his ass. Always a very nice view. I giggled to myself as my husband pocketed ball four while the others scattered against the rails with the power of his shot. Hmm. Nate might be good at this, I thought.
“Right.” He stood up and I lost my sneaky smirk, replacing it with what I hoped came off as a sincere eagerness to learn. “I pocketed a low ball, so my goal is to pocket all of them, balls one to seven. Your goal is to pocket the high balls, balls nine to fifteen. The object of the game is to do that and pocket the eight ball.” He gestured to the only black ball on the table.
“Okay.”
He then commenced pocketing three more balls before he missed the next shot.
My turn.
“So . . .” I held up my cue stick. “How do I do this?”
Nate gave me a cocky grin, those dimples of his flashing as he rounded the table to me. He got me in position, bent over the pool table, and leaned over me, his breath hot on my cheek. “Keep your shooting arm parallel to the line of shot and perpendicular to the table as you shoot.”
I nodded, and deliberately missed my shot.
“Too bad, babe.” Nate squeezed my arse. “But not gonna lie, I like that I’m going to have to show you how to do this some more.”
I grinned as I got up, my breasts brushing his chest. “I bet you are.”
He winked at me. “First, I’m going to kick your arse.”
I rolled my eyes and watched him take out the rest of his balls, easily.
Now it was my turn to take down his balls. Metaphorically speaking.
“Another game?” I pouted. “I barely got a chance to try.”
“Okay, babe. Do you want to try breaking?”
I nodded uncertainly as he racked the balls. And then I said, “Maybe we should make it more interesting.”
“How so?”
“A bet. Whoever loses has to strip naked and go into the ocean at night. Before we leave for home.”
“You do realize how fucking freezing that ocean is at night,” Nate said, concerned. “Babe, you’re not going in that ocean at night. Naked.”
So cocky. “I might win,” I said, pretending to sound uncertain.
“Babe.”
“You chicken?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Loser freezes her naked arse off in the ocean.”
I held out my hand across the table. “Shake on it.”
He did, his grip firm, his gaze still a little worried.
In answer, I lifted the rack, handed it to him, bent over the table, positioned myself perfectly, and let my cue stick fly.
I pocketed two high balls.
“What the . . .” My husband stared in astonishment.
An astonishment that only grew to realization as I rounded the table, pocketing all of my balls. Finally, I pocketed the eight ball.
I did it under three minutes.
Straightening, I smiled at my husband.
He glowered at me. “You hustled me. You fucking hustled me.”
I threw my head back in laughter. By the time I got my laughter under control, Nate had rounded the table to pull me into his arms. I grinned at him, seeing his annoyed amusement.
“You’re lucky that was sexy as hell or I’d be pissed off right about now.”
“It was funny.” I dropped the cue stick and wrapped my arms around his neck. “And you thought you knew everything you possibly could about your wife.”
“No.” He shook his head, his eyes dropping to my mouth. “You never stop surprising me.” His hands tightened on my waist. “Who taught you to play pool?”
“My dad. He taught me well.”
Nate kissed me softly, and murmured against my lips, “If I have to get blue balls standing in a freezing cold ocean, don’t make me have blue balls lying next to my wife in bed tonight.”
I kissed him back. “It’ll be worth the wait. I promise.”
His eyes flashed in irritation and I wondered if maybe this game I was playing was the wrong game when our relationship felt so fragile.
“Are you mad?”
Instead of answering, he said, “You promise this is just about wanting great sex, and not about wanting to delay sex with me?”
Why did he still think that? “Of course not. Nate . . . All I can think about is sex with you.”
“Then I’m not mad,” he said promptly. “But maybe we should just head back to the inn. So I can take a cold shower.” He let go of my waist and stepped back, but still he took my hand. “Watching you whip that table’s arse was hot as hell.”
I laughed and he turned to smile wickedly at me.
We said good night to Jess, Coop, Bailey, and Vaughn, and as we were leaving I could have sworn I heard Bailey say, “That right there is what I call relationship goals.”
Was she talking about me and Nate? I wondered, as I strolled down the boardwalk with my husband who still wouldn’t confide in me about his pain. I had to ask myself then, if everyone else thought Nate and I had an amazing relationship, and Nate thought we had an amazing relationship, then what the hell was my goddamn problem?