Chapter 12

It wasn’t the rocking of the boat that had given me pause, but the odor and the fluids. It wasn’t like a crime scene, per se, but there was dampness and indicators of flesh and blood, which was unexpected since they trapped live lobster. “Why is there, um, blood?” I asked Cain as I stepped gingerly, already planning to toss my sneakers in the washer that night. Or the garbage.

“It’s from the bait. We skewer it.”

Cain was smiling at me, like he was proud of what he did. I imagined he should be. It seemed a career that worked well with his schedule and personality, and he had said the pay was decent. Being served a lobster dinner made people happy, no doubt about that. I liked lobster myself. But this was why I had probably deluded myself that lobster were trapped in a much more clinical way. Like Cain had teased me. A giant vacuum. Easier not to consider the rather briny reality of it.

I wasn’t sure why he wanted me here, exactly, but damn it, I was a girl, with all the feelings that girls had. I liked that he wanted to introduce me to people he worked with. It felt very boyfriend and girlfriend and I was honestly a little giddy about that. We had a thing. It wasn’t exactly a hookup anymore. It was a thing.

“Why do you skewer it?”

He looked at me like that was a dumb question. “Because.”

“Because why?”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Because because.”

Now I was smiling along with him. I couldn’t help it. We were getting silly with each other. Because something was happening and we both knew it. “Because because why?”

“Because I said so.” And he reached out and picked me up around the waist and hauled me to him. “Come here.”

I involuntarily let out a yelp. I didn’t mean to but I hadn’t anticipated his move. I sucked in a breath and it had nothing to do with his work clothes and anything that might transfer from them to my own shirt and jeans. It was because when my body collided with his I got turned on. Always. “Why?” I asked, just to be a smart-ass.

Cain laughed. “You can ask me as many questions as you want, you know. I might not have the answers, but you can always ask me.”

I had been laughing, but now I sobered as I stared into Cain’s pale blue eyes. Why did that seem so monumental, so vital? Maybe because everyone else who had professed to care about me at some point or another was always irritated by me. Stop asking questions, Sophie. Zip it, Sophie. I don’t know the goddamn answer, Sophie Jane, Jesus.

“You’ll be sorry you said that,” I told him.

But he shook his head slowly. “I’m never sorry for anything I do.”

The bizarre thing was I believed him. He didn’t seem to have guilt over his drinking. Or anything else for that matter. There was probably someone who would say he took advantage of me. But they would be wrong.

“So you won’t be sorry when you do me later?” I murmured in a low voice, channeling my best Bella flirting advice.

Cain released my waist. “Not in the fucking slightest. Just the opposite. Now, stop talking dirty to me in front of my boss or I’m going to embarrass myself by getting a hard-on.”

“Stop, you are not.” But then I glanced down at his crotch without thinking and he sucked in a breath. There was something going on down there. Yikes. Or more like, yes. I did that.

But maybe it was time to change the subject. I had a lot of questions about lobstering and I figured that was a safe topic. “So how many traps are on the boat?” It looked like a lot. I was staring at them, calculating rows and height.

“Eight hundred is the max per boat. I’m not sure how many John has. Six hundred?” He called over to John. “How many trap tags you got?”

“Six hundred and thirty-eight,” I said. “Unless something is obscuring my view of various rows.”

“I think around six hundred and forty,” John said. “I don’t have the room for all eight hundred. Boat’s too small.”

I shot Cain a smug look.

“What?” he said, shrugging. “You were two short.”

I punched his arm.

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that later.”

I laughed again, because it was easy to laugh with him.

But he leaned over and kissed me, cutting off my laugh. Then he pulled back and studied me intently. “You’re brilliant, I admit it. And I find that fucking sexy.”

The rocking of the boat wasn’t the only thing making me feel dizzy. “Thank you,” I whispered.

How horribly ironic it was that the guy who was supposed to be nothing, just a convenient cock, stripping me of my virginity, had become a man who validated me. Who made me feel less of a freak. In that moment I realized I was falling hard for him and that scared me.

My mother was right. It wasn’t The Notebook. I couldn’t marry the lobster fisherman and sit back and watch him drink himself to death. Or maybe in a year or two he would realize no ex-girlfriend was worth ruining his own life and he’d walk away from the booze, but I had my doubts. That was a pain that ran deep and I totally got that.

Nor could he marry me and not grow to resent the shit out of my family’s money and my career, which would keep me in Boston. There were no fantasy futures to be had, especially not when Cain was knee-deep in a family feud with his brother. I am known for being practical. For assessing the situation and seeing the stark truth of it.

But this truth was one I didn’t want to face when I was standing on a boat in the beautiful bay with a gorgeous man holding me and telling me that I was fucking sexy.

So I asked questions and he answered and we enjoyed the hell out of each other’s company.

And we had dinner like a couple, where he only had two drinks. Then he took me to his house and fucked me hard from behind and I never wanted my education to end. Ever.

---

When I came back home at midnight my parents were in the house in the living room. My father was watching golf, which seemed amazing to me that he had found golf on that late. My mother was losing her shit.

“Where the hell have you been?” she asked me, looking outraged.

This was her grandstanding as usual, given that I had texted her that I was out with a friend. I hadn’t meant to stay that late at Cain’s but he had very persuasive methods. “I went out to dinner.”

Bella was dozing on the couch, which struck me as odd. She wasn’t a person who took naps and she didn’t fall asleep anywhere other than her bed. “Is Bella okay?”

“She has a migraine.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I was starting to get a little worried about my sister. She seemed to have lost her pleasure in planning her wedding and was now just stressed out. Which was probably normal, but it made me sad for her. This was all she had ever wanted and she didn’t seem to be enjoying it.

“Are you, Sophie?” my mother snapped. “You are being so selfish right now.” She picked up her wineglass and sipped from it while I stared at her, not comprehending what the hell I had done wrong. “Bella needs you and you’re off having some sort of Dirty Dancing moment.”

“I thought I was acting out The Notebook,” I said, and instantly I knew being a smart-ass was a really bad idea. My mother was on the edge.

“Damn it,” she seethed. “This is not funny! Ned, tell your daughter this isn’t funny.”

“This isn’t funny,” my dad said automatically.

I took off my shoes and held them gingerly in my hands. I felt somewhat sheepish, though I still didn’t see what the big deal was. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m not trying to be flippant.” Okay, I was. And she knew it. But I was high on another night of fantastic sex with Cain and her Dirty Dancing comment had been stupid.

Though I had to admit I could see the similarities. I was Baby the virgin and Cain was Johnny the bad boy. Or the big bad wolf. The thought made me smile.

“Why are you grinning?”

My mother was still dressed in linen pants and a shirt that I imagined she would call a blouse. My mother was the oldest fifty-five-year-old on the planet. She had the sensibilities of a woman in her eighties.

“I was thinking about something.” Something that involved Cain’s large cock and what it could do to me. But I had to keep that thought to myself. “Is there something you need me to do? I can help if you actually assign me a task.” That was me taking a little jab at her unwillingness to allow me to do anything for this wedding.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She waved her hand and turned back to her wine.

I made eye contact with my father, who shrugged. In the past five years his hair, once dark like mine, had gone gray, and he’d gained a few pounds, but it never seemed to stop women from wanting to have sex with him. It’s a bizarre reality to know your father is a cheater and your mother most likely knows and doesn’t care. Or maybe does care, but cares more about her image than about his infidelity.

“I’m going to bed.” I wanted to toss my sullied shoes in the trash and I didn’t want to get too close to either of them. I suspected I smelled like sex, which would be very awkward.

I ditched the shoes in the kitchen wastebasket then ran up the stairs before my mother could start harassing me again. I was so glad I was years out from living under the same roof with her. Being at this house twice a year with my parents for vacation was plenty of time together. She seemed to have completely forgotten that I was on the verge of turning twenty-five years old. Not sixteen.

When I got upstairs my phone buzzed in my hand.

Good night, my sexy smart-ass.

I’m not going to lie. I slept hugging my phone that night, which was not part of my usual routine.

Maybe Cain had become part of what soothed me.

That was hugely ironic and dangerous.

---

I had teased Sophie that I would be her dirty secret but neither of us was making any effort at all to hide what we were doing. I paraded her sweet little ass around town, like fuck yeah, look at me, being normal. Dating a girl. And not just any girl. A fucking Harvard genius. We got a lot of raised eyebrows but Sophie didn’t seem to notice. I caught every one of them and I knew what the locals were all thinking.

I didn’t deserve her.

I didn’t.

But she wanted me and I wanted her and if there was one thing I was good at, it was living in the moment.

I was staring into the window of a woman’s clothing store, mentally taking the red dress off the mannequin and placing it on Sophie’s curves, when she came up beside me, breathless. I had been waiting for her to sneak away after a family dinner in town. Glancing down at her, I gave her a smile. “How was dinner?”

“Boring.” She went up on her tiptoes and leaned toward me, clearly wanting a kiss.

Yeah. There it was. Fucking emotion I didn’t even know what to do with. Because when she reached for me, I wanted to take her to me and keep her there forever. But I kissed her anyway, a tender kiss, where I cupped her cheeks and let it be real.

A bump on the glass of the store window drew my attention away from Sophie. I glanced over and saw an employee changing the shoes in the display. But she barely registered. What I mostly saw was me and Sophie reflected back at me. Her hands were on my waist, mine on her face.

Just a man and a woman, together, like a hundred others wandering around this town. But for the first time in fucking forever, I saw happiness in my expression.

It felt amazing. But it also scared the hell out of me.

I had promised myself I wouldn’t drink tonight. Sophie only had a couple of hours. There wasn’t even time to sneak back to my house and have sex. So I had vowed to be sober and decent. But now I wanted the kiss of whiskey, a chaser after the sting of Sophie, the realization that I could enjoy this all I wanted, but it wasn’t going to last.

“What did you tell your parents?” I asked her, turning, not wanting to see myself anymore.

“I told them the truth. You know I can’t really lie particularly well. So I just said I wanted to see you. My mother lectured me on birth control and how you might just be using me for my father’s money.”

While I would never want Sophie to be dishonest, sometimes her truths were a little kick in the dick. Of course her parents would think I would be a risk, a potential gold digger. It was logical. But it still pissed me off. “There’s a lot of things I want but money is not one of them, Soph.”

As for the birth control topic, I wasn’t touching that with a fucking ten-foot pole. I trusted Sophie wasn’t stupid, and was on the pill, even if we weren’t also on point with our condom use.

“I know. But she’s worried I’ll fall for you.”

I searched her face, curious. I wasn’t sure if she was just relaying information or getting at something. “Would that be such a bad thing?” I asked. Then I answered my own question. “Actually, yeah, it would. You’re smarter than that.”

But her big, brown eyes were wide and dark and drew me in. She opened her mouth, but then she shut it. Her hands fell off my waist. “Let’s go to the park.”

There it was. The nothing I had been anticipating. I clenched my jaw, swallowing hard, my throat tightening. And again, the craving. The flare of my nostrils, the hot wave of anger that seemed to crash through my veins, a brutal impatience with reality, and the driving need to escape.

Alone I would have walked straight into the bar. But I made twin fists and said, “Sure.” Ninety minutes. I could do this.

But then I spotted a familiar figure. “Ah, fuck.” I shook my head. I didn’t need this shit right now.

“What?” Sophie asked.

“That’s my mother across the street.” With Camp. At the goddamn ice cream parlor. “She saw me so I can’t dodge her.” Which I really wanted to do. I didn’t feel capable of dealing with her fretful optimism.

“Oh. Do you not want her to know we’re…seeing each other?” Sophie sounded a little vulnerable.

“No, that’s not it.” I wasn’t sure how to explain it. “She’s just annoying.” She was also waving frantically, gesturing for me to come over there. When I didn’t react she actually cupped her hands around her mouth and called my name. People were starting to stare. “Jesus. Do you mind if we walk over and say hi?”

“I don’t mind.”

In fact, Sophie sounded curious. That was fucking unnerving. Sophie curious during sex was amazing. On the street it was unpredictable. With anyone else, that didn’t matter. With my mother, it could get real weird real fast.

“Hey,” I said to her after we crossed the street. I sounded like a sullen asshole. Which was exactly how I felt. “Did you want something?”

My mother frowned at me. “Goodness, someone is cranky.” She had Camp in a stroller and was seated on a bench spooning ice cream into his mouth. He was waving his fists and kicking his feet.

I crossed my arms across my chest without even meaning to.

“I’m Lorraine,” she said to Sophie. “Cain’s mother.”

Because yeah, I was a dick who hadn’t done introductions. “Mom, this is Sophie,” I interjected, angry, but still capable of being ashamed of my behavior.

“Nice to meet you,” Sophie said, reaching out and offering her hand to my mother.

“You too, sweetie.” My mother beamed, which made me roll my eyes. “I’ve heard you’ve been spending a lot of time with my Cain.”

Was there anything more irritating than your mother using a possessive with your given name in front of the girl you’re fucking? Nope. Nothing.

“Oh,” Sophie said, giving a nervous laugh like she wasn’t sure what to say.

Because who the hell knew what to say to that?

“So you’re in college? You must be a smart girl.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and spooned another bit of ice cream into Camp’s mouth.

Holy shit, this was going from bad to worse.

“I am,” Sophie said.

That made me grin briefly. It always cracked me up when she refused to bow to social conventions and pretend to be demure.

“Well, then, maybe a smart girl like you can fix Cain.”

Amusement gone. I glared at my mother. “I’m not a fucking broken lawnmower. I don’t need a mental mechanic.”

“Watch your mouth in front of the baby.”

I was feeling ugly and I didn’t appreciate her reprimanding me in front of Sophie. “Yeah, well, at some point he is going to have to learn his mother is a whore.”

It takes a lot to piss my mother off. I mean, like a veritable shit ton. But she was as fiercely protective of Camp as she had been of us when we were kids and people around town had trash-talked my father and our family.

So I can’t say I was exactly surprised when she set the ice cream cup down and stood up to face me. “What is wrong with you?” she asked, sounding genuinely puzzled and hurt. “You of all people should know how it feels to have the sins of a parent put on an innocent child.”

She was significantly shorter than I was but I instantly felt small. She was right. I knew that feeling all too well. I was about to apologize but she turned to Sophie.

“Sometimes I think there is no fixing this one,” she said. “Be careful, Sophie.”

That was worse than a slap in the face. My mother always believed in me. She never doubted for one minute that I could recover and move on and be an awesome human being. That she might just have thrown in the proverbial towel on me shocked the hell out of me.

“Take care,” she said, reaching back and grabbing the ice cream cup. She unlocked the stroller wheels and pushed Camp down the sidewalk, away from us.

I didn’t know what to say to Sophie. I didn’t know what to feel. Sophie didn’t speak either and I couldn’t look at her.

“I need a drink,” I said finally when the silence drew out, painful and weighted.

All she said was, “I know.”

So we walked to the bar and her silence was almost as comforting as the whiskey bottles lined up behind the countertop.

---

I don’t know how to comfort anyone. Not really. But my silence—because I had no clue what to say to Cain—seemed to be exactly what he needed. Yet, it still made me feel hopelessly inadequate. I couldn’t do what his mother had asked of me and fix him. But I could be his friend. His lover. His no-judgment drinking buddy.

Because I had no right to suggest that I would be any smarter than he was if our roles were reversed.

So I sat beside him and nursed a beer while he threw back a couple of drinks with lightning speed. His mood had been sour and dark. I sensed he felt guilty for his comment about Camp’s mother. Which, in my opinion, was just him speaking the truth. But it wasn’t Camp’s fault. And people sometimes don’t want to hear the truth.

I should have been worried that my own mother was going to barge in and drag me away. I wouldn’t put it past her. She was not feeling this whole relationship with my “tour guide.” I wish the same could be said for me.

It was clear Cain was hurt by his mother’s comment that he might be beyond fixing. I wanted to cup his cheeks and stare into his eyes and convey to him that I thought he was amazing. That his anger was justified. But that maybe he should want something better. Something more.

With me.

And that last part was precisely why I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure if my motives were pure or not. I had the niggling fear that I was just being selfish, wanting Cain.

We were dancing around the topic. Had been for days. I sensed Cain wanted to reach for it as much as I did. But then I got terrified that I was reading the cues wrong and he was just having fun, an extended hookup. That I was a distraction from the usual routine of his life.

“Do you like baseball?” Cain asked, gesturing to the TV.

The Red Sox were on. “I mean, I don’t dislike it. I wouldn’t call myself any sort of expert though. I’ve never been to a live game.”

He looked at me like that was the most insane thing he had ever heard. “What the fuck? You grew up in Boston and you have never been to a baseball game?” He shook his head. “That’s criminal.”

“My father didn’t think I would be interested.”

“That’s bad parenting right there. It’s every father’s responsibility to subject his children to his love of baseball. What they do with it from there is on them, but he should have at least tried.”

That amused me. I propped my chin on the palm of my hand. “He had other priorities. Like making money and having sex with women who were not his wife.”

“For real?” Cain shook his head when I nodded. “That’s some fucking bullshit right there.”

I shrugged. “I was a weird kid. He was an unemotional guy. You do the math.” I pointed my finger at him and smiled. “Get it? Do the math.”

Cain grinned. “Ba dum bom. Don’t quit school for comedy, kid.”

“That’s the second time you’ve suggested a mathematics degree is the most appropriate course for me.”

His mouth opened and his expression was enigmatic. But then he closed his mouth again and shook his head slightly, a sly smile on his face. “It’s true.”

It felt like he had been about to say something else but he just took a sip of his drink. Watching him brought it home to me again how surreal this all was. He was so damn gorgeous. The kind of good-looking guy, so built and hot, that other girls would envy me and my position. As they should. He made sex amazing.

Needing to confirm his presence I reached out and pinched his arm. He was real. This was real. His skin was warm beneath my fingers and rolled when I squeezed.

“Hey!” He looked at me, amused. “What the hell was that for?”

I just shook my head. I turned my glass around and around in circles, focusing on the sound it made, scraping against the wood top of the bar. It soothed me. Darryl interrupted my OCD moment. “You need another drink, Sophie?”

I shook my head. “I have to leave in a minute, but thanks.”

“She’s sneaking out to be with me,” Cain said, making me sound like a rebellious teen.

“I’m twenty-four years old,” I said. “I don’t need to sneak around to see a guy.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t the guy to take home to your parents,” Darryl said.

“Fuck you,” was Cain’s opinion on that.

Darryl grinned. “You two look good together. I hate to admit it.”

Cain looked embarrassed. “Go wash a glass or something.”

Darryl left, laughing.

Cain pinched my arm in return. He winked at me. “I’ll take you to a Red Sox game someday. I promise, Sophie Bigelow.”

My heart swelled. I suddenly felt like I wanted to cry because I wanted the movie ending. I wanted more with Cain. A future.

I blinked hard so he wouldn’t see.

Cain walked me to the hotel my parents were at. They were checking out the ballroom for the wedding and were eventually going to notice the hour I had said I would be gone had stretched into two.

The water looked beautiful and the air was warm, clean. There were lots of tourists strolling through the town and they didn’t pay any attention to us. Cain was wearing a black T-shirt with his cross necklace dangling prominently. He had on dark jeans that made me think far too much about what he looked like naked.

“I love this song,” he said.

There was music piped through the speakers of a restaurant, wafting down the sidewalk. It was a…hair-band ballad? Maybe? It was nothing I had ever heard in my entire life. “I don’t know it,” I said.

He made a sound in the back of his throat. “What? First baseball, now only the greatest band that ever existed?”

“I’ve led a sheltered life apparently.”

Cain stopped walking. “Come here.”

“What?” I looked at him, bewildered. He had his arms held out to me. “What are you doing?”

“Let’s dance.”

He didn’t appear drunk but that sounded a little crazy. “We’re on the sidewalk.”

“Would you prefer the grass?”

My heart was racing and I was confused, but excited. This didn’t happen to me. Men didn’t want to dance in the middle of town with me. I tentatively reached out my hand to him. None of this was logical, but God, it was romantic. And I was just as easy to convince as any other girl.

He took me in his arms and began to dance with me with a grace that stunned me. He was light on his feet, maybe from all that time on the open water. He had great balance. Cain looked down at me, a slight smile on his lips as he sang the words to me. Words about love. Part of me wanted to close my eyes and breathe in, try to capture this moment and hold it to me forever. But if I closed my eyes I wouldn’t be able to see his.

And those eyes…God, they drilled into me. I swallowed hard as he held me in those strong, callused hands, his thighs brushing against me.

I was falling in love with Cain.

He bent down and kissed the corner of my mouth. I felt everything I had told myself I wouldn’t. A deep longing, a swelling of happiness, an ache for him.

The song ended.

He twirled me in a full circle and cupped my cheeks with his hands. I stared up at him, terrified. There was no answer to this. He was right. There were no answers. “I have to go,” I whispered.

To my surprise, he easily let me go. “Have a good night, my pretty little genius. Text me later when you’re alone and naked.”

But I shook my head. “I can’t do this, Cain,” I blurted out.

His head tilted and the smile fell off his face. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t do this. I…I’m getting too attached to you. I promised myself and you I wouldn’t do that, but I can’t stop it.” I pressed my hands on my cheeks. “I can’t see you anymore or I’m going to get hurt.” I knew it would have been much cooler to just ghost him or go back to Cambridge and then cut off any communication, but that’s not me. I’m not cool. I’m just honest and awkward.

I thought he would be angry. But he just shook his head. “I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“I know that.” I did. Or I thought I did. But I meant that he would hurt me unintentionally when I wanted something he couldn’t give me.

And I was positive he knew that.

“Go to your fancy dinner shit,” he said. “And text me later.”

It sounded demanding. Even a little sexual. I already knew I would. Because, for the smart girl, I was being a total idiot.

He gave me a wink and starting backing up. There was a couple in the restaurant dining alfresco and they were watching us. I realized the guy was the driver who had taken me home the first night, when I left the bar with Cain.

He was watching us with naked curiosity. The woman with clear astonishment.

Cain shook his head, giving a dangerous laugh. “What? You have something to say, Brian?”

I didn’t wait to hear where it went. I quickly walked down the path to the front door of the hotel. Needing to run. To be away from his influence. His temptation.

But that night I touched myself until I shattered, Cain’s face on my phone screen, inches from mine. “That’s it, Red,” he said. “So fucking sexy.”

I felt wild, like Little Red Riding Hood must have when she burst forth from the wolf’s belly. Triumphant, adrenaline on high, my skin alive.

I imagined this was how Cain felt about alcohol. He had to have it.

I had to have him.