Chapter 15
SUMMER
All was not lost even though we missed the sunset. “There will be more sunsets,” I say, sitting on the lawn, watching Spring push Roman on the swing.
We had a momentary break for grilled chicken and corn on the cob for dinner that he and Daniel devoured before Roman wanted to swing again—higher and higher by request. But Dolly insisted that we first go on what she calls a “digestion walk.” Fall even caught up to the group after a long shift at the hospital.
It’s hard for my sisters to coordinate their schedules and be in one place at the same time, so it was nice for Fall to show up in time to meet Daniel and Roman.
And so tempting to pull her aside to share the details of the agreement.
If I’m going to be photographed, I’ll need to warn them anyway.
The words didn’t come when I needed them to, and where no one else would hear.
If I voice it, it makes the situation real.
And I think another night to sleep on it will do me some good.
We reached the marina at the edge of town, walking the docks, and having a quick chat with a friend coming off his boat before turning back.
Now, settled under the moonlight in the backyard watching the lightning bugs and the stars come out, I lean forward to peek over at Daniel sitting on the other side of Dolly.
She plonked her chair in the middle of us for some unknown reason.
That’s what we get for trying to pretend nothing is going on between us.
I would rather be in his lap than in the grass, but so much has happened that it’s probably best that we keep it low-key for now.
“I said there will be more sunsets,” I say louder as if he didn’t hear me the first time.
“Gracious. What in blazes are you shouting about sunsets for, honey?” Dolly grips the arms of her chair like she needs them to ground her after jumping out of her skin.
Daniel’s chuckling before his eyes meet mine. “There will be. Every night, technically.”
“I didn’t know if Daniel heard me.”
“Who didn’t hear you? I’m sure Mr. Taylor and Mrs. Browley up the road heard you.” Patting her chest, she sits back, muttering, “About gave me a heart attack.”
I think that’s my cue to get ready for bed. With Daniel being in the room, I need to get a head start anyway. Standing up, I dust the back of my shorts off. “I’m going in. It’s almost ten, and I want to do a face mask.”
Daniel appears to be working through my words like they’re code for something else. I add, “It’s a jelly mask.” I’m not sure that helped pull him from the path his mind was already traveling like a bloodhound on the scent. “Peach. Vitamin C.” I shake my head. “Forget it. Night, everyone.”
A chorus of “night” and a giggle from Roman is heard before I trek upstairs. I kind of want to take a bath. It would feel so good after running around all day. I glance toward the window that overlooks the others and decide. “A quickie.”
After turning on the water in the bath, I strip down and twist my hair up again, this time higher so it doesn’t get wet.
I pull a mask from my mask organizer and smooth it on before dipping one foot, then the other, and slowly sliding under the water.
The water hits the peak before it spills over, so I turn it off, then rest back on the bath pillow and close my eyes so the mask can do its job, and I can relax.
My muscles give in under the warmth of the water, but my mind is still swimming around the agreement Daniel and I made. Have logic and good sense gone out the window? Am I desperate enough to be one-half of a public spectacle of a couple to buy the cottage?
Yes.
And yes.
I’m not seeing any other way to get enough money in time to fight the other offer. I can’t ask my sisters. They have their own lives and dreams to pay for. This is it. Daniel is the only option I have.
Beads of sweat form at my hairline as the heated water sinks into my skin.
I’m surprised to see some bubbles remain.
Clearly, I’ve not been in long enough if those haven’t disappeared.
Closing my eyes again, the worries of money and broken pipes, and faking it for the cameras fade away.
But the idea of being on Daniel’s arm stays.
Like the first time I saw him, the memory has me biting my lip.
Counting those abs has my hand shifting under the water and between my legs.
My heart thumps as my body embraces the desire I have for him.
I stop and look back over my shoulder. I’m not worried about him walking in while I’m bathing. The suds hide enough. But catching me masturbating is a whole other story. Holding my breath, I listen.
Normally, my sisters sound like a stampede on these wooden floors. I’m greeted with silence, which means they’re still out back. Good.
Closing my eyes again, my thoughts go back to the first time our eyes met, an intensity like I’ve never felt before washing through me to take notice.
Rubbing slowly over my clit, I can still feel the spark from when we first touched.
When I was leaving and peeked back over my shoulder, I was met with a promise and a dare, as if he were my savior and the forbidden.
I tease and circle, rub and touch—
“Would you like company?”
My body flails as my legs slip out from under me when I hear his voice, the water splashing while I struggle to secure a hold of the sides of the tub. I catch myself, but not before the bubbles end up in my eyes and dissipate in the water. “Don’t look.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’ve seen a naked woman before.”
I swipe the suds from my eyes before they start burning. “It doesn’t, Daniel. Go.”
“Okay. Okay.” He walks away with heavy steps, and the door protests as it closes.
Turning on the faucet, I pour more bubble bath under the running water, letting it spread so the cooler water tempers the hot water I’ve been lying in. I pull off the mask, wad it up, and stick it to the edge.
I don’t know what he saw, but he’s the only thing that’s inspired me to feel anything sexual in an unhealthily long and dry stage of my life.
I should be embarrassed for what I was doing to his memory, but I can’t seem to muster the energy.
It felt too good to be ashamed. “Daniel?” I look back when the door cracks open, but it’s not enough to see him. “Don’t leave.”
“I’m here. What do you need?”
Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I fear being rejected. I don’t need the blow to my ego right now. Or ever. But the question is loaded. He just doesn’t realize it yet.
Do I ask?
Should I?
What am I doing? Oh God.
I’ve lost all better judgment around him, and why?
Because he has a great face, hands that I am desperate to feel cradle my body, and a soft side for me that apparently doesn’t exist for anyone else.
He knows my situation on the drought scale.
He understands how my type A personality fits into my neat-and-organized small-town life and accepts me for it.
He even feeds it by whispering sweet nothings, like suggesting we make rules and follow them.
I have the perfect guy asking how he can help me.
Please Lord, don’t let him reject me. “Can you help me with something?”
“What is it?” he asks through the one-inch opening of the door. “Do you need a towel?”
“No. I need . . .” I turn off the water again and sit back, covered in bubbles. Taking a breath, I ready myself for the worst, bracing the iron side of the claw-foot tub, and—
“Are you okay, Summer?”
“I’m fine,” I reply, losing my nerve. Just do it. “Can you come in here?”
The door slowly creaks open with his finger still in the air from pushing it open. “How may I be of assistance?”
Lying back in the tub, I keep my eyes forward while he remains behind me. “Did you see anything?”
“Other than you bathing?”
I glance back, seeing him leaning against the door with his arms crossed and admiring me like I’m prettier than any sunset, and ask, “Is that all?”
He smirks. “I saw you master-bathing.”
“Daniel!” The water splashes up the sides when I howl in laughter. “That’s such a bad joke.”
“Made you laugh, though.” His tone is as lighthearted as he makes me feel.
Happy. “I’ll give you that.” The earlier nerves rippling through me have disappeared, and I’m left with a smile and a desire to spend more time with him.
Sexually and not sexually, but in that order.
Do I cross the line from what this is—playful?
—to more? We’ve kissed, so I know the attraction is mutual.
I take a breath and try again. “I was . . .”
“You were what?”
“No, I was saying I was master-bathing.” I feel ridiculous repeating it, but his chuckle echoing in the small room makes me glad I did. But I’m not brave enough to ask this to his face and that great jaw of his, the eyes that stare at me expectantly, and just say it, Summer! “Maybe you could—”
“Lend a hand?” His tone is optimistic while I’m still second-guessing myself.
What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing? “Yes.” I drop my head into my hands, cringing as I wait for him to either laugh, run out the door, or accept the mission.
The sound of his footsteps draws me to peer through barely spread fingers. Daniel kneels beside the tub and pulls my hand away from my face. “Are you asking me to touch you, Summer?”
I nod, my breathing too erratic to speak.
“Do you want me to make you come, Summer?”
Unable to breathe at this point, much less think coherently, my head bobs up and down like a dashboard ornament.
He gets on his knee. “Lie back and close your eyes.”