Chapter 11
Cana person be considered a sex fiend for just thinking about sex twenty-four seven?
Or do you have to actually do the deed more than once to qualify?
This is the question front of mind from the moment my alarm blares at three-thirty Monday morning—interrupting a dream in which Weaver was feeding me exotic foods while slipping his hand between my legs beneath the table—until late Monday afternoon, as I’m zoning out on my favorite couch in the café with a chubby gray cat in my lap, pondering where I might be able to acquire “nice panties” in our one lobster town.
I don’t want to change myself for a man in any way, even a small way.
But I do want Weaver to look at me the way he did after our kiss on the boardwalk yesterday, like I’m the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Like he can barely control the urge to rip my clothes off and?—
“Earth to Gertie.” Elaina’s sharp words are followed by a snap of her fingers, inches from my face.
I do a full-body flinch, sending Maybe bolting for the cat climbing structure, where he was hiding in one of the bottom tubes when I arrived. “What, I’m awake, I’m awake. What?”
“I’ve been asking if you wanted a truffle with your espresso shot for at least two minutes.” Elaina props her hands on her hips, making her orange velvet circle skirt poke out even more than it did before. For someone who professes to hate Halloween, she spends a large chunk of October dressed in orange and black. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” I say, feeling bad about withholding information from my best friend, but the fewer people who know I’m seeing Weaver Tripp in a romantic capacity, the better. “I’m fine. Just tired from being out on the boat in the cold all day.”
“You were humming to yourself,” she accuses, her eyes narrowing on my face.
I plaster on what I hope is an innocent expression. “So?”
“And smiling.”
I arch a brow. “I’m not allowed to smile?”
“Of course, you’re allowed to smile. You’re allowed to smile and hum and stare at the wall like you’re watching a dreamy movie only you can see,” she says, settling onto the cushion beside me. “But not when you refuse to share what has you on cloud nine.” She points a finger at my chest, “Or who… It’s a who, isn’t it? And I’d bet a year’s supply of fancy Himalayan salt that his name starts with a W.”
“Hush!” My eyes fly wide as my gaze flits about what I can see of the café behind her, but thankfully, we appear to be alone.
“Relax, Monday afternoons are always dead,” she says. “There’s no one here but us. Well, us and the cats, but they know how to keep a secret.” Her bottom lip pushes out in an exaggerated pout. “And I do, too. I promise. Please tell me what’s going on. Maya’s been busy shopping with her mom and Sydney’s up to her armpits in moving boxes and no one has time for me. I’m lonely and need gossip.”
“You should consider talking to someone about that,” I say, only half kidding. “Being able to be alone for a day or two is an important skill.”
Elaina kicks off her ballet flats, settling more fully onto the couch. “Yeah, yeah, or I can just keep being a chatty extrovert and living my one wild life the way I want to live it.”
“Co-dependent and up in everyone’s business?”
“Yes,” she says seriously. “Now spill it. You talked to Weaver yesterday, right? What did he say? About your mom and dad and all the drama?”
“Not much,” I say, briefly filling her in on what I learned on our trip up the coast.
She exhales a relieved sigh when I’m done. “Well, that’s good news, right? I mean, the best news possible, in any event. He didn’t bang your mom and he’s willing to apologize to your dad. Not that it matters.” She wiggles her perfectly shaped brows. “When he asks permission to marry you, he’ll have to ask Gramps. That’s only right. Gramps is the one who put in the hard work raising you to be the magnificent woman you are today.”
I burst out laughing, then laugh harder at the annoyed expression on her face.
“What?” she asks. “What’s so funny? Don’t you want your forever guy to ask permission from your family?”
“No, and I wouldn’t have thought you would, either. You’re the most independent woman I know.”
She tucks her legs beneath her. “Well, yes, but I’m also a romantic. I think asking permission is romantic. And practical. I mean, better to know up-front if your lady’s family hates your guts, right?”
Her words send a pall over my dreamy, sex-obsessed thoughts. I already know Weaver’s family hates my family and vice versa. Even if I wanted happily ever after with a guy who makes me as nervous as he does turned-on, there’s no path forward for us.
This is a temporary thing. We have a month at most, maybe, and then he’ll go back to his life and I’ll go back to mine.
And that’s fine. Better than fine. I don’t want a long-term relationship right now, anyway. I just want to make the most of the time I have with this irresistible man.
Which is something Elaina might be able to help me out with…
“Do you have an idea where I might be able to get some sexy panties around here on short notice?” I ask.
She squeals, clapping her hands. “I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist banging him again. I have a feeling about you two, I swear.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve never even seen us together.”
“But I’ve seen you separately, and you vibrate at the same frequency. And you’re both fucking gorgeous and will make seriously beautiful babies that I can babysit every Friday so you can have a date night.”
“The baby fever still making you insane? Or more insane than usual?”
Her lips turn down. “Yes. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not in any position to have a kid. I work all the time, and I don’t have a fuck buddy, let alone a life partner. It’s just stupid hormones, I guess.” Her expression sobers. “Speaking of, you’re using protection with Tall, Sexy, and Frosty, right?”
I nod. “Yeah. And I’m on the pill.”
“Good.” She nods. “Then you don’t have to worry about anything except having fun and showing off your new panties. I have an adorable bra and panty set I bought in August and haven’t had a chance to wear yet. If you’ll watch the cash register, I can run up and grab them.”
“I’m never going to fit into something in your size,” I say, eyeing my tiny friend as she bounces to her feet.
“Of course, you will.” She turns, slapping the back of her fluffy skirt. “I have a big butt for my height. And you’re a C cup, right?”
I nod. “Yes, but?—”
“Then you’ll be fine. You’ll probably have to put the strap on the widest clasps, because I’m a little smaller around the ribs, but it’ll be fine.” She winks as she sashays toward the staircase at the back of the café, leading to her apartment on the second floor. “It’s not like you’ll be wearing them that long anyway.”
I try, but I can’t fight the grin pulling at my cheeks. “You make a solid point.”
She squeals again, calling out, “I’m so happy for you,” as she dashes up the stairs.
It’s nice. Supportive. And I know Elaina’s mostly kidding about the marriage and baby stuff.
I don’t even know if I want marriage or babies, especially babies. I love kids, but I don’t think I want to raise one. Either way, it’s never been something I’ve thought about too much. I’ve been so busy keeping our family business alive that the years have slipped away faster than I realized. But as a teenager fresh out of high school, determined to stay in my hometown and help Gramps the way he’d always helped me, I never would have imagined that one day I’d be almost twenty-five, still single, and living above my grandfather’s garage.
Well, the garage part, maybe. Rent prices are insane in Sea Breeze. There just isn’t enough housing to go around. There’s no shame in living in an apartment on a relative’s property, but I would have assumed I would have had someone sharing it with me by now. And I was positive I’d have my associate’s degree in photography from the community college. I started online classes the spring after graduation, as soon as the most active part of lobstering season was over.
But sometime in my first two years of working full time on the boat, I started resenting the fact that I had to spend two evenings a week and a good chunk of my weekends on schoolwork. I busted my ass five to six days a week doing intense, physical labor. On my time off, I wanted to read for fun, go on a hike through the marsh or dancing at the Moose Club, and spend book club nights giggling with my girls.
I gave up on my degree with twelve credits left to graduate. It wasn’t a conscious decision, time just…slipped away from me, and suddenly it had been two years since I’d signed up for classes.
Same thing with dating.
If Weaver hadn’t shown up and shocked me out of my routine, who knows how much longer things would have clicked along the way they’ve been the past six years? Would I have been thirty by the time I finally realized I’d slipped into autopilot and was no longer actively guiding the course of my life?
I don’t know, but the thought scares me a little. It reminds me too much of Dad, lost in the booze haze and only surfacing to take a hard look at his life every few years or so. During those brief episodes of clarity, he’ll come around the house more, his eyes teary and his hands trembling from alcohol withdrawal, promising that he’s going to get a job and help out around the house more.
He never does, though, and the thought of ending up anything like him scares the shit out of me. Even if Weaver weren’t proving to be a fun distraction from the status quo, I would be grateful to him. He’s forced me to examine my life and realize it’s time to make some changes.
I want to travel more, the way he has. I want to learn about other places, meet people outside my tiny hometown, and take pictures of things other than the ocean, lobsters, and sea birds stealing French fries from tourists on the pier.
Though the tourist pics are pretty funny…
“Here we go,” Elaina says, stepping over the rope bearing a “Do Not Enter” sign that’s draped across the stairwell leading up to her place. She holds up a scrap of blue satin and white lace in each hand. I glance over my shoulder again, and she laughs. “Relax, I told you, Mondays are dead.” She stops in front of me with a grin. “What do you think?”
I reach out, touching the fabric. “Wow. It’s softer than I thought.”
“It’s silk. The good shit,” she says, but when I reach for the bra, she pulls it out of reach. “You’re going to have to hand wash these in the sink. No throwing them in with the rest of your laundry. Can you do that?”
“Sure,” I say, reaching for the lingerie again, only for Elaina to draw it away a second time.
“I’m serious. It hurts me to see beautiful things ruined. We must respect the beautiful things.”
I fight an eye roll. “Yes, ma’am, I will respect the beautiful things. I pinky swear.”
Her smile widens as she finally puddles the bra and panties into my outstretched hands. “Good. I assume that means you’ll have no problem with me closing early and doing your hair and makeup for you before you head over to meet your man? In the name of making beautiful things even more beautiful?”
“He’s not my man,” I say. “And I’m not meeting him until later, after it gets dark. I have to cook dinner with Gramps first and then pretend to head over to my place for the night. If he sees me all girlie, he’ll know something is up.”
Elaina gives a patronizing shake of her head. “Oh, Gert Gert, how can you be so smart and so clueless at the same time? Just tell Gramps you’re having dinner with me tonight and then go straight to the yacht when it’s dark. Easy peasy.”
I bristle a little. “I can’t.”
“Why not? You’ve obviously already showered since you don’t smell like bait.” She wrinkles her nose. “Much, anyway. The smell never really leaves you completely, does it?”
I bristle more as I surge to my feet. “Thanks. Way to make a girl feel confident about heading over to see a guy who smells like the lobby of a fancy hotel and money.” I start to move past her, muttering, “I should go take another shower, I guess.”
“Oh, stop.” She catches my elbow as I start toward the door, and I let her spin me back to face her. Her dark eyes stare imploringly into mine. “Please. Stay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel self-conscious. The total opposite. I want you to feel confident and beautiful.” She releases my arm and reaches up, guiding my wild hair over my shoulder. “Because you are beautiful. You’re like a supermodel, Gertie, without even trying. I can’t believe it took a man this long to notice how special you are and want to treat you like a queen.”
I bite my lip before I say softly, “I’m not a supermodel. And Weaver doesn’t want to treat me like a queen. He just wants a discreet booty call and maybe a few laughs. We had fun together yesterday. He took me to this amazing French restaurant in Saint Mary. And he’s actually nice…and funny. When he wants to be.”
Elaina’s lips curve in a knowing smile. “Yeah, guys are like that when they have a crush.”
I snort-laugh, shaking my head. “Oh my God, stop. You’re making this out to be so much more than it is. He doesn’t have a crush.”
“Right, he just likes you enough to take you out to a swanky restaurant and want to see you two days in a row.”
I huff again, but there’s hope in my voice when I ask, “Really? Two days in a row is a big thing?”
“It is. I can’t remember the last time I liked someone enough to want to see them two days in a row.” Her lips scrunch to one side. “I can’t remember when someone liked me enough to do that, either. I really need to expand my fishing zone. Continuing to cast my net around here is clearly a fruitless endeavor.”
I arch a brow. “Well, if you hadn’t overfished in the first place…”
“You’re right. I hate you, but you are.” Her nose joins the scrunch until her prune face makes us both laugh. When we’ve pulled ourselves together, she squeezes my arm, “Come on. Let me close up and pamper you a little. You deserve it. We can paint our nails, too. I have a home gel kit that keeps the paint from chipping for at least a week.”
I tip my head to the side. “Okay.” Before she can celebrate, I warn, “But not too much makeup. And you have to teach me how to do it. Just in case I want to put it on myself sometime.”
She beams. “Yes. That will be perfect. You will be perfect. You don’t need much. Just a little something to bring out the color in your cheeks and those gorgeous eyes.”
While she closes up, I text Gramps—Hey, gonna grab dinner with Elaina then head back to my place for an early bedtime. You need anything from town? I can grab you a plate from The Seafood Hut on my way back if you want.
After a few moments, he texts back—Nah. I’m good. I’ll just have chili leftovers. Good for a fall night. The temperature’s going to nosedive, so put out your warm socks for tomorrow and wear a base layer. See you in the morning.
Okay, will do. See you then—I say, feeling guilty for lying to Gramps.
But lying is for the best and it’s not like he hasn’t had company today. We were out on the boat together until one-thirty and he hit the pub for a drink with some friends while I headed home to shower.
Still, I never lie to Gramps.
Well, almost never…
I might have lied a teeny tiny bit when I said I wasn’t sad about giving up that scholarship to study photography at the college of Art and Design in Portland. I wanted to stay and help out on the boat…but I also wanted to spread my wings and fly. I wanted to be one of the first people in my family to go to college and work a job that didn’t involve hauling traps into a boat or frying up food at the restaurant my grandmother owned before she died.
“Ready?” Elaina asks once she’s drawn the curtains over the front windows, giving the cats privacy for the rest of the day.
I nod. “Yeah.”
I am ready. Ready to make a change and maybe drag out some of those old dreams I’ve put on the shelf.
But first, I’m ready to spend the night with a man who makes me feel more alive than I have in a very long time.