Chapter 9 #2
“Do you?” I quirk an eyebrow at him. He wants to rile me up, but I’m not taking that bait. No, this Autumn—skinny dipping Autumn—is cool and collected.
“Nah,” Zeke says. He’s still a few yards away, but he looks right at me, his blue eyes shining in the half-light. “This is for you and me.”
My skin prickles, a delicious shiver running through me.
I’m not even sure why. I kind of assumed Zeke would be raking his eyes over me the second I slipped into the water, but he hasn’t.
The skinny-dipping thing may have been his idea, but he hasn’t made another move—if that’s what suggesting this even was.
But hearing that he doesn’t want this moment shared outside the two of us…
I like it. It feels naughty, suggestive.
If this is what letting my guard down around Zeke feels like, it’s a mistake I want to keep making. A sin you bet your ass I want to savor.
I am so incredibly tempted to swim closer to Zeke—and maybe catch a glimpse of something—but the difference between a little flirting and actually acting on that urge is huge. Definitely not a step I want to take. I need to distract myself, let my heart rate come down a little bit.
“So, what does Will say about this pilot competition?” I’ve already talked with Lydia about it, and I know Will’s the one who’s always harping on his brother to get his act together.
Zeke looks at me sharply. “Why do you want to talk about Will?”
“I don’t,” I say, a little shocked at his reaction. “I was just curious. You don’t have to answer.”
Zeke sighs. “Will has… his ideas. About how things are supposed to be. How I am supposed to be.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
Zeke’s eyes trace the trees against the sky. “Oh, like how I’m supposed to get some kind of corporate job, for example.”
“You don’t want to?”
“Nah. I’ve got a friend from college—Carter—who’s always nagging at me to come and work with him, and Will just doesn’t get why I wouldn’t take it. It’s hard to explain.”
I’m quiet, pondering. Floating languidly in the water like this with Zeke feels somehow outside of time and space. Like anything I say here stays here. Between us.
“I think you should do what you want,” I say. “You’re, like… full of life.”
Zeke’s laugh is rich and vibrant as it rings out into the summer evening. “Full of life, huh?”
“Yeah.” I pause, sifting through my thoughts as I tread water. “You just… exist on your own terms, unapologetically. It’s kind of amazing.”
Zeke’s mouth twists, and I’m suddenly a little embarrassed at how vulnerable I’m letting myself be with him. But to hell with it—it’s just the two of us, alone with the darkening sky and the chorus of the crickets in the trees.
“I guess what I mean is… good on you,” I say. “For prioritizing your happiness. Don’t stop doing that.”
He looks at me pointedly. “Are you speaking from experience here?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. And it’s the truth. “I just mean I understand your feeling. It was bad when I was married. Like I had to fit inside this perfect little box that would never fucking change. There wasn’t room to care about the stuff I wanted to do.”
“Yes,” Zeke says. “That’s it—exactly how I feel with all these expectations everyone is always trying to pin on me.”
He slips beneath the surface of the water, a dark, glimmering shape in the twilight, and resurfaces again, this time closer to me. He shakes the water gently out of his eyes, fixing me with an even gaze. “You know… It’s easier when you keep on moving.”
His voice is quiet, and I can’t read his face in the darkness. I swim a bit closer to him, fully aware that the space between us is closing dangerously fast. “What do you mean?”
Zeke’s gaze never strays from my face, although I’m fully aware of my white, bobbing breasts in the darkness of the water. “Just—you know. Keep things moving. Don’t get too attached to stuff. It’s when you slow down that shit gets real.”
I laugh softly. Again, he’s not wrong. But I can’t live like that—and it makes me a little sad to know he does. Although it seems to be working for him. I’ve never met someone so carefree and electric.
“So you never slow down?” I ask.
“Not if I can help it.”
“Noted.”
As we bob silently up and down in the gently rippling water, Zeke studies me. His expression’s changed, and I get the feeling that some kind of wall has come slamming down, however silently.
“It’s dark,” he says. “I’m going to head in.”
I swallow hard, feeling weirdly crestfallen. “Yeah. Me, too.”
We swim back to the dock, and I hang behind. The magic of whatever moment we were in has vanished, and dark or not, I’m not climbing up that ladder naked for Zeke to see.
But Zeke doesn’t have such qualms. When we reach the dock, he grips the handles of the ladder and pulls his bronzed, glistening body from the water, climbing the rungs without a look behind. I stifle a gasp, avert my gaze.
“Enjoying the view down there?”
“What? No—no, I didn’t—”
I’m staring off toward the other side of the lake, but I hear Zeke laugh. “It’s okay. Feel free to stare—I don’t mind.”
And with that, I hear him grab his clothes and shoes and walk lithely back down the dock. Only when the padding of his feet on the heavy wooden slats grows softer do I finally chance a glance in his direction.
He’s far enough away that I don’t feel like an absolute creep, but close enough that I can clearly see the solid, sloping muscles of his back. And his tight, glorious ass. Holy hell, does this guy have a perfect ass.
The problem is, Zeke may not mind me staring… but I do. Because as much as I’m trying to fight it, I’m getting more and more lost in his charm. And there’s no way we could ever work.
But I’m still like a moth to a light—hopelessly captivated by everything he does, everything he says. I want more. Because whether he realizes it or not, Zeke sees me.
And I’m starting to think maybe I can see him too.