Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
TESSA
“You slept with him?” Angela’s voice rises an octave. “Oh my God, girl, I’m so proud of you.”
“Not like that,” I point out, trying not to laugh at her over-the-top reaction. “We didn’t do anything that wasn’t PG.”
“You spooned.”
Okay, so there was a little spooning. And yeah, I’m almost certain that I felt some… enthusiasm… poking into my ass this morning. But I’m almost certain it was a physiological reaction and nothing to do with me.
“It was just a friendly thing,” I tell her. “He keeps waking up all twisted and achy. The bed is huge. Like double the size of my one at home. It felt wrong not to offer to share.”
“Sure it did.” Amusement still tinges her voice. “So are you going to do it again tonight?”
I let out a long breath. We have two days until the presentation and then we fly home. I’m almost certain that this… detente, or whatever you want to call it between me and Linc, will be long forgotten by the time we touch down on the ta rmac at JFK. Yes, we get along well here, but our lives are so different.
And now I’m starting to get homesick for Zoe. I let out a long breath. “Probably,” I say. “But not the way you’re thinking.”
“Why not?”
Her question is simple yet so complicated I don’t know where to start.
“Because I’m older. A mom. I should know better.”
“You’re a woman, Tessa. A beautiful woman. And you’ve had a shit couple of years. And from what I’ve seen this guy Linc is pretty hot. Has he made it clear he’s not interested?”
I think of last night. The way he hugged me. The gentle touch of his hands as he stroked my hair.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I think he might be.”
“Of course he is.” Angela says. I can picture her rolling her eyes at me. “What guy wouldn’t be?” Then she lets out a cough. “Ignore that. What guy other than a dick with no sense wouldn’t be?”
I start to laugh. “When you put it like that…”
“Seriously, honey. You only have two nights left to have fun. What happens in Exuma stays in Exuma. Enjoy yourself. Let your hair down. Stop worrying about the future so much and enjoy things as they are.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“That’s because it is. You overthink things. And I know you’ve had to for the last few years. But that’s history. This is your new start. Just be open to things, that’s all I ask.”
The cottage door opens and Linc walks in, his face lighting up into a slow smile when he sees me.
He’s been in a meeting in the business suite. A zoom call with Europe, I think. We’ve spent most of today working. The pitch is almost ready. He made me promise that tomorrow afternoon we will go to the beach to relax for the last time before we give our presentation the following day .
“I gotta go,” I say to Angela. His eyes are still on me. I feel myself start to blush.
“Is he there?”
“Yes. And you’re on speaker.”
Linc’s smile turns into a smirk, because now he knows we were talking about him.
“Goodbye, Ange,” I say, hanging up before she can reply because I have no idea what she’ll say next. All I know is that it’ll almost certainly be embarrassing.
A moment later a message flashes up.
Spoilsport. – Angela
“How was your meeting?” I ask Linc, trying to ride out the embarrassment.
“Not as interesting as your conversation, obviously.”
I shake my head, but I can’t stop the smile from pulling at my lips. “We have two hours before dinner and then the dance party.” Which I still don’t want to go to, by the way. “Do you want to shower first or shall I?”
We arrive at the party just after nine. The Shack is a small wooden bar on the beach, and there are people everywhere, standing at the counter, drinking on the sand, hanging around the DJ who’s set up his decks on a wooden stage to the left of the bar.
We talked nonstop over dinner. He told me stories about growing up with his brothers and then asked me a hundred questions about Zoe. He knew a lot more about Manga than I thought he would. And of course he’s an encyclopedia about the Linebackers, her favorite band .
And then he held my hand as we made our way to the party.
It’s weird, but it feels like we’ve really become friends, and I like it. That’s why I’ve pushed Angela’s words to the back of my mind, never to be thought of again.
I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend like Linc before. But it has its advantages because he manages to sweet talk his way to the front of the bar within half a minute, and within three he’s carrying two glasses back to the two sun loungers I managed to snag us on the beach.
“There you go,” he passes me a glass, sitting down on the bed beside me, but twisting his body so his feet are on the sand in between the two of them. He clinks his plastic glass against mine. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” I say, taking a sip.
“Ouch. This tastes like a hangover waiting to happen.”
“We still have some last minute work to do tomorrow,” I remind him. “We can’t drink too much.”
He winks at me. “It’s a proven fact that dancing prevents hangovers.”
“Not if you have to drink a bucket of punch to get the courage to do it,” I mutter.
“Why would you need liquid courage to dance?” he asks me, looking genuinely curious.
“Because some of us have two left feet.”
He looks down my legs, as though he half believes me. And I’m so glad I decided to touch up my pedicure today. No chips, no hard skin, just pretty feet.
A half smile pulls at his lips. “I’ll take it easy on you,” he promises me. “At first.”
His eyes catch mine and it doesn’t feel like we’re talking about dancing anymore. “It’s not my first time,” I say.
“I know. But it’s your first time with me. That’s different.”
Okay, we’re definitely not talking about dancing. Or are we? It’s hard to tell with Linc. “Don’t take it easy on me just because I’m an amateur compared to you.”
His smile gets wider. This damn punch has a lot to answer for. “You have to learn to walk before you can run, Carmichael. We’ll start with something easy. Slow. Then we’ll work up to the crescendo.”
“You’re calling me Carmichael again,” I say.
“I always call you Carmichael.”
“Last night you also called me Tessa.”
His gaze softens. That smile is still there but it feels less of a challenge, more of a prize. “Did I?”
“Yep.”
“It didn’t feel like a Carmichael moment, I guess.”
“What’s a Carmichael moment?” I ask him, because I can’t even imagine what he means by this.
“A Carmichael moment is when you’re being you. Challenging. Fighting me.” He tips his head to the side, his eyes scanning my face.
“And a Tessa moment?”
He presses his lips together, as though he’s assessing his answer before he responds. “A Tessa moment,” he says, “is when you need kindness.”
“Maybe I need kindness more than you think.”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “I think you do. So are you gonna come and dance with me or what?”
“Just one,” I tell him. “And you have to be gentle with me.”
He shouts out a laugh and pulls me up, taking me to join the others dancing in the sand.
LIN C
She feels different tonight. And yet weirdly the same, too, in the best kind of way. It reminds me of that time I had a full body scrub in a Turkish bath. Having your top layer of skin scraped off by an angry looking man with a hand full of what felt like glass shards wasn’t exactly my favorite experience of all time.
But the result was amazing. For a few days, my skin was as soft as a baby’s. It also gave me a little insight into the ‘beauty is pain’ mantra my mom always uses.
Fuck that. I like pleasure. Especially the pleasure of dancing with this woman.
She was right, though. She isn’t exactly the best dancer. I’d go as far as to say she’s one of the worst I’ve seen. She has absolutely no rhythm. It’s like her ears and her body are completely disconnected. She misses the beat every time.
“Can I sit down yet?” she asks, as the DJ spins another disc. This one has a slower beat than the last. Smooth, sensual.
Her body does not respond to the change in rhythm. Not at all. I bite down a smile as she dances way too fast for the new song. And I realize something. I like her more when she’s not perfect at everything.
Because nobody is perfect at everything.
A beautiful woman in a short, white dress with dark flowing hair walks behind Carmichael. Her eyes catch mine, before she looks at Tessa and rolls her eyes.
It pisses me off.
It pisses me off even more when Tessa steps back, not knowing she’s there, and steps on the woman’s bare toes.
“Watch where you’re going, bitch,” the woman growls.
Tessa blinks, stunned.
“Don’t stand so close then,” I say, taking Tessa’s hand and pulling her into me.
“Your girlfriend sucks at dancing. If you want to find somebody who knows how to use her body, I’ll be over there,” tall, dark, and mean says, nodding over at the bar.
I put my arms around Tessa and I can feel how stiff she is. And I’m even more pissed than ever. We were having fun. Nobody needed to say anything.
“Just fuck off,” Tessa says, turning around to look at the woman behind her. “This one’s mine.”
I don’t know how I hide my laugh, but somehow I manage with a cough and a quick cover of my palm across my mouth.
Okay, so Tessa isn’t a shrinking violet. She’s pissed.
I’m not sure I could like her any more than I do right now.
As soon as the woman disappears and we’re alone again, Tessa rolls onto her tiptoes to whisper in my ear.
“I’m going to need some more of that punch.”
“One more dance,” I urge her. “And then we’ll take a break.”
The song is slow and sensual. I squeeze her hand that’s in mine and she takes the hint, stepping into me until our bodies are pressing against each other.
I dip my head to smell the sweet floral notes of her shampoo as she rests her face against my chest. Then I slide my free hand down to the dip of her spine, moving us together, this time to the rhythm of the song.
Last night, we slept together. In the literal sense of the word. But this feels even more personal. Like another layer of skin has been removed from us both.
“Salinger,” she murmurs. I hardly hear her voice over the music.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have a hard on?”
“Not yet.”
“I think I do.”
Jesus, what did they put in that punch? I’m starting to think I should have asked them .
“Women don’t get hard ons,” I say, trying not to smile.
“What do they get then?” She looks up at me. There’s a dazed look on her face.
“Wet.”
As soon as I say it I’m wondering if she is. Fuck, I want to touch her. She’s still looking up at me goofily.
“Tessa,” I say.
“Carmichael,” she corrects me.
“Whatever. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Do you feel sick? Dizzy?”
“Because I’m talking to you about sex?” she asks.
I mean, yeah. “I’m just worried that somebody might have spiked your drink.”
“You got me the drink. You’re the only one who could have spiked it.” She looks up at me. “Did you spike it?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’d never spike your drink.”
“I know you wouldn’t.” She rests her head against my chest. “I’m not drunk, I’m just…”
I hold my breath as I wait for her to tell me what she is. But then there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn my head and Tessa looks up.
Fucking Maya.
I almost groan, because I’m desperate to hear what Tessa thinks.
“Can I steal him off you?” Maya asks. “For one dance.”
Tessa steps back, and I immediately miss the feel of her body against mine.
“Have at him,” she mutters.
“Actually,” I say to Maya, “we were busy.”
“No, honestly.” Tessa smiles at Maya, though I notice it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Go ahead. I’m going to grab some water.”
Before I can say anything else, she’s weaving through all the bodies undulating on the sand.
“I love this song,” Maya says, grabbing my now free hand .
But I shake it off. Because no, Tessa’s not getting away from me just when we were finally getting real.
I want to know how she feels. I want to fucking kiss her.
I want to find out if she’s as turned on as I am from dancing together.
“Sorry,” I say to Maya. “Got things to do. Have a good evening.”
And then I’m pushing my way through the crowds.
TESSA
I hear him calling my name as I stride along the beach, but I don’t slow my pace. He catches up to me within thirty seconds though, reaching for my hand.
I let him take it.
“Where are you going?” he asks, sounding confused. He’s matching my pace easily, the sound of the music and the people becoming more distant with every step.
“Back to the cottage,” I say. “I’m tired.”
“You were going to leave without saying goodbye?” He sounds annoyed.
“I was going to text you.”
“You were supposed to stay with me. You promised,” he reminds me. “You said you’d protect me from Maya.”
I finally stop walking and look up at him. The moon is almost at full splendor, and the light reflects against his face.
He looks angry at me. Good. I prefer that I think.
I know angry. I know how to deal with him when he’s pissed with me.
The problem is, I don’t know how to deal with my feelings for him.
And yes, I have feelings. Way too many of them. And every single one is confusing. I like him. He makes me laugh. And of course he’s stupidly attractive. But I also know that he’s way above my league. Younger, richer, and definitely not long-term material.
But he makes me feel like a woman again. Something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Ange’s words echo in my head. And I realize that I’m not scared of being with Linc. I’m scared of what happens after.
“You don’t need me to protect you from anyone,” I say softly, the thoughts still rushing around my mind.
His eyes narrow. “Are you annoyed with me?” he asks, looking confused.
“No, not at you. At me,” I say honestly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Said what?” he asks. We slow our walking to a normal pace. There’s a breeze wafting in from the ocean. It rustles against the trees.
“Asked you if you were…” I trail off. “You know.”
“If I was hard.”
“Yeah.”
“You were having fun, Carmichael. So was I. We’re allowed to have fun. We’re allowed to dirty talk if we want. We’re grown adults.”
“We work together,” I remind him.
“And?”
“And it’s not a good idea.”
He stops walking. And I stop too. He reaches for my shoulders and turns me so we’re looking at each other.
“What are you afraid of?” he asks.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” I lie.
“You’re scared of me.”
Oh, he knows. And it makes me feel more vulnerable than ever. I’m supposed to be a grown up. In charge of my emotions. But right now I feel like I’m lost at sea .
I let out a long breath. “I just know this isn’t a good idea.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to persuade him or me.
“What isn’t? Tell me.” He leans in closer. I can feel the warmth of his hands against my shoulders. “Are you wet right now, Carmichael?”
My heart rate speeds up. “Yes.”
“Good.”
“Why’s that good?” I ask him, because it doesn’t feel good to me. Okay, yes, it does feel good but…
“Because I’m hard. Have been for days. For you.”
Oh .
I look up at him. He has a dark expression on his face. It makes my heart pound against my ribcage. It dances faster than I ever could. Has more rhythm, too, thank goodness.
“I’ve wanted you since I met you,” he continues. And damn, he’s such a sweet talker. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. I want it to be real.
Maybe I need it to be.
“No you haven’t. You thought I was stuck up.”
“I like a challenge,” he tells me. “And anyway, now I know why you were like that. You were in the middle of a divorce. That messes with people.”
My chest tightens. Those early days of the divorce were the worst. The fear of the future. The knowledge I needed to take care of Zoe, but not knowing how to.
The realization that I wasn’t good enough for the man I loved.
Linc cups my face as he smiles at me. “Why do you keep fighting this?”
“Because I don’t want to get hurt again,” I finally admit. “And we’re not... compatible.”
He blinks. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re you, and I’m me.”
Linc shakes his head. “You’re gonna have to spell it out for me. ”
“You’re a man that every woman wants. You’re sexy and gorgeous and you can sweet talk everybody you meet. I’m…” I take a breath. “A single mom. I work all the hours god sends. And I haven’t had sex in two years. I really don’t think I’m the kind of woman you’re looking for.”
“Two years?” His eyes widen. “Jesus.”
“See? We’re like oil and water.”
“I love oil and water.”
I start to laugh, because this man has that effect on me. “Shut up and let’s go home.”