Wet (The Water's Edge #1) (33 page)

“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.