Chapter 28
Rhett
Bailey rolls off the bed with that look on her face. The one she gets when she’s up to something no good. Or in this case, something incredibly good.
She put her robe on.
“What are you doing?” I ask while she moves a chair and sets it down right outside the bathroom door, facing it toward the shower.
She coaxes me out of bed with a curved finger, letting me put my boxers on, having no idea what she’s doing. I follow her lead, leaning over to give her a kiss, but she pushes down on my shoulders until I’m firmly seated in the chair she’s just set up.
“Following the rules,” she says, her face serious.
Then she walks toward the shower, leaving me in the chair while eyeing me over her shoulder.
She pulls the shower door open, dropping her robe before stepping in.
The curve of her ass is the last thing I see before the door pulls shut, and that alone is enough to nearly make me spring right out of this chair.
“What is she doing?” I mutter to myself, forcing myself to stay right where she left me, facing the shower.
“Eyes on me!” she calls through the glass. “Can’t begin the day by breaking your rules, but I could really use a hot shower after getting absolutely ravaged last night. Or I guess, that was technically very early this morning . . .” She trails off. “Details!”
Through the glass, I can see the blurred outline of her body as she turns the water on, while I begin calling upon every ounce of SEAL training that emphasizes self-control.
I watch her long, coppery strands turn from curled and layered down her back to slick and wet against her blurry spine.
Imagining every drop of hot water rolling down the curves of her skin.
Every curve of her skin.
Fuck.
Steam pours out the top of the enclosure while the entire bathroom begins to fog, making my view of her even more fuzzy than it already was.
“Proximity matters,” she calls out, before the thud of something hitting the fiberglass floor makes me jump. “Whoops, sorry, dropped the soap!” she yells. Then she bends, pressing her cheeks to the glass. I stand immediately.
The game is over.
When I pull the shower door open, she spins around, grinning.
“Oh, you’re coming in then?” She teases, feigning innocence. “You lasted approximately fourteen seconds out there.” She laughs. “I counted.”
I growl, then step in behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. The hot slickness of her skin feels like heaven as I join her beneath the heavy flow of water.
I intend to . . . A loud knock sounds from downstairs
We freeze, both hearing it. I turn off the water.
“Someone’s here,” I tell her, stepping back out onto the mat, shutting the shower door behind me so I don’t let all the hot air out.
“Was that a knock on the door?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I call out. I’ve already wrapped a towel around my waist and am headed to the top of the stairs. “I’ll go see who it is.”
I pull up the camera view from the porch on my phone on my way down, cursing when I see that we’ve had another internet outage and there’s no visual outside.
I’ve called the internet company three times since setting these cameras up.
They’re sending someone out next week, so we’re going to have to deal with it cutting repeatedly until then.
Bailey calls something out, still standing in the shower, that I can’t quite hear over another knock on the door.
As much as I want to ignore whoever this is, I can’t.
There’s no way to look outside without whoever is out there seeing me through the curtain when I do.
It’s Savannah. She’s standing on the doorstep with a pie tin and a frosty metal cylinder in her hands. She waves happily at me through the window and holds it all up.
When I turn, Bailey’s wrapped in a robe with her hair dripping, standing halfway down the stairs. “Who is it?” she whispers, loudly.
“Savannah,” I tell her.
She throws a hand up to cover her forehead. “Oh my God, I forgot she was coming over today.”
“She’s already seen me,” I tell her, quietly, reaching for the door.
“Good morning!” Savannah trills when I swing it open.
She steps in and gives me a quick look, trying to avoid glancing at anything below my neck since I’m still dripping wet in a towel.
“I told Bailey that mom was making your favorite. Apple pie. Homemade ice cream, too. She has these chickens that lay fresh eggs every day. The guests at the lodge love them. Photo op for kids, you know? We have these little cups of chicken food that they . . .” She’s spotted Bailey on the stairs, in her robe with her hair still dripping wet from the shower.
“Hey, Savannah,” Bailey says sheepishly. Her ears are already red.
“Hey, I was just saying my mom put these eggs into the . . .” But she abandons her words to look between us. “Wait.” She looks at me, then back at Bailey. “Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Again? I’m so sorry. My timing is seriously shit, you guys.”
“No,” Bailey says, breaking the awkward silence with a laugh. “You’re fine.”
Bailey comes the rest of the way down the stairs and hugs Savannah hello, in her robe and all.
“Let me just put this down in the kitchen and then I’ll go.” Savannah holds up the pie. Her cheeks are red now, too.
“I forgot that you were coming this morning, that’s all. Got my days mixed up. Hard to keep track when every day feels like a weekend up here.”
She takes the pie tin from Savannah while guiding her toward the kitchen table. Then she eyes me over her shoulder, mouthing sorry.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come back later? I know we planned to have coffee here this morning, but we can turn that into a glass of wine later if you, um . . .” she trails off.
“Nope, I insist,” Bailey chirps, biting back a smile. When Savannah turns to set the pie down, Bailey shrugs at me.
Right. I turn to make a pot of coffee. Clearly, it’s going to be a while before we can go back to whatever that was before the knock on the door.
“God, this smells amazing,” Bailey exclaims, lifting the pie tin to her nose. “It’s still warm. And no, of course, we can still do coffee, Savannah. Really. I’m so excited to catch up.”
“I’m going to see if I can try something else to get the boat working this morning,” I tell them. With Savannah here, it’s a good time for me to take a look at it. “Looking forward to that later.” I point at the pie.
“Oh, I forgot!” Savannah exclaims, pointing a finger back at him. “My brother had me bring those tools over for you. They’re in my trunk. Car’s unlocked. Bailey said a few of yours were rusted over and the store was out of the part you needed for whatever is going on with the boat?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks. And be sure to tell him thanks from me, too.”
From what I remember, Savannah’s family is huge, but her brother is a few years older than us.
Savannah’s gaze shifts to the boat anchored just off the shore through the window, then back and forth between us as Bailey tightens the cord around her waist. I scoop the last bit of coffee grounds into the machine and press the Brew button above the pot.
An awkward blanket of silence fills the kitchen.
“Right,” I turn. “I’m going to go grab clothes, and then those tools out of your trunk and then go around out back,” I say, before throwing Bailey a look that says, we’ll finish all that later. “Save me a slice?”
“Oh, the biggest,” Bailey mumbles back, adding to the awkwardness. Then she turns to Savannah and bites her lip, grinning like they already have a few secrets to discuss, before asking, “So, Savi, what’s new with you?”