Nobody But You (2 page)

And then began to vibrate.

Lake Patrol Hottie stared down at it. “You have a license for this?” he asked.

“It's not mine!”

Mandy gave a big huff and gathered it up along with the rest of her lingerie, glaring at Sophie like this was all her fault. “I'll have you know, Lucas loved me
and
my Rabbit more than you.” Then she whirled and headed up the dock, her heels
click, click, click
ing, her vibrator humming along in accompaniment.

Sophie sighed into the awkward silence between her and Lake Patrol Hottie. Actually, it was probably just her who felt awkward, because he stood there looking perfectly comfortable and at ease.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” he said.

“Don't be. He didn't really die.” She backed to the bench next to the driver's seat and dropped onto it in sheer woozy exhaustion. “What I said was that he'd
passed
. As in he passed on
me
.”

And that was all she planned on saying on the subject.

Ever.

But apparently he didn't get the memo, because he crouched on the dock so that they were eye level and said nothing.

She grinded her teeth. The wind was back, dammit, and the boat began to rock. “Look, I said I'd move. I just need a minute.”

He nodded and…stayed right where he was.

“You don't believe me?” she asked.

“Just waiting to see if you need any help.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but he seemed to mean it. He really would assist her if she needed it. But she didn't need it. Not from him. Not from anyone.

Somehow she crawled behind the wheel. She started the boat before suddenly remembering she had to untie it first.

But her lake patrol guy was already on it, handling the ropes like he'd been born to the task, using his foot to push off on the hull so it didn't scrape against the dock and get damaged. He then tossed the rope into the boat. “You're good,” he said.

She stared at him. Was he kidding? She wasn't good. She was a hot mess, and they both knew it. But then again, he'd meant the boat, not her, and she knew that too. Still, she appreciated his unsolicited help. “Thanks,” she said.

He nodded. Waited a beat. “Need help finding the throttle?”

This actually made her smile. “You're a real charmer, you know that?”

“Yep. I'm fresh off the boat from charm school.”

“Where was it, Timbuktu?”

“Close,” he said, offering no further explanation.

Fine. Whatever. Over mysterious men, over men
period
, she hit the gas. When she glanced in the rearview mirror a minute later, he was still standing there on the dock, hands shoved in his pockets, watching her go.

T
he very last thing Jacob Kincaid had expected on his first day back in town was a run-in with a mysterious, temperamental, green-eyed cutie. Somehow she'd managed to pull him out of his own head while also irritating and amusing him.

She'd also made him feel alive.

Since that messed with his head more than a little bit, he got in his new Ford truck and took a ride. The truck had been a present to himself for making it stateside in one piece. It drove great, but his attention was distracted by his first view of Cedar Ridge in a long time.

It felt like a lifetime since he'd walked away from his family—his mom; twin brother, Hud; and the rest of the Kincaids—when he was an eighteen-year-old hothead. He hadn't been home.

Until now.

He'd been a lot of things in his lifetime: brother, son, friend, Army Special Forces officer.

He was none of those things at the moment, though he intended to change that. He had begun by leasing a small cabin on the lake only a mile outside of town, a place that had once upon a time been the only true home he'd ever known.

Not that he'd admitted this until recently, and then only to himself.

The cabin sat on the northeast line of the lake and was quiet and peaceful—two things his life had most definitely
never
been.

Something else he intended to change.

When he'd arrived late last night, he'd picked up the keys and spoken briefly to the Realtor, who'd tried to convince him to buy the cabin instead of renting it.

But Jacob no longer made quick, rash decisions.

Although he
had
chased away the first civilian woman he'd had contact with in a while, and he'd done it pretty quickly and rashly.

Yeah, he could've definitely done better there, he admitted. Clearly he was
way
out of practice at being sociable. Maybe he was more messed up than he'd thought, because he'd actually gotten a kick out of the way her eyes had flashed temper at him, at the world. It'd been like trying to deal with a fiercely angry, beautiful, injured feline, and in spite of the sharp claws, she'd given him something he hadn't felt in a damn long time.

Adrenaline. The good kind. And after nine years in the military, also a taste of the real world.

Town was…the same. It was small, geared to the tourists who came through to ski. The streets were filled with expensive clothing boutiques, art galleries, jewelry shops, a few cafés, bars, B and Bs, and the like. At age eighteen, Jacob had been climbing the walls here, bored, slowly suffocating.

Now, after having been overseas and seeing more shitholes than he cared to remember, he could see in Cedar Ridge what others did, a unique quaintness and charm.

He didn't want to take the risk of running into anyone he knew before he told his family he was home. They deserved to be told he was here, from his own mouth. But the need for caffeine overruled self-preservation. Striding into a coffee shop like he was on a mission, he bought coffee and a bagel to go and headed to the cabin.

Unscathed.

Red's boat was still gone, and relief filled him. And if there was also a twinge of something that felt suspiciously like disappointment, he didn't examine it too closely.

Instead, he found several paddleboards leaning against the side of the cabin and decided what the hell. He took one out onto the water, paddling himself into oblivion so that maybe he'd sleep that night instead of trying to figure out how to reach out to his family after all this time, now that he was on leave, or thinking about the reason he'd been given bereavement leave in the first place.

The next morning Jacob woke up to find his arms pleasantly sore from all the paddleboarding he'd been doing to clear his head. The morning's chilly June air sliced through the window he'd left open and right through him as well, sharp and pine scented. From flat on his back he could see a sliver of the lake, the surface littered with whitecaps, much rougher and choppier than the past few days.

He lay there a minute, unable to get his mind to shut off. It kept flashing images. Images of his closest friend, Brett, dying in his arms in the desolate wasteland that was Afghanistan. Images of the look on his twin's face when they'd fought that long-ago day. Jacob hadn't seen Hud since. Images of his mom, who with her dementia couldn't keep time or place or people straight but never forgot who he was.

Even Red had somehow wormed her way in; she was tough and snarky, and yet she'd shown him a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability too. The combination had caught his interest.

And attracted him.

Not that he had time to go there. Nope, he was concentrating all his energy on figuring out how to approach his family. Day two and he was still drawing a big zero on that front. He'd given no advance warning of his arrival because, hell, what did one say after nearly a decade of radio silence?

But today was the day. He'd stalled enough. And at the thought of what lay ahead for him, his gut tightened.

Nerves. Crazy. It'd been a damn long time since he'd been nervous about anything.

Rolling out of bed, he showered, dressed, and headed out, once again on the hunt for food he didn't have to make himself. Halfway to his truck, he glanced through the clumps of trees lining his property to the lake.

The Lucas
was moored at his dock again.

Changing directions, he headed down there and eyed the boat. No sign of Red, but he heard something from belowdecks. A…moan?

Walk away, soldier.

But hell. He couldn't do it. “Hello?” he called out. “Red?”

The ensuing silence was so thick that he could tell she'd stopped breathing. “I'm boarding,” he said, and when she didn't respond, he went for it, hoping she wasn't aiming a gun his way. As he did, she struggled on deck.

She wore a short, flowery skirt that flirted with her thighs and a white tank top, a forest-green sweater in one hand and a pair of high-heeled sandals dangling from the other.

With one look, she perfectly conveyed her annoyance as she sagged to the captain's chair and dropped her head to her knees. “Why you?” she moaned. “I mean, seriously, what the hell is up with my karma? It's like the bitch went on vacay. On another planet.”

“Nice to see you again too,” he said dryly. “You wanna tell me what's wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” she said to her knees, more than a little hint of the South in her tone. “I always talk to my knees while a stranger asks me twenty questions. Nope, I'm great. My glass is totally half full.”

This made him smile. Call him sick, but he loved snark in a woman. “Are you okay?”

“Fan-fricking-tastic. Only way today could get better is if I were scheduled for an appendectomy. Without drugs. In a third-world country.”

Snark and a bad 'tude, like she wouldn't hesitate to kick someone's ass if she needed to. Didn't get hotter than that. He crouched next to her so that he was level with her face, not that he could see it since it was still pressed to her legs. “You're not supposed to—”

“—moor here,” she said, very carefully not moving a single inch. “Yes, you ever-so-helpfully mentioned that yesterday.”

“I was going to say you're not supposed to look down when you're seasick. It makes it worse.”

“Oh.” She hesitated and then turned her head to look at him. “And you're not supposed to be nice when I'm not. But thanks—oh crap. Oh shit,” she whispered miserably as the boat rocked.

Jacob instinctively reached out and rubbed a hand over her back. “Have you tried Dramamine?”

“Yes. It doesn't work. I'm getting a patch today.”

“That'll help,” he said.

She nodded and sat up. “I'm sorry I'm here. I just need to stay docked for the day, okay? I know the cabin's for sale and no one lives there, so I don't see a problem with that.”

Other than she was getting off not having to pay the fees, which he suspected she couldn't afford. “Just so you know, the cabin's no longer empty,” he said, fully intending to also say that she could keep her boat on his dock as long as she needed.

But she made a sound that might have been a snort of laughter or a sob. A little terrified it was the latter, he rose to his full height just as she gasped, and then moaned, and…and threw up.

An inch from his shoes.

Welcome home, he thought, reaching for her, supporting her with one arm while with the other he tried to gather her hair. Problem was, she had a lot of it, and more than a few of the silky strands stuck stubbornly to the stubble on his jaw as she tried to weakly shove clear of him.

“So much for improving on your first impression of me,” she gasped. “Looks like you were lucky enough to draw the short straw on my crazy. Again.”

“Shh.” Her skin was waxy and green, so he held on to her, afraid she'd slide overboard and drown. “Give yourself a minute,” he said.

She sighed miserably and didn't look at him. “How many Dramamine do you think it'd take to just kill me?” she asked.

Jacob couldn't make a return quip, not on that. Not since just about every time he closed his eyes these days all he could see was Brett's coffin being lowered into the ground.

“I'm so sorry.” She sighed and straightened, still looking wobbly. “But hey, it must be your lucky day. I missed your shoes. Don't worry. I'll clean this up and be gone in no time.”

If only he believed that. “Wait here,” he said. He left the boat and strode to the cabin to get her some water and also to find a hose to help her clean up.

But when he got outside again, she and her boat were gone.

Which left nothing to distract him from what he had to do today, and at the thought, the unwelcome nerves returned with a vengeance, tap-dancing in his belly again.

She'd thrown up on the hot guy. Good Lord, Sophie thought weakly as she quickly cleaned up and then maneuvered the boat as far from the little cabin as she could get.

Easier said than done.

They'd had a violent summer storm over the past few days, which had made her seasickness so much worse. Especially since she'd had to move around, aka
sneak
around, to find places to moor.

The waves were larger than she'd ever navigated before. Feeling naked without a seat belt, she wrapped her ankle around the seat base so she wouldn't go flying out.

Because that would be more embarrassing than what had just happened. If that was even possible.

The problem was that she was crap at driving the boat. It was nothing like a car. When she steered, it didn't immediately react, and that guaranteed that she was always in the middle of correcting her previous maneuver. Compounding the problem was that because of the way the wind hit the water, she had to steer into the waves, riding up and over them just as the wave crested.

Not good. Several times
The Lucas
became airborne for a moment before slamming down, rattling her teeth. She did her best to battle her way through the brutal onslaught of choppy water, but every time she hit a bump, the shock of it jerked her hand on the throttle, speeding her up, slowing her down…

And in five seconds she was nauseous again.

None of which mattered right now because hello, she'd
thrown up on Hottie Lake Patrol Guy
.

And yes, he was hot. Very hot. The first time she'd seen him, she hadn't gotten a good look, but today she had. He was big, built pretty badass, and had stood there steady on his feet and stoic in army-green cargoes and a black T-shirt stretched to its limits across his broad chest. Eyes hidden behind those dark sunglasses, he'd held her hair back for her.

Oh God. It was possible she'd just hit an all-time low, but really she shouldn't underestimate herself.

As she drove, she searched for any other dock that looked deserted. Not that she was in a hurry to try to park this mother-effer. Because if she had trouble gliding across the water at speed, maneuvering the boat into a slip required skills and luck she didn't have. And something else she seriously lacked as well—patience.

But she had to get to work. Up until a few weeks ago, she'd worked at one of the local hotel chains, running the concierge crew for five locations, and she'd been great at it.

Then Lucas had slept with the CEO's wife and…well, Sophie had once again paid the price. Now she was temping, taking on every job that came her way out of desperation, because she was getting damned tired of ramen noodles, apples, and peanut butter.

And…she couldn't find a damn open dock. Finally, she turned and headed back, ending up right where she'd started—at the cabin. She stared at the empty dock and thought of the twenty bucks she'd save in campground day fees, which was good because she was currently so broke she couldn't even pay attention.

She slowed and eyed the dock, chewing on her lower lip.
You can't moor here…

That's what Hottie Lake Patrol Guy had said to her, but she'd heard so much more than that.

You can't major in “good times.”

You can't quit college. You're supposed to become someone.

You can't just casually flit your way through life being a fetch-it girl at a motel.

Life isn't always happiness. It has to mean something.

If you're not going to become someone, then at least marry Lucas, who will take care of you.

She shrugged it all off the best she could, because she was done listening to people. Her well-meaning parents. Her past bosses. Her so-called friends, who'd all gone AWOL since she'd left Lucas.

Nope, she was on a listening-only-to-her-heart kick.

And with that, she took the boat to the campgrounds. She managed to maneuver close to the dock and then brought up her bookmarked YouTube video on tying down a boat. And thanks to Hottie Lake Patrol Guy's advice, she used two tie-downs. She then scrounged up the cash for day fees—there went lunch—and rushed belowdecks.