Wet (The Water's Edge #1) (10 page)

General Beauregard let out a soft whine of pure bliss and laid his head against me. When I turned to glance at him, his tongue swiped my cheek, and his tail thumped against the floor. West laughed and gave the dog one last pat. “I know, buddy. She does look good first thing in the morning.”

My cheeks warmed. And other parts of me did too.

His arm brushed against my breasts as he pulled it back, and my nipples budded in response. He flipped back the covers on his side and padded across the room to a set of sliding glass doors, opening one enough so that the hound slipped out. The sunrise peeked over the ocean through the glass, but it barely registered before my eyes returned to West.

He stood looking out the door in just a pair of boxer briefs. He was all golden skin and lean muscle, with a tight ass hugged by some thin black fabric. I was jealous of that fabric. As he turned back to face me, the grooved definition of his abs was on display, his torso narrowing to a tempting V before disappearing. My eyes dropped lower, taking in the prominent bulge in his shorts. Maybe I was still dreaming. That would explain everything but the jackhammer in my skull. The light dimmed as he drew the curtains and shut out the light.

Slipping back into bed and covering his lower body, he turned on his side and faced me, one arm tunneling under the pillow beneath his head, the other resting between us. I kept my eyes on his fingers and tried to focus. I did a quick inventory of my body. My head was pounding, but the darkened room helped. My stomach was clenching, but I blamed that more on the view than the hangover. I tensed my legs experimentally. My thighs felt… fine. Not sore at all. What did that mean? Had the sex been bad? Or maybe he had been like Jared, and the act had been over so fast that my muscles never even got a workout.

“Coffee,” I croaked, turning away from him. I couldn’t be expected to think clearly without coffee. I sat up on the side of the bed and swayed for a moment. Jesus Christ, my head. Looking down, I saw I was only wearing one of the logoed bar shirts from the Wreck and my underwear. My cutoffs were on the floor near the end of the bed, and I slid them on, grateful for the oversized length of the shirt.

Without looking back, I left the room, figuring the kitchen couldn’t be that hard to find. Sure enough, it was just down the hall and to the right. I pushed my wild hair out of my face and squinted around the too-bright room. Morning light filtered through curtainless windows and glinted off the oversized stainless steel fridge. I reached for the hair tie on my wrist, but it had disappeared along with the rest of my clothes.

Coffee. I smelled it. I had to be close. Turning around farther, I spotted it. Just past the retro enamel toaster, a glass pot sat beneath the small coffee maker, filled halfway with steaming brown liquid gold. I plucked a cup out of the sink, not caring if it was clean or dirty, and filled it to the brim. Leaning back against the counter, I inhaled deeply, trying to expel the smell of West from my mind.

As I took my first tentative sip, Wyatt walked into the room, wearing only board shorts. I swallowed the wrong way, coughing and sputtering before setting the cup down behind me, my lungs burning. What was it about these guys that messed with my basic ability to breathe properly? And what the fuck was Wyatt doing here?

Wyatt reached around me to pour himself a cup. “Mornin’,” he said, smiling at me with a knowing expression as his eyes ran down the length of my body.

I looked at him in dawning horror.

Oh. My.
God
.

Did I have a threesome last night?

Wyatt took another swallow and sauntered down the hall toward West’s room. He paused at West’s open door. “Surfin’ in twenty minutes, bro. You coming?”

I felt my face flame at his word choice. Had he already come this morning?

I couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation, only their sporadic laughter.
Oh, dear sweet Jesus, don’t let them be laughing at me
, I begged. I stared into my coffee cup like it held all the answers and then drank the hot liquid as fast as I could without scalding myself.

Ten minutes later, as I finished my second cup, West came down the hall, dressed in board shorts too. Only board shorts. Were they allergic to shirts? Was I wearing his last clean one or something?

He went to pour himself a cup of coffee and only the dregs were left. My fault. As he refilled the machine, he glanced at me warily. “How’re you feeling this morning? Can I give you a ride home?”

A ride
. My mind flashed back to his bedroom and his nearly naked body in the bed next to mine. I could almost picture myself under him, his narrow hips flexing between my legs. I peered out the window over the sink instead of meeting his eyes. That’s right. I knew where I was. I was only a few blocks from home.

“I’m good,” I said. “I can just walk.”

West leaned his hip against the counter and faced me. “You sure? It’s not a problem. I know—”

“It’s fine,” I cut him off, lifting my cup for one last swallow. My head was tolerable now.

He studied me for a long minute. “Okay. Let me just grab your clothes.” He disappeared around the corner and came back with a knotted, plastic Bi-Lo grocery bag. “I tried to rinse them out for you. I thought about washing them, but that pink shirt felt all delicate and crap, and I didn’t want to mess it up.”

I took the bag, not understanding what he was trying to explain, but eager to make a fast getaway. “Okay.”

He led the way through a cozy but masculine living room to the front door and followed me out onto the porch. Facing him nervously, I wet my lips. “Did we — me and you — or me and you and him — did we…” I trailed off, unable to finish my question. When he didn’t answer right away, I peeked up at him.

He looked at me with a steady gaze. “Does it feel like me and you, or me and you and him, did anything?” His voice was even, giving nothing away.

I narrowed my eyes at him and straightened my back. Using my sweetest voice, I hypothesized, “Maybe it just wasn’t that memorable.”

He glared at me. Leaning forward, he grabbed my upper arms, not hard, but enough to keep me in place. He dipped his head close to mine, his lips almost brushing my ear, and in a rough whisper said, “First of all, I don’t share with anybody, not even my brother. And, Sadie, trust me, when we sleep together, you’ll know it.” I pulled back, confused now. He must have seen it, because he crossed his arms over his chest and regarded me with exasperation. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

I looked away from him. “I remember you were going to give me a ride home.”

“Right. And then when we got to your house, you puked all over the bushes before you could even get up the stairs. It was such a turn on.” He curled his lip in annoyance. “I couldn’t leave you alone like that. My grandma would’ve skinned me alive if she found out I’d left you like that to fend for yourself. I figured I’d bring you back here to sleep it off. You messed your shirt all up, so I put you in one of mine. Like I said, I tried to clean it for you the best I could. I was worried you might get sick again, and I wanted to be close by, so I just put you in bed with me.”

I raised my eyebrow at him. “Convenient.” My tone was accusing.

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I thought so. Did you know you snore?”

“I do not!”

He smirked but didn’t say anything.

I glowered at him a moment longer before my manners grudgingly kicked in. “So, I guess I should say thanks for taking care of me. You didn’t have to do that. Most guys wouldn’t have.”

“I’m not most guys. But you’re right, damsels in distress aren’t normally my thing. You just seem to need more help than most.”

I straightened my backbone. “Excuse me?”

The expression on his face was pure disbelief. “The ocean, the hotel, last night. You should come with a warning label or something. ‘Needs saving from herself.’” He chuckled.

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” I sputtered, offended. Who the hell had designated him my white knight in board shorts anyway?

He grinned at me, and I knew he was enjoying this. “If you say so.”

I gritted my teeth. “Like I said, I
should
say thanks.”

“But you won’t,” he finished.

I smiled at him, or at least I tried to. It felt more like maybe I bared my teeth before I turned and stomped down the steps to the street, refusing to look back even though I felt his eyes on me until I turned the corner.

Three days later, I skipped down the path to the beach, exuberant. It was Tuesday, my day off this week, and I had spent the whole morning hanging out at the resort and taking pictures. When I’d met with Grady after lunch, I’d had plenty of photos to show him. He’d been receptive and even downloaded two dozen shots off my memory card to show his boss the following week. Rue had helped me come up with some ways to tie in the photography to the Edge’s Facebook page, and Grady looked especially intrigued when I pitched that idea. He said he’d be in touch, but that he was pretty sure we’d be able to come up with something that let me get behind the camera lens more. The meeting had gone so much better than I’d hoped.

I headed down to the beach to see what else I could capture for my portfolio before the crowds left. I knew there was a sandcastle contest for the kids finishing up, and I wanted to get some shots of it.

Jackpot. I strolled around the beachfront, squatting low and coercing the kids to pose next to their creations. Their excited faces shining from behind the wet sand mountains were endearing. The innocent glee of the moment came across well in the pictures. I zoomed in on a fiddler crab caught in the moat of one child’s abandoned fortress. Snapping a handful of quick shots, I panned up with the camera still held up to my eye.

West’s face appeared on my screen, magnified.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, startled, and lowered my arms self-consciously.

“Today? Today I’m driving the parasailing boat. Grady’s regular guy called in sick, and I was free, so here I am. What are you doing? I thought you were a lifeguard.”

“I am. But I’m supposed to be a photographer. I mean, I am a photographer, it’s just hard getting a new business off the ground.”

West laughed. “Yeah, I hear you on that one. Start up’s a bitch.”

I looked at him, puzzled. “You’re trying to break into the parasailing business? I thought the resort owned the boat and the sail?”

“They do, and I’m not. I owed Grady a favor though.” He smirked.

“Okay,” I said, taking a step away. “I’ll let you get back to it then.”

“Ever been up?” He took a step that mirrored mine, keeping even with me.

“On a parasail? Uh, no. And I don’t plan on it.”

“Why not? There’s nothing to it. You just kind of… float. Only, on the end of a rope instead of in the water.”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly what?” His eyebrows dipped down.

“It’s over the water.”

He looked at me sideways, comprehension dawning. “That’s right. You’re scared of the water. Well, let’s consider this step one in curing you of your phobia. You’re not going
in
the water. You’ll be going
over
the water. Way over.”

“What if I fall?”

He turned back to face me and dropped his chin down to meet my wide eyes. “I won’t let you fall. Sometimes, when I take the turn at the end of the island, your feet dip in for a second, but you’re not going to fall.”

“Don’t you have paying customers you should be taking up?” I asked.

“We’re in a lull. And it only takes fifteen minutes. Come on, let me help you. You live by the ocean now. This fear of yours is ridiculous.”

I shifted my weight from side to side. Holding my hand up to my eyes, I scanned the water. The ocean looked calm right now. Non-threatening. Toddlers splashed where the waves rolled onto the beach. Even they weren’t scared of getting their feet wet. “All right, fine,” I said, giving in with reluctance.

I followed him to the border of the resort property, where the hut for the parasailing rides stood, and enormous butterflies took wing in my stomach — whether from my impending doom or West’s presence, I wasn’t sure. I handed off my camera and bag to Josie, the attendant, and then slipped off my shoes before trailing after West to the harness. Josie followed and helped hook me in to all the straps while West ran over the safety spiel. When he explained the emergency release, I looked at him with alarm. “I thought you said I couldn’t fall!”

He sighed. “You are not going to fall. Trust me on this.”

“How do you know?”

“You’re strapped in.” He reached down to where the webbed belts connected around my pelvis, sliding two fingers under the edges and tugging to show me they weren’t loose. Catching my eye, he dragged his hand from one hip across my stomach to the other hip, his fingers brushing the top of my coral shorts. The butterflies ricocheted off my ribs. He tugged again. “See? All safe.”

I took a deep breath and looked at where his fingers were still touching me. Heat seared through the cotton of my shirt, warming my skin and igniting my blood. The corded bracelets were hanging on his wrist, one blue and white, one green, and one shades of tan. Mixed in with those was a royal blue elastic band. My fingers circled my own wrist, where I usually wore my hair tie. I had a white one on today, but I was missing my blue one from my night at Grady’s. I reached out and touched it. “Is that mine?”