Chapter 12
TWELVE
Remy
I'm scrubbing down my fishing boat after a charter, and I'm sweating buckets. It's three in the afternoon on a Florida July day, and I think Hades is less steamy than Cypress Grove right now.
It's been a great day so far, but I'm bone tired.
I'd taken a rich British tourist out on the water early this morning to fish for largemouth bass.
The water had been calm, the fishing hot.
A perfect day. It had seemed like everything in the water was biting, and the client was stoked. Tipped me real big, too.
As I'm just about to clean a portable cooler with a hose, I hear the slap of flip-flops on my dock.
"Hey you," comes the woman's voice.
I grin before turning around. Leilani.
"What are you doing here?" I dump the ice in the cooler overboard. The cubes practically melt on contact with the warm river water, which is kind of a metaphor for what happens to my insides every time I see her.
"I was running some errands and remembered you said in your text this morning that you'd be back around now. Came by to say hey."
Oh, yeah, I did text her before I went out at six a.m. It had been one of those rare nights when we didn't stay together, because I had a late night playing poker with my brothers.
I don't text her all the time, not really.
It's not like I have to check in with her.
I just like to see what she's up to, and this morning when I'd texted, she had been asleep and had responded with an adorably grumpy message, something about needing her beauty sleep.
"Sorry for waking you this morning."
She steps into the boat, the hem of her little, pink sundress kicking up and showing me a swath of her tanned legs. I want to groan out loud because she's a sight for my sore, sea-struck eyes.
She stands on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek, and her perfume washes over me. Her fingers graze my bare chest. Suddenly, I'm not so tired anymore.
"How'd it go on the water today?" I love that about her, how she always asks how my fishing trips went.
"Caught a lot of bass. They were biting like crazy. Oh, and we saw a manatee, too."
Her eyes light up. "Oh, I love those! Did you get photos?"
"I did, because I knew you'd want to see them. How were the contractors?" Today was the day they were supposed to finish the mermaid tank. She's been worried they would end up behind schedule.
"They didn't quite finish. Hit some sort of snag with the frame. They need to rebuild part of it. That's what I also came by to tell you."
"Aww. Not uncommon though. I'll be done in a few here. Wanna grab us some beers from the fridge down below?"
"Absolutely."
I spray the cooler as I watch her walk away, her hips swaying. It's been two weeks since we made our friends-with-benefits pact, and I swear, life's never been better. We have the kind of relationship I've dreamed about: spontaneous, casual, fun.
Leaving the cooler to dry in the sun, I make my way below deck. It's not big down here, just a small bench and a fridge. Meant for fishing trips, not entertaining. I don't mind.
She's already down there, head in the fridge, looking for beers. She straightens when she hears me, that grin on her face — the one she only ever shows in private.
I go to her and take her in my arms, planting a big kiss on her lips.
Whatever happens on a fishing boat at three o'clock on a Thursday afternoon is nobody's business but ours. And I'm not going to apologize for any of it.