West: Where’d you go?
Me: Now you want to know? Three hours later? That must have been some talk you had with Aubrey.
West: I was gone less than ten minutes. I thought you’d gone back outside with Hailey, but you were just gone.
Me: How long did it take you to figure that out?
West: Not long.
Me: So why are you just now texting me?
West: You left. Was I supposed to come find you?
Me: I wanted you to *want* to come find me.
West: I do want to come find you.
Me: No, I wanted you to come find me then, not now.
West: You don’t want me to come over now?
Me: No, now I’m pissed.
West: Why?
Me: I don’t want to talk now.
West: But I thought you wanted me to come find you.
Me: I did.
West: But not now?
Me. Nope.
West: Ok.
I stared at my phone for another hour. He didn’t text again. Didn’t reach out the rest of the night. But the next morning, there was a paper airplane and a box with a single glazed doughnut and I’m sorry written in chocolate on it waiting on the front porch.
I wanted to talk now.
Well, after I ate the doughnut.
Swallowing my pride and a cup of coffee, I headed over to his house. He was waiting for me on the hammock, reading a tattered book with a fish on the cover. I paused, taking a moment to just look at him. Was there anything hotter than a guy reading—shirtless?
No. No, there wasn’t.
Walking closer, I nudged his feet where they were crossed at the ankles. “Hey.”
He lowered the book, watching me with wary eyes. “Have you had coffee yet?”
I grinned. I loved that he knew it wasn’t smart to approach me before I’d had caffeine. I held up one finger.
“Just one? You’re lucky I’m prepared.” Reaching down beside him, he retrieved a thermos I hadn’t noticed on the ground and handed it to me.
I started to lift it to my lips and then hesitated. He drank his black.
“It’s the way you like it.”
Unexpected tears pricked my eyes. Sometimes, it was the little things that mattered most.
“Don’t just stand there. Drink it. For my safety, if nothing else.”
I mock glared at him, but followed orders, the laughter chasing away the sappiness. The coffee was perfect, strong and sweet.
Shoving his legs to the side so I could climb on next to him, I kicked off my flip flops and settled my feet across his chest, wiggling my toes to get his attention.
He peered at me over the top of the book, raising his eyebrows.
“I’m sorry about last night. The texts. I just got scared you weren’t telling me the truth.”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
Raising the thermos to my mouth, I took a long, slow swallow, thinking about his words. Technically, I didn’t think he had. But omitting things? The walls of the bathroom at the Wreck came to mind. The meetings with Aubrey about the gala. And the pictures in his nightstand. I don’t know that he’d ever lied, but he wasn’t as honest as he could be either.
I shook my head, wondering what else I might not know.
“What’s that face for?”
Choosing my words carefully, I focused on my hands when I answered. “I’m not sure not lying and being truthful are the same things.”
He marked his place in the book with a postcard and dropped it to the ground. Scooping one of my feet into his strong hands, he dug his thumbs into the arch, making it hard to concentrate on the conversation.
“What are you talking about?” He met my eyes, confusion written across his features. He didn’t look like a man trying to hide a secret.
I didn’t want to admit I’d snooped in his drawers. Or creeped on Aubrey’s Facebook wall. Stalker, much?
“She just caught me by surprise yesterday is all.” I forced myself to keep the accusation out of my voice.
“Yeah, sorry ’bout that. I thought she would’ve left by then.”
So you weren’t planning on telling me, I mused, irritated. I didn’t want to sound like a clingy girlfriend. Even though he’d kind of claimed me at the barbecue, we’d still never officially had a talk. Had never discussed being exclusive.
I wanted to ask, get it all out in the open, but, at the same time, I was scared of his answer. I didn’t want to hear him say he was just looking for a good time and that it was nothing serious to him when it was becoming everything to me.
Gritting my teeth, I tried to withdraw my foot, but he wouldn’t let me, holding on tighter and massaging the tendon on the back of my heel. Damn him, his fingers felt good too. Lying there, sipping coffee, having him pressed against me while he rubbed my feet. It was hard to stay upset when I wasn’t even sure we were a couple, if he had even done anything wrong. Yeah, I had fallen in love with him, but that was my problem, not his.
The moment stretched. He was relaxed beside me, his body harboring no tension to make me think he was lying. I started to feel foolish for my paranoia. His hands switched to my other foot, giving it the same thorough treatment as the first one.
“What are your plans this week?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Lifeguarding until Thursday and a photo shoot on Friday. I’ll probably spend most of Saturday packing before the flight Sunday.”
The hands around my feet squeezed. “Your trip to Grand Cayman is next weekend? I thought it was two weeks away. Fuck.”
“Problem?”
“Yeah, I just booked a big tournament out of Charleston for Thursday through Saturday. I wouldn’t have done it if I realized you were about to leave for three weeks.”
I made a face. “Can you get out of it?”
“Not easily. It’s a new client for me, one who does a lot of business around here in the summer, and he could turn into a great repeat customer if the weekend goes well. I could see if one of the other companies can do it instead, I guess—”
“No, don’t do that,” I interrupted, hating to see his business suffer. We both needed every booking we could get. I nibbled my lower lip. “Do you want to go out Wednesday night, before you leave? What time are you done Saturday? Will you be back in the evening?”
He resumed working on my foot, giving each toe individual attention. “Wednesday night, I’m all yours. And I can just leave the boat at the marina on Saturday night. I’ll go up on Sunday to get it out of the water and bring it back to Reynolds.”
“That’d be nice.”
“If nice is the word you’re using to describe it, I’m not doing something right,” he teased, leaning down to suck my toe into his mouth.
Surprised, I pulled back, my leg jerking down the length of his body and over his hard—oh! I stared at his erection tenting his shorts.
“Hey, Sadie?”
“Yeah?” I asked, my attention still focused on his lap.
“You got any plans this morning?”
I peered at him from under my lashes. “You have something in mind?”
“Yeah. A little water desensitization exercise I think we should try. It involves the outdoor shower.”
“If you think it’ll help . . .” I ran the sole of my foot over his hard length.
“We can keep practicing until you feel comfortable with it. No matter how long it takes.”
It took the rest of the morning.
Getting clean had never been so dirty.
THE FIRST PART of the week dragged, the only highlight being when West slipped into bed with me late on Tuesday night for a sleepover. By Wednesday afternoon, I was counting down the hours until our date. I hoped he planned on taking me someplace other than the Wreck, but honestly, I was happy just to spend some time with him.
Kendra grew annoyed with me checking my watch every few minutes and, at four o’clock, told me she’d finish solo and to get the hell out of there because I was making her crazy. Wrapping her in a quick hug, I grabbed my gear and scooted back home to get ready.
Even though we were going to see each other Saturday night too, I knew that’d probably be a group event, and I used the extra time I had to prep to go all out. Conditioning treatment for my hair, straightening iron, shaving all the necessary places, more makeup than normal. I slipped on a dress and shoes that weren’t flip flops for a change, knowing he’d like me no matter what I wore, but wanting tonight to be special.
Settling onto the porch with my laptop to browse Pinterest while I waited for West to text that he was ready, I lost track of time as I scrolled through hotel pictures for inspiration for my big trip. The new board I started pinning to had over sixty images on it before I checked the time again.
Six-fifty.
What the hell?
Pulling out my phone, I checked for missed calls or texts.
Nothing.
Irritated, I called his number, waiting as it rang and rang. I didn’t leave a voicemail. After shooting off a quick text, I checked his Facebook page—and Aubrey’s. No recent posts from either of them.
Clenching my jaw in irritation, I tried to resume my research on Pinterest, but I couldn’t get back into it. Fifteen minutes later, I went inside to make myself a drink—Rue’s signature basil hard lemonade. I was on my second glass when seven-thirty rolled around.
At eight, I got tired of waiting and drove to the Wreck, wondering if maybe I was supposed to meet him there. No sign of him, and Wyatt confirmed he wasn’t scheduled to bartend that night.
At eight-thirty, he finally texted back.
West: Sorry, lost track of time. I’m not going to be able to make it tonight, babe. Can I get a raincheck?
Seething, I ordered my second cup of grog and chugged it like a man, using the back of my hand to wipe off the dribble of punch dripping down the corner of my mouth. Wyatt stopped in front of me, concern evident in his eyes, and asked if I needed anything.
Nope, just fucking peachy, thanks.
I shook my head and held up my empty cup for a refill. He got me another drink, but his expression was reluctant. Tough shit. I was a grown-ass woman, and if I wanted to drink alone at the bar, I damn well could.
I glared at my phone, as if it was to blame for the turn my evening had taken.
No, I didn’t want a damn raincheck. I wanted a date with the guy I couldn’t get off my mind.
Me: Where are you? What happened?
I hated myself as soon as I hit send on that message, sensing the neediness those five words revealed. Two more drinks sank in my belly before I got tired of waiting for a reply.
Fuck him.
Pushing to my feet, I headed for the door, my path not as straight as I had intended it to be. I was drunk. And past caring. And even though I knew I shouldn’t be behind the wheel at all, I drove by his house, noticing his car was missing.
Unable to help myself, I took the long way home, the really long way, the one that detoured all the way past Aubrey’s fairytale mansion. Her luxury compact was MIA too.
Well, wasn’t that just fucking convenient.
It wasn’t proof of anything. Not really. I repeated that to myself, trying to believe it.
Not wanting to see anything else, I went straight home, dropping into bed without taking off my makeup. My mind swirled with denials as I drifted off to a restless sleep.
A KNOCK ON MY window woke me up before the sun was even peeking over the horizon. Grumbling, I stumbled to the blinds, squinting out into the gray sky.
West.
I hesitated, my sluggish brain trying to process his appearance. Finally, I sighed and pointed toward the door. Walking through the cottage to meet him, I shoved a hand through the snarls of my hair, knowing I looked like a hot mess and not giving a shit.
I didn’t let him in. Instead, I slipped out the door to join him on the porch. Even pre-dawn, the air was already warm and humid. My thin tank and cotton shorts weren’t much protection from his hot gaze raking over me. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hide the reaction my nipples were having to the sight of his scruffy face and his blatant perusal.
Pulling his arm out from behind his back, he handed me a small bouquet of white and blue flowers. My eyes widened in surprise. He’d never brought me flowers before. I raised them to my nose, sniffing in appreciation. His other hand presented me with three paper airplanes, each folded differently.
I cocked my head in question. We hadn’t spoken a word yet, and the silence seemed ominous, even though he came bearing gifts.
Leaning close, he tucked an unruly strand of hair behind my ear. “One for each day I’ll be gone.”
After a long moment, I accepted them, tucking them under my arm for later. The flowers were nice, but they weren’t what I needed right now. I just wanted to know what happened last night.
I waited, leaning against the doorjamb, letting my eyes do all the talking I needed.
“Sadie, I’m sorry about last night.” His hands came up to cup my shoulders, but my expression remained unchanged. “I was having trouble with an engine, and I was using my phone to stream YouTube videos on how to fix it, as ridiculous as that sounds. It killed my battery. I didn’t find your text until a few hours ago. I haven’t even been to bed. I’ve been working on it all night—look.”
He held up his hand near my face, the porch light illuminating a myriad of small cuts around his knuckles and grease under the nails.
“I hate that I missed one of our last nights together for a while. I saw Wyatt when I went by the house to grab some gear. He said you stopped by the Wreck? And you had dressed up?”
I nodded once.
“Did you take a picture?” he asked hopefully, tipping my chin up so he could see me better.
“Nope.”
He deflated, and a twinge of conscience hit me.
Studying him closer, I saw the bags under his eyes. And he smelled like motor oil. He didn’t look like a guy who’d been out partying and having a good time without me last night.
“Right.” He nodded. “I deserve that. I just wanted to apologize in person before I left. I’ll miss you. I’ll try to do a better job texting while I’m gone, okay?”
I licked my lips, hating that I cared so much, hating the power he had over my mood.
Taking the flowers from me and setting them down on the doormat, he wrapped his big arms around me, tugging me into his embrace. I stood stiffly at first, but my body responded to his heat, melting into it, softening. When he nudged my face up for a kiss, I didn’t resist.
His lips were soft, gentle. The kiss was undemanding and slow, a promise of what was to come. I slid my arms around his back and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer. My lips opened and his tongue swept inside, tangling with mine, but not trying to dominate.
He tasted like coffee. As our lips slanted together, he cupped my face, and I lifted up on my tiptoes to keep the connection. Finally breaking apart, he rained kisses over my nose, cheeks, and forehead.
“I gotta go. I won’t make it to Charleston in time if I don’t leave now.”
The words clawed at the back of my throat. I wanted to tell him how I felt but not like this. Swallowing them back, I bit my lip hard. I couldn’t say them. Not until I knew he felt it too.
“Good luck.” My voice was rough.
“See you Saturday night. I promise. No excuses.”
Brushing one last kiss over my forehead, he turned toward the road. I hadn’t even noticed the big dually sitting there, his huge boat hooked behind it.
The first rays of dawn cracked the morning sky as he drove away. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted to cry as he disappeared.
HE KEPT HIS word. Texts and pictures pinged my phone at regular intervals on Thursday and Friday, helping the time pass faster. We flirted, we teased, we mocked each other. We swapped goofy selfies. On Saturday, I couldn’t wait any longer to see him. I hatched a scheme to meet him at the marina when he docked, planning on surprising him.
The only problem was, I wasn’t exactly sure when he was going to be back. I knew the tournament ended at one, but the marina he had a slip at was a little farther away, and I didn’t know how long it would take in between. I’d tried texting a few times, but he’d been pretty quiet today. He had sent me a “Good morning” text hours before my alarm went off. As I munched on cereal, I received a message saying he wouldn’t be around much and that he was going to be pretty busy.
I’d sent a few more and hadn’t heard back. But that was okay. At least he was doing a better job communicating.
Feet propped on the chair across from me, I was sitting at the marina café on the edge of the shore, the rows of docks spread out before me. I knew what his boat looked like, so I scanned the water every couple minutes while I played around on my phone. My last text to West had finally gotten a reply four minutes ago.
West: Almost done. Got a few more things to finish doing, and then I’m headed your way.
I sent back a smiley face and ordered a bottle of water from the waiter. I got tired of Pinterest after a while and switched over to Facebook. Rue had some new shots up from her trip to St. Augustine. Hailey and Cody were making fish lips in a selfie. My brother was giving a side hug to a redhead I didn’t recognize. Pausing on that picture, I sent him a private message, asking who the girl was. Aubrey had commented on a photo Wyatt had posted of General Beauregard, and I couldn’t help but click on her name.
I snorted at the photos she had posted just from today. A view over the water. A selfie of her wearing a plunging bikini top. Her patriotic pedicure. Did she think anyone cared what her toes looked like?
Opening the picture up, I saw it had thirty-two likes and eight comments. Okay, maybe people did care what her toes looked like.
Glancing up again, I saw West’s boat pulling in at one of the far slips. He threw a line to an employee and cut the engines as the boat drew up snug to the dock.
A huge smile spread across my face. His expression was hidden under the brim of the baseball hat he had pulled low on his forehead, but just seeing his muscles rippling in the sun was enough to have me rubbing my thighs together in anticipation. I couldn’t wait for him to realize I was here waiting for him.
As I packed away my phone and my bottle of water into my bag, a familiar voice drifted across the salt air.
I froze.
No.
It couldn’t be.
My eyes had to be playing tricks on me. I lowered my sunglasses to be sure.
West was walking down the dock, carrying a laughing, bikini-clad Aubrey in his arms like a baby, her arms thrown around his bare shoulders. I recognized that bikini. It was the same one from the picture. She reached up and snagged the hat off his head, settling it onto her own. They walked right by me, neither one of them glancing over.
His definition of a few things to finish doing apparently wasn’t the same as mine at all.
I flashed back to Nashville. To Asshole.
Déjà vu washed over me.
Not again.