Chapter 31
Gavin
HOW ABOUT A brAID?
Ialmost fucked her in the lake, but I didn’t.
Which feels like an accomplishment considering the way we made out like horny teenagers in the middle of the water. I could’ve taken her right there, slipped my cock in easily beneath the cover of water.
But then I remembered tenth grade microbiology.
Lake water is basically a soup of bacteria, algae, and microscopic nightmares that have no business anywhere near my wife’s pussy. If I’m going to fuck her outside, it’s going to be somewhere clean. Preferably a flat surface. With traction.
So I just held her, kissed her until we were both dizzy, and reminded myself I’m a grown man with impulse control.
Now it’s late afternoon and we’re back at the house, showered, and ready to head into town to meet Maggie and Carl for dinner.
Scottie is wearing a long, pretty dress that’s so flowy it hides her curves, until she turns around and the back is completely exposed.
No bra strap in sight.
Those delicious tits of hers are just flying free under all that fabric, taunting me, teasing me.
She’s standing in front of the full-length mirror, twisting her hair up in knot, but she keeps redoing it, unsatisfied with it.
“I don’t understand how when I don’t care about my hair at all, I can throw it up in the perfect messy bun, but when I’m actually trying, it looks like shit.”
“Let me try,” I offer.
She catches my gaze in the mirror, her brow raising in question.
“You want to do my hair?”
I shrug. “Why not? I do my daughter’s hair. I do my own hair. Why can’t I do yours?”
Her lips ease into a smile, soft at the corners.
“Alright.” She passes me a hair tie. “Have at it.”
Standing, I come up behind her. Taking an inhale of whatever addicting orange scented shampoo she uses before running be fingers through the strands, combing it gently.
Her neck is long and graceful, and my mouth aches to mark it, to mar that delicate skin.
The more time I spend with Scottie, the more I uncover things about myself I never knew existed. Jealousy. Possession. Obsession.
All of it new. All of it because of her.
I trail a delicate line down her spine, the tip of my finger grazing her skin. She shivers in response, goosebumps rising to her skin.
“How about a braid? I think it would look pretty running down your back.”
Her eyes light up, meeting the reflection of mine. “You’re full of surprises, Ledger.”
I roll my lips, biting a smile, and take that as a yes.
My fingers work quickly, muscle memory from years of doing Lily’s hair. Except this feels different. Scottie’s hair is thicker, silkier, longer.
I separate the sections and start weaving them over one another, slow and steady. Her shoulders relax with each pass of my fingers, like she didn’t realize how tense she was until now.
“You’re very gentle,” she says quietly.
“Lily is a very tough client. A little terrifying.”
That earns me a laugh.
I keep working the braid down the length of her back, tying it off with the band before letting the tail fall at the center of her back. A neat, smooth line of woven copper against her spine.
“There,” I say. “All done.”
She spins and looks over her shoulder at the braid cascading down.
“You did good,” she muses. “I might just have to keep you.” She giggles and then stares at it a bit more before putting on some jewelry to finish off the look.
Meanwhile, I’m stuck on her words, even though they were said in jest.
Because I’d love nothing more than to to be kept by her.
The Landing is located in the heart of downtown Wallula Lake, right on the water. It’s a rustic looking building with big windows and cedar beams adorned with string lights. The deck overlooks the marina, boats bobbing lazily against their ropes.
Maggie and Carl are already seated at a table near the back patio, and wave us over.
Carl stands to shake my hand and Maggie hugs Scottie, complimenting her dress.
We haven’t seen Andy since the bonfire, and I thought maybe he’d left, but I was wrong. He’s here. Joining us.
Scottie and I sit side-by-side, our knees brushing under the table ever so often.
You’d think an innocent touch like that wouldn’t really affect me, especially since we’ve been more intimate, but each little smidge of contact sends a jolt right to my groin.
I can’t imagine ever not wanting this woman. Viscerally. Constantly. Forever.
She smiles at me, a happy, easy smile, and it makes my heartbeat kick up just being on the receiving end of it.
Scottie recaps our hike and cliff jump to Carl and Maggie, who are completely enthralled in her story.
She doesn’t explain things like most people.
Everything is animated and exaggerated and detailed.
She tells a story like an artist would paint a picture, no detail left unturned, yet whoever is lucky enough to listen can’t get enough of it.
“Sounds like you two had a fun day,” Maggie says. “I dragged Carl around antiquing and it about wiped us out.”
Carl grunts, like he didn’t have the greatest time, but his gaze is soft as he looks at Maggie.
The server comes by, takes our drink orders, and the conversation drifts into easy, familiar territory.
Carl tells a story about some guy at the marina who tried to launch his boat without taking off the straps—Scottie is nearly crying laughing by the time he gets to the part where the thing was hanging sideways off the trailer, completely suspended.
Andy chimes in here and there, but not much, keeping one hand curled around his glass of whiskey. His eyes track Scottie more than the conversation, more than the lake view, more than anything else at this table.
The food arrives. Conversation quiets for a bit as everyone digs in. The lake outside glows gold with the dipping sun. The breeze is warm.
Which is when Carl clears his throat, using his napkin to dab his mouth.
“So,” he says casually, “we wanted to talk to you both about the house.”
Scottie stills beside me.
“We want to sell it to you,” Maggie says. “If you still want it.”
I’m quiet for a beat—not because I’m unsure, but because everything has been leading to this moment, and the last thing on my mind is the house.
If they want to sell it to me, I’m buying it.
That’s not the issue. But what I want more than that, is the woman beside me.
Had it not been for me overhearing Maggie and Carl, I’m not sure I would’ve ever had the guts to make a move.
And the more I think about that conversation, the more I wonder if what I heard was actually or correct or I pieced everything together to create a plausible reason I needed Scottie to be the one to do this with me.
It gave me the freedom to cross lines I normally wouldn’t, to be brave, to finally, after years, get the girl I’ve been silently yearning after.
Scottie kicks me under the table, cocking her head at me with her eyes wide.
Right.
I need to answer them.
“We’ll take it.”
Carl nods once, satisfied. “We’ll handle the paperwork this week. Should be straightforward.”
“This is bullshit,” Andy says before slamming back the last of his whiskey. “I can’t believe you’re going to let strangers live in that house when it’s rightfully mine.” He stalks off like a child.
Maggie sighs, rising like she might go after him but doesn’t. “Sorry,” she says with an uncomfortable laugh. “He’s our sentimental one.”
More like psychopathic one.
“There was another couple,” Carl starts. “They came up last weekend, and we just got a bad feeling about them.”
I didn’t realize we were in a competition at this point, but it’s nice to know we did something right. Whatever that may be.
Maggie wrinkles her nose. “They said they wanted to turn the house into a bed and breakfast. And we just couldn’t do that to the neighbors.”
“It’s not meant for that,” Carl says simply.
Scottie squeezes my thigh under the table. “I’m going to use the restroom.”
I nod, giving her hand a squeeze before she walks away.
Maggie and Carl continue to ramble about the house, things I need to know, but I’m likely going to forget.
I check my watch.
Scottie’s been gone for five minutes.
That’s not long at all, but there’s an unease sitting in my gut that tells me I should check on her. Just in case.
“I’m going to go make sure Scottie is okay,” I say, pushing up from my chair.
I find her near the back hallway, just outside the restroom.
And Andy is standing too close. Blocking her in. His shoulder angled toward hers. His voice low.
“I figured you for a screamer,” he says, tone dripping smug. “Glad to know I was right.”
His hand is running the length of her arm. Touching her. And she clearly doesn’t like it.
Scottie’s jaw is locked. Her spine stiff. She’s holding her ground, but she shouldn’t have to.
I don’t think.
I just move.
But right before I reach Andy, Scottie slaps him hard across the face, the smack echoing. “Don’t ever put your hands on me again or I’ll have my husband break every bone in your body.”
He’s drunk, I can tell by the sway of his body following the impact. And he’s a sloppy drunk at that.
My hand fists his collar, slamming back into the wall for good measure.
“Did you fucking touch my wife?”
His face reddens. “Relax, she wanted—”
I tighten my grip, my knuckles pressing into his throat. “If I hear you say one more word to her, one more word about her, I will put you through this wall.”
He swallows. Hard.
I release him only to grab him by the collar and drag him back out to the table, where Maggie and Carl both freeze mid-sentence.
Gently—painfully controlled—I shove him down into his seat, causing the whole table to shake.
“The only reason I am not dragging him outside,” I say, my voice level, not raised, “is out of respect for you two.”
Carl’s jaw is clenched tight. Maggie looks like she might throw her napkin in Andy’s face herself.
I turn to Scottie.
“You okay?” I ask.
Her eyes are soft.
Warm.
Brighter than the lake.
She nods.
“Let’s get out of here.”