Chapter Thirty-One
Victory
“Do we really have to say goodbye?” Wells asks, hugging me tighter.
We were having such a good time with his family, we stayed for a while.
When we finally left, I would have had to go straight to the ferry.
We weren’t ready to say goodbye, so I decided to take a later one.
We went for a walk on the beach and then had lunch at Trista’s, a cute café in town.
Now we’re on the dock by the ferry, and we’ve been trying to say goodbye for ten minutes.
I tip my face up, struggling to ignore the ache in my chest. “Let’s not—”
“Cool.” He takes a step toward the parking lot.
“Wells.” Everything he does tempts me to stay, but I’ve already missed too much work. “I have to go back.”
He groans and wraps me in his arms again. “Then I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Between filling you up with happiness and fucking you senseless, you’re going to find it difficult to concentrate on anything but us.”
God, I’m going to miss him. “What ever will I do?”
“Stay.” He kisses me. “I’m kidding. I know you have to go.”
“I do, but we don’t have to say goodbye. We can say, until Wednesday for our walkabout.”
“I like that better. I got used to you being here.”
“Me too. Thank you for chasing me.”
His brows slant. “Is your memory slipping? I might have to rethink this age-gap thing.”
“ Hey ,” I complain.
“I can only assume you’ve forgotten that you showed up at my work and poured your beautiful heart out in front of dozens of people. That makes you the chaser and me the sought-after extremely handsome and, if I may say so myself, insanely charming chasee .”
“Yes, but that was after you chased me, and my thank-you was sincere. If you hadn’t chased me, I would never have stepped out of my comfortable little box and chased you.”
He threads his fingers into the ends of my hair, tugging gently, and his voice turns seductive. “I’d like to step into your box .”
We made love every chance we got while I’ve been here, and still a thrill skitters through me. “Then I guess you’ll need to come to the city. Now kiss me before I miss my ferry.”
He makes no move to kiss me.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. I’m waiting for you to miss your ferry.”
I love how much he wants me, and I love how much I want him, but if I don’t force myself to leave, it’s just going to be harder after spending more time in his arms. “You’re making this very hard.”
He cocks a grin.
“ Don’t ,” I warn, knowing he’s about to make a dirty joke.
The ferry horn sounds, indicating a last call to board.
“I guess it’s time.” He cradles my face in his hands, gazing deeply into my eyes in that way that makes my heart sing, and whispers, “I’m going to miss your face,” and then he kisses me like he’s been waiting all day to do it.
We hold hands, sharing more kisses as we walk to the bottom of the ramp like we’ve just discovered how great kissing is. He hands me the duffel bag he lent me to bring home the things we bought on the island, and as silly as it is, I like that I’m taking a piece of him home with me.
We don’t say another word as I step onto the ramp, and our hands slide along each other’s palms to the very tips of our fingers. He catches mine and winks before he lets go.
Why does that make me swoon?
I head up the ramp. The ferry is busy, but not as crowded as it was on my way there. I make my way to the back and stand at the railing, waving to Wells as the ferry pulls away from the dock. I stay there, watching the island fade into the distance, reliving every minute of my time with him.
Shivering against the breeze and the emotions bubbling up inside me, I find a seat at the end of a bench. I cross my arms in an effort to ward off the chill and the emotions.
Suppressing those emotions isn’t easy when everything from the scent of the ocean to the boat itself reminds me of Wells.
I take a deep breath, telling myself I’ll see him in three days, and I’ll probably have so much work waiting for me when I get back, I’ll be lucky if I can get out on time to see him Wednesday night.
That thought gnaws at the pit of my stomach.
No. I am not falling back into that trap.
I’m not going to work from sunup until I drop into bed too tired to move.
I reach for my purse to grab my phone, so I can get a head start on emails.
But my purse isn’t beside me. I look at the railing where I was standing, but it’s not there.
Just as I start to panic, I remember putting it in the duffel bag.
Maybe my memory is failing.
Or maybe I am so happy and well fucked my brain can’t see past it.
I unzip the duffel, and as I pull out my purse, I see Wells’s hoodie.
You sneaky thing. I pull it out like it’s a long-awaited birthday gift, and a piece of paper flutters out with it.
The wind picks it up, and I chase it like my life depends on it.
I lunge for it as it sails toward a railing, and snag it between my fingertips. The people behind me clap.
I turn around, embarrassed, and an older gentleman says, “Must’ve been mighty important. I thought we were going to have to dive in after you.”
“It’s nice to know you would have. Thank you.” I sit back down on the bench, clutching the hoodie in my lap, and read the note.
Sweets,
I know you’re probably doodling my name on your notepads and dreaming about me day and night.
No need to be embarrassed. I’m a hot commodity.
Not as hot as you are, but that’s my cross to bear.
Wear my hoodie on the nights I’m not there to keep you warm, and remember me stripping it off you after the bonfire and loving every inch of your gorgeous body.
Your favorite man toy,
Wells
This man sows romance and nourishes it with everything he says and does.
I read the note again, then tuck it into my shorts pocket and press the hoodie to my nose, inhaling his familiar scent and the faint smell of the bonfire.
I put the hoodie on and take out my phone, thumbing out a message before I dive into emails.
Me: Thank you for the hoodie. You’re never getting it back.
Wells: That’s fair. I wasn’t planning on giving back your panties, either.
Me: You took my panties?
A devil emoji pops up.
A shiver of heat moves through me. I have no idea how he has that effect on me through text, but I hope it never changes.
I open the email app, and as expected, there are pages of unread emails.
Ugh . I haven’t checked them since Friday afternoon.
Scanning the subjects, I choose the one that looks most important and open it.
I start reading it, but my heart isn’t in it, and that brings a niggle of guilt.
I gaze out at the water, knowing I have to start sometime.
Follow your heart, put the people you love first, and don’t let anything stand in your way, because every hour you put something off is an hour you can never get back.
Sometime doesn’t have to be right now.
I open the WordLink app and send a game invitation to WellsSpells. My phone chimes when he accepts, and a message pops up.
WellsSpells: Prepare to lose, Braden.
And like magic, the pressure of work slips away, and I find myself smiling again.