Chapter 5
5
ANA
“C ould this thing run out of gas?” I asked.
I was having visions of the two of us getting stuck out here. We were heading toward a chunk of land. The other coast—the one with the trees. As the pond narrowed, I assumed we’d go all the way until we reached the end of this waterway. Carter had shifted away from the houses, probably to avoid making noise.
“I have an oar right down here,” he said, pointing to the bottom of the boat. “A soldier is always prepared.”
“I thought that was a Boy Scout.”
“I was never one of those, but yeah.”
He cut the motor as we reached land. I wondered if he was going to try to turn this thing around so we could head back to his cabin with me facing forward. That wasn’t necessary—but it was a sweet move. Instead, he grabbed the oar and paddled us until we reached the bank.
“I thought we might take a brief break,” he said. “Unless you’re in a hurry to get back to your room.”
I shook my head, then realized he might think I was saying no to the idea of taking a break. “No hurry. I could use the break.”
I didn’t even know what that meant. Taking a break from sitting while he motored me around the water? All I knew was he was getting out, and wherever he went, I’d follow. For tonight, anyway.
Once he was out, he came around and held out his hand. I slid mine inside it, and he pulled me to my feet—just like before when he’d helped me into the boat. Having his hand around mine sent sparks flying through my body. I even shivered a little.
But if Carter noticed, he didn’t show it. He just released my hand and turned, walking farther onto the plot of land. It was grass for several feet, then the trees started, so unless he wanted to walk through the forest, there wasn’t much to navigate.
Sure enough, he walked all the way to where the trees began and plopped down in front of one, leaning against the trunk. I followed him, but I didn’t sit against the tree. Instead, I sat cross-legged next to him and stared out at the water.
“You come here often?” I asked.
It seemed like a good idea. If I had a way to get over here, and I could be guaranteed some peace, I’d probably bring my e-reader and my tumbler full of wine, which I’d left in the boat, and hang out here myself.
“Never have before,” he said. “I mean, obviously I’ve ridden past it on the water numerous times. I’ve just never gotten out of the boat.”
Yet he’d chosen to do that tonight. It was almost like he was trying to draw out his time with me.
“I had a thought a few minutes ago,” I said. “What if the boat ran out of gas and we ended up stuck here on this piece of land, stranded for days?”
Of course, we both had our cell phones, but I realized when I looked over at him that my blabberings actually had substance. He was listening—and taking what I said a certain way. Did he think I was hitting on him?
Was I hitting on him?
No. That would be called flirting, and I didn’t even think I was doing that. But the fact that I second-guessed everything I said or did told me I was definitely into this guy.
“What if we were?” he asked. “What if I told you that boat is basically running on fumes right now?”
“There’s an oar,” I blurted.
What the fuck? If he was spinning a fantasy, I just chopped through it with a butcher knife.
He laughed. “That oar won’t get us all the way back. I mean, it could, but it would take us an hour or longer. May as well stay here until morning and text one of my buddies to bring us over a can of gas.”
I was staring at him now. Gaping, actually. Was he for real?
No. He wasn’t for real. There would be no reason to wait until morning to have someone bring us a can of gas. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet.
No reason—unless we wanted to be stranded here, where nobody could see us. Where it was the perfect weather outside and neither of us had any reason to rush back. Not a reason that overruled the allure of staying here together, anyway.
“What would we do all night?” he asked.
He’d been looking out at the water, but now he turned to face me. Our eyes met in a long, heat-filled stare.
“You were wearing sunglasses,” he said. “When we first met, I was dying to see what your eyes looked like. I assumed they’d be beautiful, but I had no idea.”
He’d called my eyes beautiful. Did that mean he thought I was beautiful?
It wasn’t like men didn’t tell me that. I was extra curvy, but I’d been that way from a young age, which had led to inappropriate looks and comments from men far too old—even when I was as young as fourteen or fifteen. It always ickified me.
Boys my own age weren’t really interested, though—not the ones I liked. They always went for the girls who could easily shop in the junior section without worrying about the neckline showing cleavage or pants fitting too tight. I got comments about how I must have butt implants, because nobody’s ass was that round and big naturally.
For a while, it definitely made me self-conscious. But my mom had instilled self-confidence in me. I knew how to set boundaries and fend off advances. What I had zero practice with was not fending them off.
I’d literally never been interested in a guy who liked me back. Since I first noticed boys when I was twelve, it was always me crushing on some guy who barely acknowledged my existence—or me running from a guy who couldn’t take a hint.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice hoarse.
That seemed too casual. I didn’t mean it that way. My attraction to him had me so tied in knots, I was having a tough time speaking and that was all I could force out.
“So, you didn’t answer my question,” he said.
I frowned. “What question?”
He’d just made a statement about my eyes and sunglasses. Had there been a question attached to it? I couldn’t even remember what he’d said seconds ago, my heart was racing so fast.
“What would we do all night?” he asked again.
Oh, that question. He wanted me to spin some kind of elaborate fantasy. How was it possible I knew the right thing to say when it came to my job, but when interacting with the hottest guy I’d ever seen, I was at a loss for words?
“I could tell you my whole life story,” I said. “That would put you to sleep, though.”
I’d cracked a joke. He didn’t want a joke. That was confirmed when he looked out over the water again. Was I supposed to say something sexy? Maybe suggestive? That definitely wasn’t me, but it brought to mind something I was curious about.
“Why are you still single?” I asked.
His expression changed. He didn’t look at me, but I saw his jaw tense a little and his shoulders square off slightly. His defenses had just gone up.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I was always prepared for deployment when I was in the military. I got out a couple of years ago and moved back home briefly. I guess it brought up a lot of bad memories. I had a serious relationship go bad when I was in high school. Well, as serious as a high school relationship can get. She did a number on my heart. It was just a puppy love sort of thing, but it kind of soured me on relationships.”
“So, you’ve sworn off women altogether?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t say that exactly.” He paused. “Well, actually, if you asked anyone, that’s exactly what I’ve done. But…”
A silence lingered between us, leaving me wondering what he was thinking about saying.
“I guess meeting you changed my mind on some things,” he finally said.
All the air left my lungs at those words. Like a balloon that had been popped. I wasn’t even sure what to say. Or think. Or feel. The most handsome man I’d ever seen just said meeting me changed some things.
“What about you?” he asked when I didn’t respond to his comment.
His tone had gone back to a neutral one. It didn’t have that edge it had earlier.
“Involuntarily single,” I said.
Now he looked over at me, a puzzled frown on his face. Yeah, he had no idea what that meant. I wasn’t sure I did either.
“I’ve never even had the kind of relationship you’re talking about,” I said. “I wish someone had stomped on my heart when I was sixteen. At least then I’d have some experience with something.”
Now I was just venting. And I was venting to a guy I might be trying to impress—not just for business reasons. That ship had sailed long ago. No, this was personal. I wanted this man to feel the same thing I did when I looked at him.
Going by my history, though, that was unlikely. I’d be into him and he wouldn’t be into me. It could never work out that it went both ways.
“You’re telling me you’ve never had a serious relationship?” he asked.
“I mean, I did go to prom with my best friend’s big brother. But that was far from romantic.”
In that case, I hadn’t even wanted it to be. I just wanted to go to prom. We double-dated, and it was a blast. But it wasn’t the same as going with a guy I really liked.
“My friend said I do it on purpose,” I said with a laugh. “We were in high school at the time. She was already armchair-diagnosing me.”
“Do what on purpose?” he asked.
Oh, yeah. I was thinking out loud. Understandable that he was confused.
“Pick guys who weren’t into me, and run from those who were.”
“You’re speaking in past tense,” he said. “Does that mean you don’t do it anymore?”
I thought about that a long moment. “I don’t know. I’ve been so focused on my career the past couple of years, I haven’t even gone on a date. I haven’t even been interested in a guy until now…”
This time, I was the one letting my voice trail off. I definitely hadn’t meant to blurt that out. But it was the truth. For two years, I’d pretty much numbed myself to anything having to do with relationships. I had plenty going on in my life. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was telling the truth.
“Until you met me,” he said.
There. It was out in the open. I could deny it, but I couldn’t help but flash back to what he’d said earlier about not finding a woman he was interested in until… His voice had drifted off, but he’d been talking about me. I’d been talking about him.
Yes, this feeling was definitely mutual. The question was, what was I going to do about it?