Chapter Six
Rhenn
I spend the next two days doing the exact opposite of what I’m supposed to do: stay away from Marissa.
Instead, I find myself seeking her out, asking her stupid questions regarding the remodel and rewire that I already know the answer to or could find in the plans from the contractor. I eat lunch on the same porch as she, engaging in as much small talk as possible and soaking up as much Marissa time as I possibly can.
That’s exactly what I’m doing on Friday, the last workday before the three-day Memorial Day holiday weekend. I’m working in the same guest bedroom as she is, the outlet covers all off as I change out each receptacle and light switch with new, updated versions. The rewire is going well, even though I have to climb into a nineteenth century attic that has seen better days.
Marissa has stripped the bed and the old mattress was thrown out into the dumpster. She’s working on cleaning the antique wooden frame, wiping away the soot and grime left behind from the fire. It’s extremely time consuming, meticulous, and takes several swipes of the sponge to clear away the remnants of the fire.
The problem that I have now is, even though the mattress is gone and I’m staring at a bedframe, the image of her lying across this very bed that she’s cleaning. Call it a wish list image, if you will. No, she hasn’t so much as made an implication that she’d be interested in a little afternoon delight, but the daydreams are there, nonetheless. They’re bright, dirty, and there’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll replay them at least a dozen times tonight while I’m jacking off in the shower. Tonight it’ll be the bed. Last night it was on my boat. I have a plethora of sexual fantasies starring the one and only Marissa Grayson.
“Big plans this holiday weekend?” I ask casually as I cut the protruding wire from the outlet and work on hooking up the new receptacle. I feel her eyes on me as I finish with the rewire and turn her way. She’s giving me a curious look, as if she has no clue what I’m talking about. “Memorial Day weekend.”
“Oh, shit. I forgot,” she says absently, turning her attention back to the decorative woodwork. Lucky fucking bedframe. “No plans. I’m sure I’ll be working here all weekend.”
My mind wanders back to the weekend and all I have to accomplish. I have to check out of the bed and breakfast I’m staying at, drive back to Jupiter Bay, meet up with my friend Nick and his wife, and then turn around and come back on Sunday. But even when you take all of the running around into consideration, it’s not a chore or an obligation. It’s something I look forward to. Especially because Sunday night and Monday are mine. I’ll have my boat and my friends, and can’t wait to unwind in the sun and breeze. “Nick and Meghan are coming back with me,” I mention.
“They are? I’d love to meet them.” I glance over at Marissa who’s breaking a sweat as she scrubs the ornate woodwork. Without giving it a second thought (or a first thought, really), I stand up and walk to where she’s positioned between the slats of the bed that hold the box spring. My dick twitches in my pants, a subtle reminder that it hasn’t seen any bedroom action in longer than he’s used to. Not saying a word, I reach for the scrubber, my fingers connecting with hers. She gasps, her wide green eyes slamming into mine with the force of a Category 4 hurricane. My gut tightens, as it does every time she gazes up at me, and my breathing halts.
Marissa doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, as I wrap my fingers around hers, slowly and gently removing the scrubber from her hand. She’s panting, and to be honest, I’m not sure if it’s from exerting herself in her quest to clean the bed or if it’s from this undeniable attraction that I know isn’t one-sided. She feels it the same way I do. It’s written in her eyes and etched on her beautiful face.
And it takes every ounce of control I have not to taste it on her lips.
Instead, I keep with my original plan and gently pull the sponge from her hand. She lets go, her eyes never leaving mine, as her mouth falls open into a seductive little O. Fuck, what I’d love to do to that mouth. My cock is fully on board now, straining against my zipper and all but crawling from my pants.
“Grab a drink,” I instruct, nodding toward the small cooler with bottles of water. She gives me a look, as if I just spoke Greek.
Turning my back, I start to scrub on the soot. It’s thicker than I expect, much more difficult to clear away with a simple wipe, which surprises me a bit. I guess now I know why she has been working up a sweat. It also reiterates my thought that she could use a break, but won’t take it for fear that she’ll never get her tasks complete. Marissa’s a hard worker, this is evident by the way she’s doing all of the deep, heavy cleaning herself instead of paying a service to take care of it. That thought alone turns me on a little more.
“So, tell me about growing up in Rockland Falls. Have you lived here your entire life?” I ask, concentrating on trying to clear away the grime off the ornate wood.
I hear her finally move, walking over to the cooler to grab a drink, as suggested. I glance over my shoulder just as she props her back against the doorframe and slowly lowers herself to the floor. She looks exhausted and we’re only at the end of week one. There’s tons of work to be done, including the cleaning of the remaining three guest rooms, plus all of the living spaces below. It’s a daunting task, even to me.
“Yeah, I was born and raised here. I’ve lived here at this place since I was little. Went to junior college and took some business and hospitality classes, but my real passion has always been cooking.”
I stop scrubbing and follow the sound of her voice. She’s looking off to the left out the window, and I’m immediately drawn to her, needing to hear more words fall from that mouth of hers. “What do you like to cook?” I ask, returning my attention to the task at hand, yet keeping one eye firmly on the beautiful woman across the room.
“Everything,” she says with a smile. “I make an amazing red velvet soufflé with mascarpone cream and wild mushroom asiago chicken, but my favorite is my zesty lemon blueberry pancakes with fresh maple syrup.”
My stomach growls.
The sponge falls to the floor.
Hearing this woman talk about food, the way her words ooze passion and happiness, has my insides twisted into knots and my dick throbbing in my pants. Well, more than it already was.
“Hearing you talk about food is almost orgasmic,” I tell her, offering a smirk and a wink.
Her eyes meet mine, the irises dark and alluring, as a bubble of laughter spills from her lips. Those fucking lips. I almost have to bite my fist to keep from groaning. “They always say food is the second fastest way to a man’s heart,” she says with a shrug.
“The second? What’s the first?” I ask, taking a step toward her.
“Sex.”
And there it is. The one word I’ve prayed to never slip past her tongue. The one word that makes me want to throw out every reason why I should be staying as far away from her as possible, yet I can’t seem to do just that. Instead, I make excuses to be near her, to talk to her, to touch her.
Like now. I’m standing right in front of her, and I can’t stop myself from dropping to my ass on the hardwood floor. My legs touch hers, a whisper of a graze that makes my entire body rigid and hyperaware. Her green eyes follow my movements as I shift my legs to the side, careful not to disrupt her casual posture, but she’s anything but casual. I can feel the nervousness and the excitement oozing from her pores. I make her anxious, and I hope it’s because of this unspoken attraction and not something else.
I don’t believe it’s anything else.
She feels it, and so do I. The problem is that I’ve fought the desire to act upon said attraction, and right now, sitting here on the floor, I just don’t fucking care to fight it anymore.
I want to kiss her.
I want to wrap my arms around her and pull her close.
I want to thread my fingers into that long, blonde hair and devour her mouth with my own.
I want to feel the way she writhes against me and hear the sounds of surrender spill from her lips.
I want more.
I want it all.
Reaching forward, I remove the strand of hair that is stuck to her lips. As soon as I do, her tongue snakes out, wetting the very lips I’ve been dreaming about. My eyes drop down, watching with fascination, as she holds her breath, waiting. I could lean in. I could steal the kiss I’ve been fantasizing about. By the look in her eyes, she’d be completely on board with this plan, but I know it wouldn’t be enough.
It may never be enough.
I want more.
“I have an idea,” I say softly, my finger trailing a blazing path up her soft cheek as I tuck the hair behind her ear.
She doesn’t say a word or even a sound.
“Come with me this weekend on my boat.”
Marissa blinks at me, seeming to register what I said. “I get seasick.” Her words are small and wounded, as if she’s sad I didn’t remember that tidbit of information. But the thing is: I’ve not forgotten. I haven’t forgotten one tiny detail when it comes to this woman.
“I remember,” I say, keeping my hand on her hair. “I have Dramamine for you, and my friends are coming down this weekend. I think you’ll like Nick and Meghan, your cousin. Plus, you could use a break. It’s a holiday weekend, and I’d hate to see you working your tail off in the house while you could be out relaxing, soaking up the sun, and spending time with friends.”
She seems to be considering my offer, and I know her answer could go either way. The possibility of her turning me down sits like a lead brick in my gut. The prospect of spending time with Marissa on my boat, in my element, has me all sorts of giddy.
And I don’t fucking do giddy.
“If you start to feel lousy at any point, I’ll turn around and bring you home. No questions asked.”
The worry lines around her eyes disappear as she relaxes, and I know what her answer is going to be. She’s about to say yes, and I couldn’t be happier about it. In fact, I’m fucking ecstatic, my wheels already spinning with where we can go and what all we can do. I’m determined to make this trip a good one for her in hopes that she won’t be afraid to go again in the very near future.
“I’ll go…under one condition,” she says, her lips turning upward into a small smile.
“Anything.” I glance down and realize I’m holding her hand. At some point, when I was transfixed on her gaze, I had dropped my hands and reached for hers. I’m not sure if she realizes it yet I’m holding her hand, but if she does, she hasn’t pulled away. I like it.
“I get to cook for you.”
Again, my stomach growls loudly, followed by a burst of laughter from Marissa. “Deal.”
* * *
My phone is ringing as I step out of the en suite shower. Holding the towel around my waist, I make a dive for the device before the caller can hang up. I smile when I see my best friend’s name on the screen.
“Hey, man.”
“How’s it going?” he responds.
“Good. Just got home from work a bit ago. Getting ready to head downstairs for dinner,” I tell him, tucking the end of the towel against my lower stomach to keep it in place.
“I was hoping I’d catch you before you went out for the evening,” he says casually, though the implication is there. For too many years, my friend has watched me go out, have a few drinks, and take home whatever girl has caught my attention for the night.
The problem is that only one girl has caught my attention. I’m trapped in Marissa’s web, and there hasn’t been a woman since I met her. Hell, there hasn’t been a woman since my best friend’s wedding three weeks ago, and that’s saying something. I’m not sure yet what that is, nor am I ready to dissect it. Nick doesn’t need to know I’m off my game a bit or that I’ve been sidetracked by a beautiful blonde with alluring green eyes.
Opting to forego that tidbit of information, I reply with, “What’s up?”
“Meg and I were thinking. It’s silly for you to drive all the way here, just to drive your boat back down there. Plus, I’d have to drive your truck, and Meg would have to bring our vehicle so we can get back home Monday night.”
I have to admit, it’s a lot of unnecessary vehicle jockeying.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“I’ll bring the boat.” I open my mouth to protest, but he continues before I can get a word out. “Before you start bitching, you know I could drive it just fine. Meghan will bring her car down, and we’ll only be making one trip. You won’t be going back and forth, which is completely needless.”
He has a point. It’s not that I don’t want Nick to drive my boat down. Hell, the asshole has captained it plenty of times back home, including in and out of the marina, but he’s never taken it without me. Suddenly, I feel like I’m relinquishing my truck to my sixteen-year-old kid who just got his license.
“We were talking about heading out early tomorrow morning,” he adds, breaking through my thoughts. “I can be there by two.”
Having my boat arrive on Saturday instead of Sunday is a plus. I could get a few hours of work in that morning while I wait for my friends to arrive. Then, we’ll have Saturday and Sunday nights on the boat to hang out, plus the days to sail. It actually is a pretty good idea.
“Fine,” I say begrudgingly.
“Really? I thought you’d put up more of a fight. I had an entire speech prepared to follow up with your first no.”
Dick.
“I’ll call the marina and have them get it ready for you. Just don’t scratch up my baby or I’ll have to beat the shit out of you on the mat,” I reply, referring to the mats at my karate dojo. Nick and I work out together most mornings, and sparring with my friend has always been one of my favorite things to do. He’s not quite to the degree of black belt as me, but he can hold his own when we face off. Being away from Jupiter Bay this week has taken a toll on my routine. If I’m not careful, I’m liable to fall into an undisciplined pattern, and that’s another distraction I can’t afford.
“When was the last time you beat the shit out of me?” he mouths off through the line.
“Last week.”
“You kneed me in the balls,” he yells.
“Don’t act like you didn’t love your wife fawning all over your swollen nads. She probably made it up to you five ways to Sunday that night.”
Nick chuckles. “That she did, my friend. That she did. Anyway, she’ll be there by noon. She wants to visit with Mary Ann and meet her cousins.”
That’s right, I forgot she hasn’t met Marissa yet. The grandparents were here right after the fire, along with Ryan and Jaime (he’s a contractor who put her in touch with some names he knew in the area), but Meghan and the rest of her sisters haven’t met them yet.
“Sounds like a plan. You guys can stay on the boat with me,” I say, knowing that I’ll give up the master suite in the below deck for them.
“I’m not in the mood to listen to you screw your way through Rockland Falls, man,” he says, immediately grating on my nerves. In his defense, he doesn’t know that I’m not already sleeping with half the female population in town, but the assumption still pisses me off a little.
“No parties, no women. I’m looking forward to hanging out with my friends this weekend. I haven’t seen you much since the wedding.” I leave out the part about inviting Marissa along for the ride.
That seems to catch him off guard. He stumbles over his words, probably because he’s never heard me offer to leave extra female guests at home in favor of hanging with my friends. I almost tell him about Marissa, but decide to leave that one for later. He’ll start asking me questions I’m not prepared to answer, and I’m just not ready to get into the big, heavy shit right now.
“Sounds good, man. I’ll text you tomorrow when I’m getting close,” he says.
“Take care of my baby.” I know he will, but I feel the need to remind him.
“And you take care of mine,” he replies, his words confident and full of love.
Now I’m the one to stumble.
Is he talking about Meghan or…
“Yeah?” I ask, completely surprised, yet suddenly so very happy for my best friend.
“Yeah,” he says, the happiness radiating through the cell phone.
“When did you find out?”
“Right after the wedding. The honeymoon, actually. She spent the entire flight throwing up. That was our first tip,” Nick says with a chuckle.
“I’m happy for you, man. No one will make a better father than you.” And I mean that.
“Thanks,” he says with a sigh. “I’m nervous. Scared. She’s been through so much, and the last thing I want is for something to happen to her or the baby.”
He’s right. His new wife has been through more shit than anyone can imagine. But even though she lost her fiancé, she survived the heartbreak, and is now married to one of the best guys I know.
“Congrats, friend, and don’t you worry, I’ll take great care of her while you’re away,” I reply with a smirk, and even though he can’t see me, I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively.
“You’re wiggling your eyebrows, aren’t you? Keep your grimy manwhore hands off my pregnant wife, or I’ll have to kill you and toss your body into the ocean. They’ll never find you.”
I can’t help but laugh. I’d never touch my friend’s wife, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy getting him all riled up every now and again. “See you tomorrow.”
“Later,” he replies before disconnecting the phone.
So Nick is going to be a dad, huh? That might be the best thing I’ve heard since Meghan agreed to marry him. He’d loved her before he let his feelings be known, mostly because she was still reeling from the death of her fiancé, Josh.
But now they’re together.
Happy.
Having a baby.
And the slightest bit of jealousy bubbles to the surface.
He has it all. He was one of the lucky ones. Meghan didn’t fuck him over – or more accurately – fuck his friend. She didn’t try to blame him for their relationship troubles. She didn’t push him straight into a new role in life, complete with different women in his arms every night, dulling the pain the only way he knew how.
He got a good one.
And I got broken.