Chapter Eleven
Brooklyn
I take the car to go to the library again. I feel weird driving it, but it was part of the deal for the job, and I really need the money. I paid what I owed to have the car towed, and I barely have any money left over.
Rose’s face lights up when she sees me walk through the door. “You’re back.”
“I am. Good morning,” I say.
“Do you want me to get you set up again?”
“I’d love that. Thank you, Rose,” I say.
Once she has everything ready, I sit down at the computer. I don’t start working right away because I’m playing the conversation with Kip in my head over and over again. I’m also playing the two kisses in my head over and over and over and over and over again. I had some wild dreams last night.
I can’t believe I was so candid this morning. That’s not like me. Is it the red hair? The name change?
Brooklyn would never have suggested something like this in a million years.
Brooklyn is the sort of person who hides behind other people to stay out of pictures.
Brooklyn is the sort who is happy to go along with whatever the rest of her family is doing without a second thought.
Brooklyn is the sort of person to follow a man around for years like a puppy dog and never express her emotions until she’s forced to give up because he starts dating her roommate. Ugh.
This isn’t a smart decision. I normally make smart decisions. I take my time. I weigh everything out. I don’t let my emotions drag me around. I’m not impulsive.
Like this escape, I’d planned it for months.
I’m tired of being so responsible and sweet. I don’t want to melt into the background anymore. I always thought I was happy being a wallflower, but I enjoyed being the center of attention last night at the restaurant. I enjoyed being kissed like I was the only woman in the world.
The one thing that’s bothering me is Kip’s response this morning. It was not as enthusiastic as I’d hoped. Last night though, his body was plenty enthusiastic, that’s for damned sure. No wonder he didn’t sleep last night. Poor man was hard as a rock when I sent him away.
I wonder how much longer than a year it’s been for him.
“Ginger!”
I jump when I hear my name and turn to see Hawk walking toward me. He’s all smiles and looks like a sunrise coming toward me.
“Hey Hawk,” I say. I’m relieved I haven’t started any research. The last thing I need is for Hawk to catch wind of why I’m here.
“Is the internet out at the house?” he asks, frowning.
“No, I just needed to look up some things that are just on the library servers.”
He lowers his eyebrows. I’m confusing the heck out of him right now.
“How was your first night? Everyone seemed to like you a lot.”
“It was fun. I’m glad Kip let me do it.”
“Let you?” he asks.
“Oh, you know...the car crash and everything,” I say, quickly.
“And the baby stuff,” he says, quietly.
I avert my eyes and feel my cheeks grow pink.
“None of my business,” he adds. “Kip’s right though, and it pains me to say those words. You should probably wait a few days to work after getting banged up like that.”
“I feel fine. Just a little stiff.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Don’t overdo it.”
“I figured out who you look like,” he says. I stop breathing. Oh, shit.
“Emma Stone,” he says, shaking his head. “It was driving me crazy until I figured it out.”
“I get that a lot,” I lie. I don’t look anything like Emma Stone other than the hair, and we’re both pale.
“I bet you do,” he says.
“I’m surprised that Kip has the good sense to lock you down. He’s normally an idiot when it comes to women.”
“Is that right?” I say, leaning back in my chair.
“His ex-wife.” Hawk just shakes his head and lets out a low whistle. “Trouble.”
“Really?”
“He just never knew how to pick them. Glad he’s grown out of that.”
“Yeah. Me too.” I say, although I’m not sure he has.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you,” he says.
“Thanks, it was good running into you.”
He tips his head and walks away. Once I’m sure he’s completely gone, I get to work.
Yesterday turned up nothing. I’m really looking for a needle in a haystack right now, and the clock is ticking.
I have to go back to my life - back to work at the end of the summer, so if I can’t make this happen before then, it’s never happening.
After four hours, I find the teeny, tiniest breadcrumb trail.
I’m not sure it’s connected, but it’s the most promising thing I’ve seen.
I take a bunch of notes and close out the computer.
I’m not working today, so I should head back to the house and check out the groceries Kip had delivered and make some food.
I park in the garage and make my way to the kitchen. Something catches my eye outside, and I walk to the window.
Oh my god. I’ve walked up just in time to see Kip standing on the dock.
He kicks off his shoes, whips off his shirt and pulls off his bottoms until he is completely naked.
My knees nearly give out as I watch him.
He dives into the lake and starts to swim away from the dock.
Blue jumps in after him. Every nerve in my body is standing at attention.
I’m pretty sure my panties have completely melted, and no longer exist. I want nothing more than to join him, but I shouldn’t. Right?
Right?
I haven’t made my mind up about everything. We don’t have any condoms. I should be making some food and yet. Here I am halfway down the walk to the lake.
No. No. No.
This is not something Brooklyn would do. Brooklyn would not jump into a lake with a naked man she’s only known for less than a week and yet.
Here I am, standing on the dock.
No. Brooklyn. No. He doesn’t even know your name. He doesn’t know who you really are.
That thought sobers me, and I’m about to turn and run back inside when Kip spots me.
“What are you doing, Ginger?” he calls.
“I don’t know.” I call back.
“Have you been spying on me?”
“Yes.”
He’s treading water, and a huge smile has spread over his face. “Does that mean you’ve made a decision?”
“No.”
“But you’re standing here.”
“I am.”
“Looks like you’d like to get wet.”
Good lord. I clear my throat.
“I should be making some food for dinner.”
“Fuck dinner,” he calls, and I laugh.
“I’ll order take out,” he says.
I bite my lip. I’ve never, ever, done anything like this before.
“You’re thinking about it,” he says.
I’m about to pull my shirt off when I see my cast. I hold up my arm.
“Can’t swim in a cast.”
He frowns and then swims over to the edge of a dock and grabs a little raft.
“What if you put your arm on this?”
I bite my lip for a moment. I really shouldn’t. This is irresponsible on so many levels.
And yet.
I pull my shirt off over my head, and he cheers.
“Close your eyes,” I yell.
“Fuck no,” he calls. “Are you kidding me?”
I’m blushing.
“Okay, but no touching allowed,” I call back.
“Really?”
“I’m serious. You can look, but you can’t touch.”
“You torture me.”
“Do you promise?” I ask.
“Fine. I promise. No touching.”
I wiggle out of my shorts.
“No one else can see us, right?” I call.
“There’s no one for miles,” he says.
“Do you own all this?” I wave around.
“Yes. It’s private.”
Good. The last thing I need is naked pictures of me all over the internet. I’m pretty sure no one knows who I am or that I’m here, but I can’t discount the possibility.
“Do it. Do it,” he chants.
I shake my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
I reach behind me and unhook my bra. I let it fall to the ground, and then I slip out of my panties. He’s not saying anything, and he’s too far away for me to see his facial expression.
I climb down the ladder from the dock. When my feet hit the water, I yell, “Holy-moley, why didn’t you tell me the water is freezing?”
He cackles. “Ginger, you’re in Alaska. What did you expect?”
“But it’s freaking summer.”
“You should feel it in the winter.”
“No thank you,” I say.
He’s swimming my way.
“No touching,” I yell again as I lower most of my body into the water, holding my arm over my head.
“I hadn’t forgotten,” he says as he gets closer.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I whisper.
“Never skinny dipped before?” he asks, as he pushes the raft toward me. I rest my left arm on it.
“Gosh, no.”
“Why don’t you curse?” he asks.
“I do.”
“No, you don’t. You called me a butthead the other day, and I heard you say heavens to Betsy the other day like you’re ninety years old.”
I laugh. “I didn’t say heavens to Betsy.”
“You did.”
“Well, sometimes I curse when I’m really, really mad.”
He shoots me a look. “You haven’t been really mad at me yet?”
I laugh and lean more of my weight onto the raft. I know he’s getting an eyeful of my breasts, and I feel like I’d normally be self-conscious, but I’m not. I feel free and relaxed.
“I curse in my head, don’t worry.”
“That’s weird.”
“Is it?” I’d never really given it much thought.
“Yeah. It really is.”
“I have a job where I can’t say bad words, so I try not to in my everyday life. It’s hard to turn off and on, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t fucking know,” he says.
I splash water at him.
“You’re really beautiful,” he says.
“So are you,” I respond. The intensity of his gaze is lighting my body on fire despite floating in this outdoor ice bath.
“Am I going to regret this?” I ask.
“Swimming?”
“No. You.”
He doesn’t respond for a moment and then says, “I can’t tell you that, Ginger.”
We float around for twenty minutes, and he says, “You’re officially turning blue.”
As we make our way back to the dock, I say, “Oh god, did you bring a towel?”
“I brought two,” he says.
“Two. Were you expecting me to join you?”
“No, the other was for Blue.”
I laugh. “Is he going to be mad at me?”
“No, he’ll thank you. He hates it when I dry him off.”
He climbs out first, and I unabashedly stare at him. He wraps a towel around his waist and then helps me up the ladder and wraps me in a towel too. He whistles for Blue who is clear across the lake.
I’m shivering.
“We’ve got to get you warmed up, Ginger,” he says. “You really have turned blue.’
I grab my clothes. Blue jumps onto the dock and shakes off. We both follow Kip toward the house.
“Go take a shower,” he says once we’re on the patio. “I’ll make you some tea.”
I nod. I’m too cold to talk.
After a long hot shower, I slip into a big hoodie and sweatpants. When I walk into the kitchen, I see him, waiting for me with tea. He’s changed into sweats too.
“I made a fire,” he says, nodding outside.
I follow him to the patio. He sits down in front of the fire pit and pats for me to sit beside him. Once I sit down, he grabs a blanket from the back of the seat and wraps it around my shoulders.
“Better?”
“Yeah,” I say, taking a sip of my tea. “Thanks.”
We watch the fire dance for a moment.
“It’s really beautiful here,” I say.
“Yeah. I’m lucky. What’s it like where you grew up?” he asks.
“Nice try,” I say.
“Worth a shot. You really aren’t going to tell me anything about yourself?”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“I don’t like that,” he says.
I’m ready for this conversation to be over. I set down my tea and place my hand on his chest. I feel his muscles tense, his breathing stop.
“Less talking,” I say.
His mouth is on mine immediately, his hand cupping my face.
I swing my leg around him and sit on him, straddling his lap.
There’s no missing his erection in his sweatpants.
I rub myself against him, allowing him to grind up against my most sensitive spot.
We both groan. I’m growing needy. He starts to slide his hand under my sweatshirt, and I pull back.
“Over the clothes only.”
He freezes his hands on my ribs. The heat from his fingers spreads through my body.
“What?”
“We don’t have any condoms,” I say.
“Well sorry to have to be the one to educate you, Ginger, but this isn’t how people get pregnant.”
I sigh. “I just don’t want to get carried away.”
“How about touching under clothes but keeping clothes on.”
“Deal,” I say, returning my mouth to his. He creeps his hand up higher until he’s touching my breasts. I didn’t put on a bra after my shower, and as soon as he realizes this, I hear him whimper.
His hand skims over my soft skin, causing me to tremble.
“God, Ginger, you feel so good.”
I’m exploring his shoulders and chest with my hands. I wish his shirt was off, but rules are rules.
“Did you order condoms?” I ask, pulling back.
“Yes.”
“When will they get here?”
“Not soon enough,” he growls.
I’m rolling my hips into him; the pressure is building in my body. He grabs my ass and pulls me into him.
“You’re going to make me come in my pants,” he says between ragged breaths.
“That’s the whole fucking idea,” I say.
He coughs and sputters. “Ginger, you are full of surprises.”
His mouth is back on mine, and I ride him harder. My underwear is soaked, but there’s at least three layers of clothes between us.
“Fuck,” he says as I feel his body start to stiffen. My legs are quivering as I roll into him again.
“Fuck,” I say as I come. His hand is gripping the back of my neck. He squeezes tighter as he comes.
I bury my head in the nook between his neck and shoulder. We’re both breathing hard.
“I don’t think someone’s made me come in my pants since I was fifteen,” he says.
I laugh, still struggling for air. My whole body is buzzing. I can’t move yet. Every part of me feels like mush.
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
He pulls his head back. “Do you only curse in the bedroom?”
I sit up straight and look him directly in the eye. “That’s fucking right.” I say pointing at him.
He lets out the loudest laugh. “Ginger, I can’t.”
I’m laughing now too. “And, when I’m really, really angry.”
He’s shaking his head. “I don’t think I could be with a woman if she said things like holy moley and heavens to Betsy in bed.”
“Shiver me timbers,” I say. We’re both laughing so hard now my stomach hurts.
“Oh god,” I say, holding my sides. “Laughing this hard is damaging my bruises.”
His hands are gripping my hips. He’s not laughing anymore. He’s just watching my face.
“What?” I say.
“That was nice.”
I blush. “Yeah. It was. Thank you.”
I lift my leg and scramble off him.
“Well, I should probably get dinner started,” I say, turning back toward the house. His hand grabs my wrist.
“I’m ordering take out, remember?”
“Right.”
“Sit,” he says.
He pulls me back down beside his body and wraps his arm around my shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Oh, god, maybe no extra cuddling should be a part of our rules because I’m enjoying this way too much.
I don’t say anything. I’d forgotten how nice it feels to be touched.
It’s been far too long. I just soak up the warm glow of the fire, the warm glow of his body, and the warm glow of that earth-shattering orgasm.
It’s been too long for that too. Far, far too long.
“What are you frowning about, Ginger?”
“Nothing,” I say. “What are we getting for dinner?”