Chapter 9
I wake up smiling.
It takes me a minute to realize why, but then it all comes back to me in flashes.
My eyes are closed and my mind is grasping for a dream.
Even though it’s sifting through my fingers like sand—there are waves and laughter and beer and the taste of salt on my lips.
That wasn’t a dream. It was last night. Zach.
His mouth on mine, warm and sure. He made my whole body feel like it was finally plugged back into life. He made me feel alive again.
I open my eyes. They sweep left, then right. I am alone in a room that is definitely not mine. Okay, then. I guess I slept over.
I have no clue where Zach is, or how long he’s been gone.
I stare at the white ceiling fan lazily turning above me.
My brain, in contrast, is gearing up for warp speed.
Was this a mistake? This wasn’t part of the plan.
Oak Island was supposed to be my fresh start.
My year of proving to myself I could do one thing outside of my comfort zone. Renovate, flip, move on.
I was not supposed to fall into… whatever this is with Zach Draper. Bed, I suppose. I fell into bed with him.
I roll to my side and groan into the pillow, then notice it smells like Zach, so I force myself to get up. I detect the aroma of coffee. Coffee will help, right? I’ll make a lame joke about AARP commercials, say thanks for a swell night, peck him on the cheek, then high-tail it out of here.
I pick up my clothes from the floor—undies and jeans. I frantically scan the room. Where the fuck are my shirt and my bra? I rush over to the bed and rifle through the bedding, then drop to my hands and knees and peek under the bed. Then I remember. They are downstairs. Fuck.
I duck into the bathroom and find only two options to cover up—a slightly damp hand towel and a washcloth.
Seriously. That’s it. Zach must have everything else in the laundry.
Through the cracked window, I hear the low rumble of the ocean.
For a minute, I let it soothe me. Deep breaths.
It’s fine. I’m fine. Last night was just—heat of the moment. No big deal.
I pull on my jeans, then pad down the hall, holding the washcloth against my chest. As I start down the stairs, I hear it. A knock at the door. I freeze. Did he order breakfast? Is he expecting someone?
Then I hear a voice, sweet and tentative. “Dad?”
Oh God. I reach for the railing to brace myself. I slowly sink down until I’m sitting on the top step.
“Brooke?” Zach asks. I hear the sound of the deadbolt, then the door opening. “Hey, honey. What a nice surprise.”
“I brought coffee. And bagels. I thought we could talk,” she says.
My heart squeezes. This is so good for Zach. This is what he wanted. The timing? A tad… unfortunate.
“Yeah. Of course. That sounds amazing.” The door closes.
“This place is so cute. I like it a lot,” she says.
“Thanks. It’s working out great so far.” He clears his throat. “Why don’t you get comfortable? I need to run upstairs for one thing. It’ll just take a sec.”
“Ooh. I’ll come. I want to see your room.”
Oh shit.
“Oh, no. It’s a mess,” Zach says.
“Dad. Like I’m not a total slob. Come on. I’ll race you.”
Oh shit oh shit oh shit. I leap up from my perch and retreat double-time back into the bedroom. I’m frantically looking for my escape. Somewhere to hide. A disguise? Meanwhile, there’s a thunder of feet on the stairs. And I’m wearing jeans and a washcloth. I duck into the bathroom.
I don’t make it.
“Oh my God!” Brooke shrieks.
I drop the washcloth and grab a throw pillow from the chair in the corner, shielding my body with it, then turn. “You must be Brooke.”
“Excuse me?” she asks, bug-eyed. She’s pretty in the effortless way eighteen-year-olds are. “Who are you?”
“Brooke, I can explain.” Zach has arrived. He’s concerned. But he’s also kind of smiling at me. I must look ridiculous.
I reach out my hand, a corner of the pillow tucked in my opposite armpit. “I’m Jodie. I live next door.”
Brooke turns to her dad. “You’re sleeping with your neighbor? You just moved in two weeks ago.”
“To be fair, we knew each other in Chapel Hill. We’ve known each other for a long time.” Zach glances at me with a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I should’ve grabbed your top. And your bra. They’re downstairs. On the kitchen counter. Neatly folded.”
“Oh, my God. This is…” Brooke shakes her head and holds her hand over her eyes for an instant. “Sorry. I just need a minute to catch up. It’s not every day you have to be confronted with your dad’s sex life.”
“I’ll get going and let you two have your time together.” I slip past both of them, still clutching the pillow. “It was nice to meet you, Brooke. Hopefully I’ll get to see you again some other time.”
“Maybe when you have a shirt on?” she asks.
“Sure. Sounds great.”
“Jodie. Wait.” Zach steps into the hall.
I hold up my hand to keep him at bay. “Zach. No. It’s fine. You need your time with your daughter. Brooke is way more important.” I feel like an intruder. An interloper.
I hurry down the stairs and into the kitchen, but Zach is apparently not good at following instructions, because he follows me. “Jodie. Hold on.”
I spot my bra and top on the counter, and grab them, along with my bag. I clutch everything against my chest. “Really. It’s okay.” I open the door, but he stops me with a hand on my arm.
“I’m serious. I don’t want you to leave like this. I didn’t know she was coming over, okay?”
“Of course you didn’t. And I’m excited for you. This is progress, right? You two need this time together.”
He smiles. “Last night was great.”
Great? It was better than great. That’s part of why I’m so freaked out. I return the grin, but not at full strength, because I can now see Brooke standing at the bottom of the stairs. “It was. And I’ll see you later.”
“Tonight?”
I swallow hard. I need to keep my distance. God knows we can’t let this become a habit. “Tomorrow?”
He hesitates. He almost seems hurt, which makes this so much worse. “Right. The auction.”
Oh, shit. That’s tomorrow. Dammit. “Yes. I’ll see you then.
” I step outside and retreat to my side of the duplex.
I head up to my bedroom. I want to flop onto the bed, but I need to get my act together.
I can’t afford to wallow in my poor decisions.
Swim around in my mistakes. I need to take a shower, get back to my spreadsheet, and get serious about tomorrow.
That house down on 74th Street is what I came for.
Not sex with Zach Draper. Not flirting or mini golf or beers and crab legs under string lights. I came here to set myself on a new path.
And that’s exactly what I intend to do.
Last night might have felt like the beginning of something, but I’m afraid that was the beer talking. And some very weak and fallible part of my personality that wants to believe I can have a romance that doesn’t kill me.
But I’m not ready for the deep end of that pool. I need to know my limits.
At the very least, I need water wings.