Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Is there anything more annoying than how quickly a guy gets ready? I clocked Tyler because I didn’t believe he could do it in five minutes. He showered and dressed in four minutes, thirty-seven seconds. Men suck.
Tyler scrounged up a pair of dark chinos and a blue dress shirt that makes his pale blue eyes stand out like glass. His dark brownish-red hair appears black from his shower and mussed like he ran his fingers through it instead of a comb. I gotta admit, he’s rather pretty polished up.
“Tyler, you’re going to make the ladies very happy tonight.” He glances from behind the wheel of his clunky Land Cruiser and rolls his eyes. “What? I’m being serious.”
It’s a good thing Tyler came with me. He knows the location of the Timber Boathouse, and once we arrive, I realize I would never have found it.
During the daylight, directions like “make a left at the burnt tree stump” or “walk down the stone-lined path” might make sense.
In the dark, it’s all shadows and pitch.
The sound of the music would have been a clue, but I’d have stumbled around for thirty minutes beforehand.
The path to the boathouse is gravel, causing my ankles to wobble. Tyler steadies me with his arm. “Easy there. No acting like a drunk before you’re actually drunk. You’ll signal the perverts from the start.”
I stop in my tracks. “Are you serious?”
His smile fades. “What?” He raises a hand to my shoulder and squeezes. “Gen, it’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
So this is what it feels like to have a trusted guy around. Big brothers kind of rock.
Cool air rushes into my lungs and I move again. The incident with Drake earlier has me jumpy.
Christmas lights stream through rafters, illuminating the inside of the boathouse.
Bar-height tables balance empty plastic cups and half-eaten cake.
Confetti and balloons litter the ground.
We missed a few key ceremonies, like blowing out the candles, but the party is in full swing.
Guests dance near the DJ, others mingle in loud, animated clusters, their chatter mixing with the music.
Tyler points to a far corner. “There’s Nessa.”
It’s a drunken mass, but of course Tyler sniffs out the beautiful girls. Sure enough, Nessa is in the corner in a strapless flare dress and five-inch heels. She looks gorgeous—and she’s standing in front of Lewis.
My heart races at a screaming pace. Lewis in a midnight suit with no tie, the jacket fitted to his lean, muscular frame is a vision to behold. Images of kissing him at the cascades crash into the forefront of my mind. I grab Tyler’s arm to help me stand, to help me think.
Lewis glances over, his gaze landing on me, a light filling his eyes—until his focus drops to my arm looped through Tyler’s. His jaw tightens.
Does he think I’m with Tyler? We walked in together, and Lewis doesn’t know Tyler is Cali’s brother.
Lewis was all business this afternoon. I’m not sure what the kiss meant to him, but the way he’s looking at me now…
I drop my hand and step to the side. “We should go over,” I say.
“Oh my God,” Nessa shouts as we near, her drink sloshing in her glass. Definitely drunk. Worse than the night at the club, but then, my perspective was off from my own beer goggles that night.
“I’m so glad you made it.” She hugs me with one arm and her beverage spills out the side. She steps back. “I would have mentioned the party this afternoon, but you said you had to work. How did you get out so early?” She gives me the once-over. “You look awesome, by the way.”
My face heats, gaze flickering to Lewis. “Thanks. I—um… I filed a complaint about one of the employees. They sent me home for the day.”
“Seriously? What happened?”
Tyler shakes hands with Zach and they chat off to the side.
I fill Nessa in on Drake. Lewis hovers between our two groups, his attention on my and Nessa’s conversation.
I know this, because his chest rises, jaw clenching, when I get to the part about Drake threatening me near the elevators this evening.
Nessa’s mouth drops open. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” She reaches over and squeezes my arm. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“The casino will do something,” she says.
I don’t mention my reservations on that front.
Tyler hands Nessa a fresh drink and slides his arm around her waist, speaking low in her ear. She giggles and he drags her a step away.
It’s totally weird to see Tyler flirt. This must be what it’s like to catch a sibling flirting with someone of the opposite sex. No wonder Tyler wanted out of the house with Cali and Jaeger building their love nest.
Lewis saunters closer, his jacket pushed to the side, one hand in his pants pocket, the other holding a drink. I don’t know how he goes from mountain god to city sleek with a change of clothes, but that’s Lewis. “Does that bother you?” he says.
“What? Tyler talking to Nessa? Why would it?”
He shrugs lightly. “You’re here with him…”
“Tyler is Cali’s brother. He’s my friend.”
Lewis’s inscrutable expression doesn’t change.
Does he seriously think there’s something going on between us? Tyler is all but nibbling Nessa’s earlobe. “He lives with me and Cali.” Wait—that doesn’t help. “He steals the remote control and picks on me.” And that sounds like foreplay. Crap.
Tyler is handsome—really handsome. If he didn’t treat me like a sister, and if I had any spark with him whatsoever, I might be interested. “He doesn’t like me like that,” I finally say.
A knowing smile curls Lewis’s lips. “Any guy would like you like that.”
I stare, transfixed by his grin, until what he says registers. “I don’t feel that way about Tyler. And he’s not interested, he’s protective.” Which could be construed as a sign of attraction… I’m not helping to prove my point.
The truth is, there’s only one guy I’m interested in. Everyone else fades into the background, so even if someone were attracted to me, I wouldn’t know it.
Lewis studies my face. He sets the clear plastic cup he’s holding on the table behind us and reaches for my hand. “Dance?”
The look in his eye is dark, intent, and it sends a flurry of sparks through my center. Lewis is difficult to read, except when he isn’t, which sounds confusing, but there it is. His actions say more than his words, and sometimes even those conflict.
I slip my wrap off my shoulders and place it beside my purse on the table our friends commandeered.
My black dress is simple, but fitted and short.
Over six feet in four-inch heels is a lot of girl, and I didn’t hold back tonight.
I’m wearing the ruby chandelier earrings my mom bought me for Christmas and black strappy heels trimmed in gold metal to match the thick bangle on my arm.
Lewis’s gaze drinks me in. After an unnatural pause, he reaches around the small of my back without saying a word and leads me to the dance floor.
He guides me to the side, where fewer couples gather, and pulls me close.
A woman croons in an eerie minor register about summer and saying goodbye to her love, and couples sway to the slow song.
Despite my height in heels, Lewis has a few inches on me. Clean linen, sweet pine, and his amazing scent fill my senses. His jaw grazes my forehead, sending goose bumps over my arms. He tucks me in closer, his large, warm body moving in a slow, sensual rhythm.
My breathing is too fast, but it’s really not something I can control with the object of my desire wrapped around me. I’m in stimulation overload. And because I can’t control myself, I shift until my cheek and the side of my mouth press against his jaw. It seems the logical thing to do.
His breath catches.
He started this close-dancing business. I can’t help it if my overactive hormones want more.
Lewis glides his chin along my skin—a slightly stubbled chin that looked smooth from a distance. If I turn a fraction more, my lips would touch the edge of his mouth.
A strong temptation.
We stay like this, swaying to the music, holding each other, my mouth close, but not close enough, until I can’t take it anymore. I have to know what he’s thinking, and since his gaze has always told me more than his words, I dip my head back to look in his eyes.
They’re dark and focused on my mouth.
His fingers run down my back, grazing my ass as he reaches around for my hand. I feel that unintentional ass caress in the pit of my belly. His hand tangles with mine, which I realize dropped at some point to palm the side of his thigh.
Without a word, he walks me to the rear of the room and out two giant doors that open onto the beach. A small group of people gather around a keg, making the atmosphere out here less formal. The rest of the beach is deserted in both directions.
Lewis begins a determined pace south, our hands linked. I gently draw back. “My shoes,” I say, and glance down.
He kneels at my feet, head bent, and deftly unclasps the delicate buckle at each ankle as I balance with the help of his shoulders. He slides my heels off and stuffs them in his coat pockets. “Better?”
No. That was incredibly sexy. Is he trying to kill me? “Where are we going?”
He takes my hand again. “Walking.”
“Just walking?” Where did that come from? Why is my head constantly in the gutter around him?
He grins, sliding his free hand to my lower back until he’s guiding me. “Zach mentioned he told you we’re part Washoe. How much do you know about our tribe?”
They talked about me when I wasn’t around? “Nothing.”
He nods, the noise from the party subsiding to a low murmur as we move farther down the beach. “Up until a couple hundred years ago, the Washoe migrated during the summer to Lake Tahoe. They came here.”
I point to the sand. “Here?”
He smiles. “Maybe. Camp Richardson is in an area where they used to gather. They collected winter reserves from the lake and plants, and mingled.” Emphasis on mingled.
“What kind of mingling?”
“Visiting old friends, games, races… canoodling.”