6
Blake
I dropped Sierra off on her aunt’s pier and didn’t even look over my shoulder. I wasn’t supposed to care if she made it inside the house, or if she even fell over into the dark waters.
It was stupid relieving old high school pranks about ghost stories and shit that was from the past.
I chugged the last of my beer and steered us back. Cole could wake up in the morning to a neck full of mosquito bites. I left him snoring on the bow and hopped off.
I didn’t know if I could shake it. If I could pretend she wasn’t here. I drove home with fireworks exploding overhead.
My palm slammed into the steering wheel. My summer was fucked. The peace I needed off the field to be the warrior I needed to be on the field was fucked. The last shred of solitude I had found in my life was fucked because Sierra Emory had decided to come home.
It didn’t matter she hadn’t been seen here in eight years. She never visited her aunt. I heard she didn’t even make the funeral.
And now what? She thought she could parade that tight ass into one of Shirley’s parties and all would be forgiven?
No one around here cared she was some kind of hot as shit reporter in Dallas. Money didn’t impress islanders. Neither did fame. Hard work did. Loyalty. Family. She’d fucked all that up.
And it was time someone told her she didn’t belong on this island.
I drove deeper through the winding streets until I parked outside of the two-story Victorian house.
It had been in Sierra’s family for over a hundred years. The islanders said Aunt Lindy’s father was crazy when he built it. They said it wouldn’t withstand a hurricane or even a nor’easter, but here it was, still standing.
I glared at the white siding and the drain pipe next to the upstairs bedroom. I’d helped Sierra sneak out more than once using the metal as a ladder.
I slammed the truck door, marching up the back stairs. They creaked under my weight.
“Sierra!” I pounded on the door. “Sierra. Open up.”
I heard the lock rattle and then she appeared on the other side of the screen. Her face glistened with tears.
What the fuck?
“What are you doing here?” She wiped at her cheeks with her fingertips.
“Why are you crying?” My shoulders were tense. My neck strained. I had walked up here with a mission to put her straight.
She shook her head. “It’s nothing. Stupid nostalgia I guess.”
“Nostalgia, huh?” I crossed my arms. It was fucking ironic is what it was.
“What’s wrong? Why are you banging on the door?”
“I thought we needed to get a few things straight.”
“Like what?”
“Are you going to let me in?” The screen door was a barrier between us.
Her hand rested on the latch and suddenly the door was open and I was inside the old house.
There were boxes everywhere. Half the furniture was covered in sheets.
The place was depressing.
There was a light on in the kitchen. Sierra leaned against the wooden countertop. “What is it? Did you show up to tell me more ghost stories? Because believe me, I have enough to last the rest of my life.”
“No. No ghost stories. But seeing you is like living one.”
“Ouch.” She lowered her eyes. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”
The anger flowed through my blood like hot lava. Did she have any idea what she’d done to me? Did she know what she’d cost me?
“Too long.” I clenched my teeth.
“Now that you’ve said it,” her pale blue eyes lifted to mine, “you can go, Blake.”
“You can’t throw me out.”
“Yes, I can. It might have been nice for two seconds to cruise around the island and hang out with Cole, but clearly that’s not going to work between us.”
“No. It’s not.” I took a step toward her. The light behind her cast her into a dark shadow, but I could still see the tears glistening on her cheeks.
“So leave then. Let me be miserable on my own. Can’t you do that?”
I stopped in front of her and inhaled the air around us. I could smell her perfume. Her shampoo. I could almost taste the strawberry lip gloss that she’d used to wear on her lips.
“I’m not going until I’ve said what I have to say,” I growled.
Her eyes flared. “Then say it and get out.”
My hand snaked around her waist, pulling her toward me. In an instant my lips crashed into hers as she threw her arms around my neck. The kiss was hot and fiery. Enough to make my cock throb. My tongue found hers twisting and sliding in a rhythm that was at the same time new and familiar.
I tugged her hair through my hands, deepening the contact until I heard that perfect little purr she made. The one I’d never forgotten. The one that haunted me like a damn siren’s song.
My blood raged with heat. My cock throbbed. My hands coasted over her body. And then I realized I had a chance to fuck Sierra Emory again and everything went black.