Chapter 6 Caroline #2
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Tahoe,” I say. “We can talk about it later.”
“Nonsense. It’s a great idea. Everyone wants to see what you do up there…I mean, see your new house,” Britt says, staring at Tahoe. “Right, Whit?” she adds on as an afterthought, grabbing his elbow.
“Yeah. I’d love to see it. Coming here and snapping up all the prime real estate,” Whit mumbles, slinking back to the bar for a refill without as much as a nod.
Britt brushes him off, giggling nervously. “You’ll be there?” she asks Tahoe.
Malena even looks uncomfortable, shifting from one foot and looking off to the side.
Tahoe laughs, all white shark teeth and astonishment.
I shrink into myself a little more. Britt is proving why a relationship with Tahoe would never work.
He’s out of my league, and it’s obvious to everyone around us. Why do I care?
“I’ll be there. Caroline can’t keep me away. Right, Sunny?” Tahoe asks. It takes a second for me to realize he’s referring to me.
I let the nickname breeze past in lieu of ambivalence.
“Sure, yeah. Why not? This is all your idea,” I reply, handing my empty to Tahoe, which he grabs, eyes narrowed, curious about my attitude.
Social gatherings aren’t my thing. Ones where I’m the sole focus are of the variety that haunt my nightmares.
He has to know me enough to surmise it. Some sleuthing SEAL he’s turning out to be.
Whit returns with a new beer that Britt eyes down with unmasked hatred. He ignores Tahoe in favor of looking at me. With beady eyes, Whit bops his head to the new tune. “Crick’s Beach and now the airport, huh, Caroline? Didn’t take you for that kind.”
Neither did I. Wouldn’t have dreamed it up in a million years. Me, entertaining the thought of a relationship with someone who doesn’t know every sordid detail of my entire life. That’s not the way it works around here.
Britt and Malena speak quietly to avoid Whit’s accusation. “Maybe that’s what it takes,” Whit adds. That statement is why I dreaded walking into this place.
When I don’t respond, Tahoe does. “Everyone loves fresh blood, man. Lighten up. Not like I’m stealing your girl. She’s all yours. Forever,” he says, his words dripping with sarcasm.
The glowing smile Britt has worn since spotting Tahoe vanishes in an instant.
It’s probably the opposite of what you’d expect from a newly engaged woman.
Whit gets to watch as she seethes in irritation so deep it’s written all over her body.
I could kiss him for this—for exposing their false love.
Without thinking, I grab his hand and lace my fingers between his.
My hand gets lost in his sheer size, and my body shudders at the immediate warmth.
It takes several awkward seconds before she realizes Whit is watching her—judging her reaction, scorned in his masculinity in the presence of such a fine example.
Slowly, Tahoe leans over and grabs Whit by the shoulder.
Never has he looked larger than life than in this moment.
“Congrats again, man. You lucked out,” he says, voice gravelly.
Before he leans away, he flicks his gaze to a horrified Britt.
“I wish you an eternity of happiness.” The wish sounds like a threat.
My heart is racing because no one talks to them like that, no one calls them out on the lies so effectively.
Tahoe even did it the Southern, subtle way.
“Caroline May!” My name is screamed in a high-pitched shrill.
Bless that girl. Shirley. She bounds to us, breaking the circle of awkwardness.
It takes her less than two seconds to assess the atmosphere.
“Don’t tell me,” Shirley drawls, “Whitney has his panties in a bunch because this fine-ass specimen got into Caroline’s panties before he did?
” Shirley runs her hands, spirit fingers and all, up and down in front of Tahoe’s body.
I stifle a laugh. Malena, finding a comrade in her appreciation for what isn’t hers, nods in agreement.
Britt flips her hair over one shoulder while looking annoyed.
Shirley clears her throat when no one addresses her statement.
“Oh, yeah. Congrats, guys. It was a slow week at the diner.” She shoves a white envelope into Britt’s hand and then turns to me.
“You’re drinking right? Let’s go grab a drink.
Gaston will let you out of his grip, yeah?
” Tahoe squeezes my hand, and the nervous energy in my body morphs into a warmness stemming from where his skin touches mine.
Not once in my life have I been more appreciative of my best friend’s insane, straightforward personality. “Beer. I’m drinking beer. Let’s go to the bar.” She snakes an arm around my waist, and the rest of the group moves on, leaving Tahoe alone. “Thank God you showed when you did.”
She skips once, pleased with herself for her social torment. “They’re a mess. Notice neither denied it. Whit has wanted you since the moment you were born.”
“That’s disgusting, Shirley.”
Shrugging, she says, “He’s a gross dude. I don’t know what to tell you.”
I lean into her ear. “He asked me to be his girlfriend. Says he’s ready for something more.
I don’t know what to think. I told him he could rent air space and equipment, so I gave him what he wanted, and he’s still here.
” I swallow down the fear of the unknown.
Somehow, I know if I agree to take on Tyler Holiday in a relationship capacity, everything will change, and probably not for the good.
Shirley catcalls. “I fucking knew it. This is your reward for being a social recluse all of your life. You get to have that.” She eyes Tahoe over my shoulder. “He’s checking out your ass right now.”
Whit grumbles under his breath as he takes another drink off the wet bar top and retreats to his friends.
Shirley orders our drinks, flirting with the bartender because that’s her protocol, and passes me another foamy beer without turning around.
Some of the amber liquid splashes on my neck and chest before I can sip, and I wipe at it with my bare hand, managing to make more skin stink like dirty brew.
It’s crowded now that the sun has disappeared and folks are out of work for the weekend.
I tap Shirley to thank her and make my way back to Tahoe.
A few people stop me to chat, but I can’t help but seek him out in the crowd as I make small talk.
Most are curious about the airport and have heard the news I was taking it over.
He watches me, like he’s studying me. I wonder if he regrets what he said earlier, if he’s deciding I’m not worth the trouble, and whether he should stick to his status quo.
Malena would give him what he wants, and so would a number of other girls.
He knows I’m more…complicated, though. I’m giving myself a pep talk when Shirley comes up next to me and links arms. She’s not done telling me what I should think yet. I never get away that easily.
“Have you told him?” she asks. It could mean a thousand things, but without saying a word, I know which question she’s asking because of how he’s watching me—undressing me.
Tahoe drains his beer without taking his eyes off me. Bringing the glass down, he licks his lips. I shudder as heat overtakes my whole body. “I’m blushing right now, aren’t I?” I pant out. “Of course I haven’t told him. It’s not like that,” I amend. “It hasn’t been like that.”
“Don’t. I wouldn’t. You should lie,” she says, patting me on my ass as she scuttles away to tackle Caleb in a hug.
It’s probably sound advice, with the only problem being I cannot lie.
Not for all the tea in China. My poker face looks like a scared cat after being dipped in water.
Something tells me a man like Tahoe, a SEAL, will call me out on any lie I try to concoct.
One watching me as closely as this one right now?
Game over. It will only be a matter of time before he knows the truth about me.
He’ll have all of my dirty secrets in the palm of his hand, just like every other person in this bar.
The beers have mellowed my mood, but my stomach is flipping wildly with the unmade decision looming in front of me.
He’s a breathing masterpiece of masculinity and an untouchable quality that leaves me lightheaded.
When I’m close enough to touch, he runs his knuckles down the side of my face—a featherlight touch that seems impossible given the size of his hand.
“Head back to your place and hang that fixture?” Tahoe says, leaning forward so he can be heard over the new, louder music blasting around us.
“If you want.” It feels like a loaded statement.
Does agreeing to this mean I’m agreeing to everything?
I take another sip of my beer the second he brings his hand away from my face.
Breathing is hard. Focusing is hard. Everything on his body is hard.
Sure, I’ve had crushes on men before, but the crackling between my body and Tahoe’s feels like being squeezed to death without care of the outcome.
When I don’t respond, he goes on, “What are you thinking about right now?”
Shaking my head, I remember myself, and decide honesty is best. “How my friends want you. Even the ones that aren’t supposed to want you,” I say, taking another sip of beer. “How I want you and I know I’m not supposed to.”
Tahoe smirks. “Go on,” he prods. “You’re not done yet.”