Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Cam
I couldn't stop thinking about Andi Welling. Everything I did these days, she was in the back of my mind. Or the front.
Now I was starting to see her everywhere I went. I blinked and looked again.
It took a moment to realize the adorable redhead on the bench was actually her.
The breeze blew her hair back off her face. Her blue eyes faced the ocean, glazed like she saw nothing.
In the late fall sunlight, the freckles on her skin stood out more than usual. Today's sweater was forest green, worn over black trousers and black ballet flats.
All of that I noticed immediately, but what made me stop and stare was the expression on her face. I'd seen her nervous, annoyed and amused, but never apprehensive. She looked as though someone stripped off a couple of layers of her confidence and left her sitting alone on a bench by the beach.
“Hey.” I sat down beside her, giving her a few inches of space if she didn't want company. I winced, realizing I sat in seagull droppings, but didn't move to stand again.
She glanced over at me as if she wasn't surprised to see me. “Hey. Are you stalking me?”
“No. I like to come down here and clear my head. But if I was going to stalk anyone, it would be a cute redhead.”
She tilted her head at me, her expression one of cautious curiosity. “Is that your type?”
Was it? If you'd asked me a few weeks ago, I would have said I didn't have a type. I took each day and each person as they came. Since I met her, I kept picturing her hair fanned out on my pillow, blue eyes intent on me.
It might be the craziest thing in the world and it might be wrong, but Andi Welling was my type.
“It might be,” I said. “What about you? Do you have a type? Let me guess. Wears an Armani suit and holidays in Bermuda every year. ”
Her nose wrinkled adorably. “I suppose that's expected of women like me. Find a nice man who works in an office, and have babies. Spend the rest of my life organizing charity galas and having tea parties with other women like me. For added excitement, maybe the occasional fling with a hot pool boy.”
“You don't want any of that?” I asked. She seemed weary.
She sighed and looked back out at the waves. “I used to think I did. I used to think other people's expectations of me were accurate.”
“And now?” Was this the source of her sadness the other night? “You've decided you want to give it all up and go to work on a fishing boat?”
She glanced back at me and laughed. “That's strangely specific, but no. I don't think I'd make a very good deckhand. I'd want to throw all the fish back.”
“I can imagine you doing that. Scooping them all up one by one and throwing them overboard.” I mimed throwing a fish.
“Until the rest of the crew throw me overboard.” She mimed grabbing someone and tossing them sideways .
“Only to be rescued by the next passing boat,” I said. “Maybe a luxury yacht.”
Her smile faded. “Maybe I'd prefer a small rowboat with chipped paint to a luxury yacht.” Her gaze lingered on me.
“If your type isn't an executive who wears a suit every day, you might prefer a regular guy.” Was I trying to suggest I was her type? Was I a chipped paint kind of guy? I was rough around the edges at the best of times. On the outside and the inside.
“Come with me,” I said. I got to my feet and held out my hand to her.
She hesitated, but took it and let me help her stand before letting it go again. For that brief moment, her skin was warm on mine, fingers small and elegant. A contrast to my big hands and rough, calloused skin.
I wanted to lace my fingers in hers and lead her to the sidewalk that ran along the edge of the beach. Instead, I kept my hands by my sides and walked with her.
Something about this, walking side by side, felt natural. Normal. Like we'd done this a million times before. No one we passed looked twice at us. No one stopped to remind us she was my boss and we shouldn't be walking like this on a Thursday afternoon.
If they had, I wouldn't give a shit anyway.
“What are we doing?” she asked when we stopped on the edge of the Lowball Bay Pier.
“That's up to you,” I said. “We can get some cotton candy and see if I can win you a giant teddy bear. Or we could go on the Ferris wheel. Or,” I gave her a challenging look, complete with a raised eyebrow, “we could go on the rollercoaster.”
“Rollercoaster, without doubt,” she said with no hesitation.
“You like a wild ride?” I knew she wouldn't miss the innuendo.
Her face turned pink, all the way up to her ears. She was so stinking adorable I could have kissed her then and there. My gaze tracked her tongue as it slid across her lower lip.
This woman.
“I've never been on the rollercoaster before,” she said. “I've always stuck to the safe rides.” Yeah, she was definitely not just talking about amusement rides.
“Then it's time to do something different,” I said.
I led her over to the ticket booth and bought two tickets before she could insist on buying her own. She was going to, I saw it on her face, but I was doing this for her.
Okay, for myself too. I'd lived in Lowball Bay for a handful of years and I never rode the rollercoaster either. What took me so long? I didn't know. Maybe I was waiting for the right moment. The fact it was now, with her, was a coincidence. Right? Yep, definitely.
“I'll buy the cotton candy after we ride,” she said. “Unless you lose your lunch.” It was her turn to give me a challenging look.
“Me?” I poked myself in the chest with my thumb. “Not gonna happen. You might lose yours.”
“Mine is staying exactly where it is.” She patted her belly.
We stepped over to the gate and I gave our tickets to the attendant. Tall and slender, he made eyes at Andi until I glared at him. She was riding me… With me.
He opened the gate and let us through.
I looked over the empty carriages before leading her to the green one. It was several shades brighter than anything I'd seen her wear, but it seemed to suit her.
She didn't say anything as she followed me in and settled down on the seat beside me .
I reached up to pull down the safety bar before the attendant locked it in place.
“Last chance if you want to get off,” I said. Again with a deliberate choice of words.
“Scared?” she teased. Was it my imagination, or did her eyes darken at this innuendo?
“Of rollercoasters? No way.” Of having her tear my heart out of my chest and throw it into the waves? Maybe. Of an amusement ride? No.
“Then why are your knuckles white?” She nodded down at the grip of my fingers on the safety bar.
I loosened them and rolled my back against the seat. “Couldn't be more comfortable. If I had a pillow, I'd fall asleep here.”
She started to laugh, but the wind dragged it away as the carriage lurched forward and began its ascent up the first incline in the track.
Slowly, like it was dragging out the moment to increase the tension, the carriage chugged upward. The closer it got to the top, the faster my heart raced. The adrenaline rushed like before every game. The anticipation of what was to come.
“Hold on tight,” I said when we reached the top. With a surge of speed, we thundered down the other side .
She let out a squeal of laughter which continued until we reached the next incline and slowed again.
“I should have done this sooner,” she said. “I need to take more chances.”
She wasn't just referring to this. Whatever led to her sitting on that bench, staring out at the ocean was part of something much bigger. Something I wanted her to be comfortable enough to confide in me. If not today, then someday.
What was I thinking? Someday? I hardly knew her, and we got off to a rocky start, but the more I saw, the more I wanted to see. Her mind. Her body. Everything.
I wanted to know all of her, the good and bad. And I wanted to share the parts of myself with her that I didn't share with anyone else.
I wasn't scared of rollercoasters, but I was scared of letting people in. I wanted to explain all of that to her. To let her know that my initial reaction to her was a reflex I'd developed to protect myself from being hurt. A reflex I wanted to put behind me.
“Everyone needs to take more chances.” I glanced over at her.
Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, lips parted. Her hair whipped all around her face, but for once she didn't push it away. She was enjoying herself too much to care.
She was so incredibly gorgeous I forgot where I was for a few moments. Right until the carriage reached the top and plunged down another steep descent.
A shout of surprise and excitement roared out of me, chased by another laugh from her.
I could have listened to her laugh all day. I'd never heard an uninhibited sound that made my balls want to jump right out of my lap. I wanted to make her laugh, to know she was happy, and living in and loving the moment.
This was why I never rode the rollercoaster before. It wouldn't have been the same if I shared it with anyone else. Not with my friends. Not with another woman.
No, this moment was for us. For Andi and me. As long as I lived, I'd remember this. The moment we both decided to take a chance and do something daring. Something neither of us had done before. Side by side, we'd taken a leap, and we were having the time of our lives.
It might only happen once, but it might also be the beginning of many. For now, I was content to enjoy the right here, right now. With her .
The carriage reached a third incline and chugged its way up to the top. It puttered along a flat section of track that reached out over the ocean. We couldn't have been more than twenty feet up in the air, but I felt like I was in the sky. Soaring through the clouds with a stunning redhead pressed up next to me.
The carriage wound around the track, towards the deepest dip on the whole ride.
I held my breath in anticipation.
I went on holding it when the carriage stopped right on the edge of the decline. The nose couldn't have been more than an inch or two from the downward drop. The wind whipped up around us. Silence fell, broken by the sound of voices from far below, and the crash of the waves against the posts of the pier.
When I expected a sudden plunge down, nothing came.
The car stopped at the very top of the rollercoaster.