Chapter 9
nine
AUTUMN
Trey: So, just curious... did you get the most important measurement?
Autumn: OMG. Are you seriously asking what I think you’re asking?
Trey:
Autumn: What happened to “hands to yourself, boo”???
Trey: I’m kidding! Jesus.
“Itold you he’d be good for business. He may be a hellion, but Zeke Holloway is the dude to follow around here these days.”
I’m lounging on the dock, sipping a glass of rosé, with my phone on the table beside me and Trey on speaker.
He’s just forwarded me a TikTok Zeke posted earlier today, where he’s hyping up my store and fashion line, and I have to say…
I’m kind of excited. It’s already got tens of thousands of views, and the number keeps climbing. So do the hearts and comments.
But Trey’s claim that Zeke will be good for business strikes me as premature. Sure, he might drum up some initial interest, but he’s also pretty fickle. He could just as easily be onto the next thing, gushing about some other chick’s sweat shop boutique next week. I just don’t know yet.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” I say, swirling the wine in my glass. “I mean, it’s cool—for sure. I’m just…”
“Thinking about how he makes out with ghosts on camera?”
“Basically.”
Trey gives a gruff laugh. “Yeah, he’s kind of a wild card. I’m with you on that. I say keep your distance, use his clout as a springboard, and let’s see how this plays out. It’s not like you’re sleeping with the guy.”
I take a sip of my wine.
“Autumn?” Trey’s voice is nervous, maybe even a little stern. I love when he gets stern with me. It’s so endearing. “You’re not sleeping with him, right?”
“God, no.”
I’m super glad we’re not on FaceTime because my cheeks are suddenly hot. There’s a part of me that wants to tell Trey about Zeke’s little erection debacle—okay, not so little, if you get my drift—but something about his tone gives me pause.
“Good.” Trey sounds satisfied, but then adds, “Because I don’t want to have to come do damage control. That kid is the absolute epitome of a heartbreak waiting to happen, and I know you’re not that dumb. Also, think about where that dick’s been.”
Oh, boy. Trey doesn’t know the half of what I’ve been thinking about since this morning. Not only have I been thinking of all the places Zeke’s dick has been, but I’ve also been thinking about all the places it could go. And what he might be able to do with it.
Shit. I need to get it together.
“Okay, well, I gotta go finish those alterations. I’ll text you, alright?”
Trey smacks his lips at me through the phone and ends the call. I place the phone face down on the table and sit for a minute, sipping my wine as I gaze out across the lake. It’s a sultry summer evening in New England, and the glimmer of the water as it ripples in the gentle breeze is breathtaking.
This place is my sanctuary. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as at home anywhere as I do here, surrounded by these quiet woods, enthralled by the beauty of the murky, yet magical lake.
Thank god my attorney pushed for this house as part of the divorce settlement.
It’s made staying in Hawthorne Bay, even when my family’s all in Connecticut, a no-brainer.
I’ll make things work.
I drain the rest of my wine and pour another. I’m starting to leaf through the latest issue of Citrine, my favorite Boston-based fashion magazine, when I see Zeke jogging down the driveway, apparently coming back from an evening run. I raise my wine glass to my lips and…
Well, I stare.
There’s nothing else I can do.
He’s shirtless, and every inch of his slim, sculpted body is glistening with sweat.
His blond hair, although also wet with sweat, is tousled and falling into his face in a way that makes me want to run my hands through it.
He’s like a fucking Greek god or something, all long, lean muscle and tanned, smooth skin.
Jesus. Someone his age has no business looking this good to me.
As he gets closer, he spots me on the dock and waves an arm above his head in acknowledgment.
I’m trying really hard to regain my composure—I will not have him thinking I was staring, even though I totally was—but now he’s close enough that I can see the muscles of his thighs working as he runs, and it’s hopeless. He’s absolutely gorgeous.
Zeke slows to a stop on the bank next to the dock. He’s panting, and he stops for a moment to catch his breath, resting his palms on his thighs. He looks up at me, his lips parting into a grin and says a bit breathlessly, “Hey, hot stuff. Nice night, huh?”
I sip my wine, casting him a side glance. “Yep. Have a nice run?”
“Oh, yeah. But god, is it hotter than balls out here.”
With Zeke standing so close to me, it’s impossible not to notice the definition of his midsection—and I honest to god almost suck in my breath.
His abs are like a freaking chocolate bar, like some kind of marble sculpture someone chiseled into and then polished over.
And with the sweat still glistening on them…
“Yeah, it’s still pretty humid. New England, huh?”
Zeke doesn’t answer, just gazes at me for a moment.
His eyes move to my magazine, and I see him squint, looking at the title.
Then, shooting me his signature little smirk, he leans down to pull off his socks and shoes, strides past me across the dock, and dives into the lake in one smooth motion, running shorts and all.
When he surfaces, he tosses his dripping hair out of his eyes and surveys me with a grin. “It’s pretty nice in here. You coming in?”
I take another sip of my wine, trying my best to keep my face as unaffected as possible. The long sleek arc of his youthful body as he dove in just now was… impressive. And watching him tread water in front of me like some kind of playful little puppy is annoyingly endearing.
“No, thanks,” I say. “It’s, like, eight at night. I’m not going to get my suit on just to splash around in the water with you for five minutes.”
Suddenly, a shower of lake water hits me in the face and I sputter, spitting out my mouthful of wine. “Zeke! What the hell?”
“Come on, Miss Priss,” Zeke says, smirking. There’s water dripping into his eyes, and I can see his golden limbs rippling beneath the surface of the lake. “You don’t need a suit. Just strip down and get in here.”
My brows shoot up. “Are you for real right now?”
“Entirely. Here, I’ll even go first.” He pauses a moment, and I see him doing something under the water, although I can’t tell what. And then a sopping heap that I recognize as his underwear and running shorts whips through the air and lands at my feet. “There.”
Well, fuck.
My heart rate has officially skyrocketed.
I down the rest of my wine, hoping my cheeks aren’t burning. “If you think I’m going to strip naked, in front of you—”
“Oh, come on, hot stuff,” Zeke says, laughing. “You can’t tell me you’ve never skinny-dipped before. You’ve got a wild side to you—you’ve just buried it a little bit, that’s all. Come on—I’ll turn around until you’re in the water.”
Dutifully, he turns and swims a bit further out, then calls, “Tell me when I can look.”
I sit there for a second, dumbfounded. The only sound is the slight evening breeze ruffling through the foliage overhead. Zeke’s not wrong. I have skinny-dipped before. But that was high school Autumn, and now I’m… I’m…
You know what? Fuck it. I’m not high school Autumn anymore, but I’m still Autumn. I’m post-divorce Autumn, is what I am. And maybe post-divorce Autumn skinny dips. Who the hell knows? Post-divorce Autumn can skinny dip if she damn well wants to.
Stripping off my shirt and jean shorts, I toss them onto the dock next to Zeke’s sopping clothes. As I stand there wearing nothing but a lacy bra and panties, my body feels like it’s suddenly gone electric. If I’m really going to do this, it’s now or never.
Taking a deep breath, I unhook my bra, step out of my panties, and drop both delicately onto the pile of clothes. Then, before I can think twice, I pad to the edge of the dock, curl my perfectly polished toes over the edge, and arc headfirst into the warm water of the lake below.
When I surface, my voice is quiet, but surprisingly steady. “You can look.”
Zeke swirls himself around to face me. He’s grinning, and his eyes stay—thankfully—fixed on my face as he treads water. “Nice of you to join me.”
I laugh, swimming out further from the dock, relishing the way the smooth, warm water glides over my bare skin.
I can hear Zeke following behind. The sun’s setting behind the woods now, the pinks and purples of the summer sky melting through the trees.
All around me, the surface of the lake shimmers with rippling, glistening light.
Zeke stops a few yards away from me, turns his face up to the darkening sky. There’s a part of me that wants him to look at me, for his eyes to travel down the pale, rippling form of my body beneath the water. And what—give some signal of approval? Some sign that he likes what he sees?
But he hasn’t yet. It’s enough for him that I’m here in the water.
That I let down my own guard enough to indulge another side of myself.
And I’m sort of glad about that—that he hasn’t ogled, or even so much as stolen a glance.
But my heart’s still pounding. We’re still out here naked together with no one else around, the water the only thing between us.
“It’s so beautiful out here,” Zeke says, breaking the silence. He’s still looking around in awe, like he can’t quite believe we’re here.
“It is,” I say. Aside from the hum of cicadas in the trees overhead and the chirp of the crickets, our voices are the only sounds. It’s strangely intimate, and I’m not sure what to say to him. At this moment, we feel like different people. “It’ll be nice for your pilot episode.”
Zeke shoots me a mischievous glance. “You want this in the episode?”