14. Summer
Summer
A ll week long, I was working twelve- to fourteen-hour shifts at the hotel. We had guest disputes, a server who quit midshift, and the ever-present Why was I charged thirty dollars for a movie? —because someone in your room ordered a porno.
After each day, I would collapse on the couch, exhausted and barely able to turn on The West Wing .
What I wasn’t too tired to check on, was the unfolding drama of the mystery dog-napper. I didn’t have to wait long for someone to post on the Ridgewood Community page after the flyer. People in the comments thanked the poster for alerting the public, while some thought it was unfair to accuse a man with no proof. Whether they were on his side, everyone seemed to think it was real.
I didn’t need Cory to get in trouble. No Ranger existed to have been stolen, after all. But it seemed to amp up the fear of outsiders that most old-time Ridgewoodians had.
That nosy neighbor, Mrs. Partridge, had even commented, My prayers to Ranger’s family .
I snorted when I read that.
Since it was only one of many, I enjoyed the discourse around it, the comment section soaring to over one hundred before an admin shut it off. All the busybodies in Ridgewood would talk about this, with the suspicious cars and the rumors of paid parking on Front Street.
It was my first day off in days, and I was frozen in front of my dresser, the weight of too many decisions heavy on me. Namely, what should one wear when going on the boat of a man they barely knew? Particularly when that man had broad shoulders and piercing gray eyes who insisted on changing your oil and walking you home from the bar?
After the trivia night, he would check in on me and updated me on his foot, while I sent him a picture of the blanket I was making.
It was all innocent. I could almost convince myself that the funny feeling between my legs when he leaned in close to me was all in my head. That the kiss we shared on that boardwalk was a little mistake, not to be repeated.
Still, I tried on all my suits while deciding which was best. Would I go with the neon green string bikini from a girl’s trip to Puerto Plata or the sensible black one-piece I had reserved for water parks to avoid flashing everyone while going down the Cascade Scream Drop?
I pulled out a boring suit, a pale pink gingham print in a short tank style with a little ruffle along the bust and matching high-waisted bottoms.
I deliberated over wearing a dress or shorts and a T-shirt, then settled on the latter. Once I pulled the Ridgewood Marine Science Center tee I had commandeered from Autumn a few months before over my head, I got the chime of a text letting me know Van was in the lot, waiting for me, who had offered to drive so I wouldn’t have to find parking at the marina.
I grabbed my bag, sunscreen, towel, and a small wallet and headed the three floors down.
Van was sitting in his green truck, with his arm sticking out the window. In the back was a small cooler and another bag with towels in it.
“Where’s the boat?” I asked as I climbed in.
“Already in the water. I had Xander help me put it in an hour ago, so you don’t have to wait on me.”
“That was nice of you.”
He chuckled. “To be honest, Ana told us that was the only way she’d come, so it was Xander’s idea. He’s going to grab her and the baby now.”
We drove toward the edge of town to the marina. The air was unseasonably warm for the Pacific Northwest, forecasted to hit the mid-nineties by noon.
“Baby?”
He flicked on his turn signal in the left lane and glanced at me. “Yeah, I guess she’s not technically a baby. She’s like one or two or something. Max, super cute kid.”
In theory, I liked babies but didn’t have much experience with them. My cousins with kids lived too far away, and aside from one friend who had a kid at seventeen, no others had any yet.
The pressure to be good with this mystery child was heavy on me. What if I wasn’t looking and it fell overboard? Was this some test?
Once we got to the marina, he strolled to the passenger side door to let me out, but I had already hopped down, bag in hand. The walk from the truck to the dock was subdued with the waves lapping at the boats and the distant barking of harbor seals who sunned themselves on a float.
As we reached the metal grate, Van’s phone rang. He frowned at it, answering.
Whoever was on the other line, he spoke to quickly, assuring them it was fine, and he hoped everyone felt better. After disconnecting, he slid the phone back into his pocket.
“That was Xander. Max threw up. They can’t make it.”
The timing felt suspect.
I frowned at him. “Are you trying to get me alone on the water to murder me?”
He blinked in surprise. “What? No. If you don’t want to go boating alone with me, you don’t have to. I really did invite them. Xander helped me put the boat in. You can call him and ask. Or better yet, call Ana.”
While I had been led astray by my instincts before, something told me he was being truthful.
I pursed my lips. “Alright, just know I already told Autumn and Devin what I’m doing today, so if I go missing, you’re for sure getting fired.”
“Noted.” He quirked a smile at me, waving for me to go first down the ramp. “We won’t waste a beautiful day like this, will we? The sun is shining. I have sandwiches and chips packed already. A few beers on the open seas.”
“Technically, this is a fjord. Formed by glaciers.”
I regretted my words immediately. I had no reason to be pedantic.
He raised a brow at the correction and smiled bigger. “A few beers on the open fjords and a lovely lady at the helm.”
I shook my head, hiding my smile.
The boat was a cuddy cabin model. It was older, with fading blue paint on the sides, but clean.
Van grabbed the side, bringing it toward the dock. “Your ship awaits.” He reached out to help me step onto it.
Swinging my leg over the side, I stepped on the white leather bench seat in the rear.
His thumb traced the back of my hand, and a sizzle traveled up my arm and down to my core. Barely on the boat, I knew this day was already testing my resolve to not dry hump Van.
Once on, I set my bag down and glanced around.
I had been on boats before. Wren’s asshole ex had one he used to bring us on. He would speed around lakes, while a seasick Wren would struggle to keep down the contents in her stomach.
On the dock, Van untied the ropes and flung them into the boat before pushing off the dock and jumping in. Setting his stuff down, he gathered a small florescent item and lifted the bench seat to place it in there. “Don’t need that anymore.”
“You have a kid’s life jacket on your boat when you don’t have kids?” I paused. “You don’t have any, right?”
He laughed. “No kids of my own, no. I knew I’d have to be outfitted if I had any chance of getting Ana and Xander on board. It’s good to have anyway. You never know.”
I nodded as if that made sense, but my mind continued whirring.
He handed me a green item. “Put this on.”
I took it from him, holding it away from me. “I know how to swim.”
He frowned. “Try it on and tighten the straps. I want to make sure it fits you before we go.”
Rolling my eyes, I pulled it over my shoulders and tried fastening the buckle. After pulling the straps out, I tried again to no avail.
When he saw I was struggling, Van grabbed a different life vest and handed it to me. No comment on the size, no joke about how it didn’t fit, just concentration as he helped it slide over my shoulders. “I take aquatic safety seriously. I was a lifeguard at the Ridgewood pool for five years.” He gripped the bottom, sliding the zipper together. His fingers brushed the bare skin of my stomach, and an ache between my legs formed.
Once he was content, he tossed the life jackets into the empty cabin and directed me to sit in the pilot’s chair.
We floated away slowly as he started the engine.
Soon, we were out of the no-wake zone and passing a float of harbor seals.
The sunshine warmed my cheeks as the boat picked up speed, the wind blowing my hair back.
Freedom Bay was glassy smooth as we made our way out of the narrow channel and into the wider sound.
I held on tight to the edge of my white leather pilot’s chair as we cut through the water, the outline of the Olympic mountains soaring above us to the west.
Beside me, Van stood behind the steering wheel, salty gusts whipping his dark hair off his face. He glanced at me and smiled, and I unraveled.
In books, authors would describe a smile as devastating. I never understood that phrase. Never in all my years of dating, of the men and women I flirted with, did I ever suffer more than little butterflies from a smile. A smile could be charming, suave, or shy. But I clung to the belief that I was far too sensible to be caught up by a smile.
Until that day on the boat.
When Van smiled at me, his whole face lit up, his mouth crooked to the right. His gray eyes crinkled at the corners, and his cheeks stretched to show a dimple on his left side.
Fucking dimple.
The breath I let out was shaky, and I had to swallow to fight the rising urge to lick my lips.
I had seen him smile before, with his little smirks and friendly grins. But this?—Oh, this, what he gave me, sucked the air from my lungs.
There was no reason I could know this, but I did. That smile was for me and me alone. The whooshing of the wind died, and all I wanted—no, needed —was for Van to smile at me like that again. To assure me that I was the only one.
At some point, he cut the engine, letting us drift around in the tides. I moved to the back bench seat, stretching out. Without the sea spray and rushing air, the sunshine was balmy on my skin.
Abandoning my sandals, I wiggled my bare toes as I tipped my head back against the padded bench.
Van fished a beer out of the cooler and handed it to me. I popped the top and brought it to my mouth when Van reached behind his head and pulled his shirt off.
I knew he had a nice body, having felt enough of it pressed against me on the boardwalk. But nothing could have prepared me for the sight of him, sun-soaked and strong. A smattering of dark hair covered his chest, and his shoulders were broad and muscular. A faint pink scar about three inches long marred his right collarbone. His wasn’t the body of someone who spent all their time at the gym, sculpted and lean. Instead, it was sturdy. The kind you could wrap your arms around, and it would keep you steady.
With the can almost at my lips, I froze.
He glimpsed me, his brow furrowed.
Huffing loudly, I chugged half the can and looked away. Somehow, I willed my cheeks not to flame red at being caught ogling him.
He had to know what he looked like, right? I wouldn’t be the first woman to stare open-mouthed at his man.
Either he was polite enough not to call me on it, or he didn’t notice my absolutely batshit response to his bare chest.
Turning the pilot’s chair to face me, he stretched his feet out to rest alongside mine.
He had nice toes. I never thought I’d notice a man’s toes, but I did.
He tipped his head back, his eyes closed, the sun bright on his face.
Well, if he can take his shirt off, so can I.
Tossing it to the side, I watched him open one eye and then another. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he looked me over.
“Fuck me.” He murmured so low I knew he didn’t mean for me to hear it. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he let out a big sigh.
I smirked, laying back on the bench. Content with torturing him the way he was with me, I closed my eyes.
Small waves splashed against the boat, creating a sense of serenity. Somewhere in the distance, a horn sounded, and birds called to one another. The ambiance lulled me, and my thoughts drifted away.
The rocking of the boat had my eyes snapping open, a dull buzz in my brain signaling I hadn’t just rested my eyes but had fallen asleep. Weird.
Falling asleep in front of a man was never something I enjoyed doing. At Cory’s, I couldn’t fall asleep until he did, waiting until his breathing became snores before I’d allow my mind to rest.
But this was the second time Van had seen me sleeping. I couldn’t think too hard about that.
I blinked the mid-afternoon film from my eyes and rolled over on my side to look at Van.
With a can of soda in one hand, he raised the other at a passing boat. Likely the reason ours teetered in the wake.
“How long was I out?” I asked, my voice scratchy with sleep.
“Fifteen minutes? Something like that.”
I sat up, rubbing my face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to doze off. I guess the long hours finally got to me.”
He shrugged, a small grin playing up his features. “I don’t mind. You’re cute when you’re sleeping.”
“As opposed to what?” I arched a brow, pulling myself up to sit.
He threw his head back and laughed at my haughty expression. “Oh, no. You’re not trapping me like that. Don’t act like you don’t know you’re beautiful.”
Heat that had nothing to do with the high noon sun warmed my cheeks. It certainly wasn’t the first time someone had said those words to me. But his absolute confidence in not only finding me beautiful but knowing that I, too, knew it was a shock.
It was with a sad realization I recalled that most men used compliments like this as a gateway to get what they wanted. As if they were the only ones who could see me that way.
But not Van. He not only appreciated how I looked, but he was glad I was secure in myself. It was a rare thing.
“Switching to soda?” I motioned to his hand.
“I have a buddy who got a BUI. Trying to be careful here.”
The word sounded like “buoy.”
“A what?” I laughed.
“B-U-I. Boating under the influence. BUI.”
A brow raised, I assessed him. “That’s responsible.”
He shrugged. “Well, I’m an adult. Plus, I have precious cargo.”
He winked at me, and a flutter flared between my legs. If I were reading it in my historical romances, I would have used “loins.”
He handed me another drink.
As I took it, I noticed it was my favorite flavor of a small craft brand. This wasn’t one you could buy at any store but would have to drive to the next town and get it from their taphouse.
“I bet you say that to all the girls.” I took a sip of the huckleberry-flavored drink.
“Only the ones I can’t stop thinking about.” A grin crossed his lips, a playful glint in his eyes.
I gulped the cold drink, trying in vain to cool myself down from the heat of his gaze.
“Don’t play with me, Van. I’m serious. I’m not some silly girl for you to jerk around.”
“Who’s playing?” He leaned forward. His feet planted on the floor of the boat, his elbows on his knees as he grew serious. “Seems to me you’re the one in charge here. Walking onto my boat in those little shorts and that smart mouth that’s begging to be kissed.”
“I don’t want to kiss you. What happened the other night was a—”
He shook his head at me, tsking. “No, we won’t do that. No lying to me, okay?” He moved to the bench and leaned over me.
Moving my ankles from the bench, he placed them on the floor, my feet touching his upper thigh.
I should’ve told him to move away from me. This was perilous. I wouldn’t want him this way, not now. But I couldn’t bring myself to back down.
I tugged my shorts down over my legs and tossed them onto the pilot seat. My eyes bored into his as he watched me, the corner of his mouth pulled up in a small grin.
I shrugged. “Okay. No lying. Got it.”
Leaning closer, he braced a hand on each side of me. My head fell back against the padded rest. Poised over me, his thick thighs wedged between my own, his breath hot on me.
Only my thin suit and his board shorts separated us.
My face inches from his, I stared into his determined eyes as he said, “I mean it. Promise me that, whatever happens, we won’t lie to each other.”
I couldn’t think of words. His muscles flexed between my legs as he held himself over me.
“Now, if you don’t want to tell me something, that’s fine. Tell me it’s none of my business, and that will be it. But don’t lie.”
“Same for you.” My words were more solemn. “You don’t tell me what I want to hear. Or whatever it would take to get into my pants.”
He threw his head back, laughing, the long cords of his throat straining.
Against the blue and white of the sky, he looked like something out of an early aughts ad campaign for an All-American clothing brand.
“Sunshine, I wouldn’t have to say a word to get into your pants.”
Most women would giggle at that, bat their lashes, blush. But I squared my shoulders, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
The twinge between my legs manifested into a ticking bomb. I resisted the urge to close my legs. I wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction.
“You think I’m that easy?”
An edge of challenge laced my tone.
“No, darling. I’m just that good.”
The pulse quickened between my legs. Dear Lord, I could almost believe him. At the very least, he believed it of himself. Damn if that confidence wasn’t sexy in a man. Especially in one who hadn’t said anything about himself he couldn’t prove later.
“So, do something about it.”
His mouth found mine as he pressed me into the foam bench. Tracing the seam of my mouth, his tongue begged for entry.
My hands roamed over his backside, pulling him harder against me, his full, rigid length grinding into my center.
As his kiss deepened, his hips moved, rubbing the delicate place that needed him.
I moaned into his mouth, and he trailed kisses down my cheek, down my throat, and down the hollow of my collarbone.
“You’re driving me crazy with this suit, you know that?” he whispered against my throat.
“It’s nothing special,” I breathed out, wrapping my legs around his waist.
“It’s everything. The pastel, so innocent-looking on that body.” He groaned and pushed harder against my core. “So fucking sweet. I want to peel it off and feast on you.”
“If this is how you react to a boring old tank suit, what would you have done if I had worn my string bikini?”
His breath hitched as he stared down at my body.
“Dear God, I can’t even handle that image right now.”
He scraped the soft skin of my throat with his teeth, and I tightened my grip around his waist. His hands on my breasts, he pulled down the front of my suit. One popped free, and he took one into his mouth. With a light stroke of his tongue, the air cooled my damp skin bared to the summer sky. A nip of his teeth shot sparks from my aching breasts to my clit, and I whimpered.
“Oh my fucking God,” I gasped out. Guiding his head with my hands in his hair, I held him steady as I brought my hips up to rub against his cock.
My bikini bottom was so thin he could’ve easily pushed it to the side and slid right into me.
Dragging his teeth over to my other breast, more aggressive, he scraped and sucked. “How long I’ve thought about you like this? How are you this perfect?”
I didn’t have a moment to think about his words before he slid my bottoms off and put his mouth on my clit. His fingers delved between my folds, parting me. As his mouth worked on my clit, his fingers swirled around, hitting that spot on the front that always makes me shudder.
He had talented fingers.
“Your cunt tastes like sunshine.” He groaned against my inner thigh. With his free hand, he dug them into my ass cheeks, bringing me deeper into him.
My hands were in his hair. Whether I had been pulling or pushing, I couldn’t tell.
My climax built inside me, conjuring indiscernible murmurs. The familiar cacophony of waves, birds, and ferry horns became white noise to the sensations coursing through me.
Van’s tongue swirled around my clit, sucking it in rhythm with his fingers, and I cried out. As I fell apart in his arms, he held me on the bench.
Senses floated back to me slowly. First, the kiss of wind on my exposed body, then the pressure of his face resting against me, still between my legs.
“Come home with me. Come home, and I’ll take care of you all night.” His gray eyes melted me, heat still flooding through me. He pressed a kiss to the delicate skin of my inner thigh.
It’s a bad idea. Bad, terrible, treacherous, but I can’t say no.
I nodded at him, and his smile turned triumphant, the promise of more and the assurance of nothing. It’s sin and sex, and while this choice would make it hurt all the more when he stuck to his word, nothing could make me refuse him.
He climbed over my naked form again, kissing me. With his hand in my hair, he pressed the ridge of his hard cock against my clit.
“Do you need me to—” I motioned to the sizable issue in his shorts.
His smirk had me conflicted.
“No. Let me have something to look forward to.”
As he climbed off me, air grazed my exposed flesh, a reminder of how bare I was to the radiant sky.
As I dressed, he went back behind the wheel to start up the engine.
As the water behind us frothed like churned milk, less than a minute later, he hit the throttle, and we headed back to the port.
We moved from the wide expanse of Puget Sound to the narrower passages between land. On our left was the town of Illahee and to our right, the posh island of Manzanita, home of millionaires, California transplants, and—if rumors are to be believed—the summer homes of members of the rock band Prevalent Notion.
Van motioned for me to join him at the front, letting go of the wheel. His hand on my waist, he positioned me behind it.
“Have you ever driven a boat before?”
I shook my head.
As a child, my father and my uncle Victor would go out crabbing with my older boy cousins, while Autumn and I got left behind. The urge to drive a boat, even a little cuddy cabin like this one, never occurred to me. But I had to admit it was a rush to grasp the wheel and cut through the water, the sizzling heat cooling in the rush of salty air over my face.
He rested his hands on my hips, pulling my ass into his still-hard cock. As we sliced through the blue-green waves, his mouth trailed to my ear, telling me all the dirty things he wanted to do to me back at his house.
He moved to the front of my unbuttoned shorts, playing with the seam of my bottoms. “Could you keep the boat straight while I touch you here?”
My grip tightened as he eased one finger inside me, then another. His thumb traced over my clit.
Still sensitive from the orgasm, I felt the tension coiling from the slightest touch.
Leaning back against him, I let my eyes drift shut.
His hard cock rubbed against my ass as his fingers moved in and out, taking me closer to another climax.
Across the waterway, another boat passed but was too far away, but the knowledge that other people were out on the water while Van was knuckle-deep inside me thrilled me.
If I had known how to cut the engine, I would have done so, turned on my feet, and sat him in that pilot’s chair to ride him—condom or not.
I pulled his hand out of my suit and placed it on the steering wheel. Turning my body to face him, I made sure his arms were on each side of me.
I’m short enough. He could see over my head.
“Keep your hands on the steering wheel,” I ordered.
“What are y—”
Sliding down his stomach, I moved down to his cock. I palmed it, gripping it under the thin fabric.
“I don’t think—fuck.”
When his hand fell from the wheel, I tutted at him. “Hand on the wheel, Hot Rod. I’ve got you.”
Grabbing the front of his shorts, I pulled his cock free and kept my eyes on him as I spit into my hand.
The tendons in his arm tensed as he cursed under his breath.
I slid my hand up and down, gripping tight.
He tilted his head down to watch my motion.
I shook my head, pausing. “Eyes on the water. Keep us straight, and I’ll keep going.”
Tightening one hand, I used the other to cup his balls, my short nails running along the area behind them.
His arms were a barricade around me as I stroked him, faster and faster. Soon after, he cursed and came, the substance spurting over our stomachs.
Sticky on me, it dripped down my torso, and I brought a little up to my mouth, licking it off my finger.
With one hand, he slowed the boat, while still keeping us straight, his eyes molten on me.
“You’re going to kill me,” he whispered.
“But what a way to go, right?”
He let out a low, derisive chuckle. “I have never met someone so dangerous for me.”
I smirked at him. “Good. I’d hate to be boring.”
The familiar skyline of downtown Ridgewood approached as we came into Freedom Bay.
“The things I’m going to do to you tonight. You’re going to wish you never tempted me.”
“Is that a challenge?” I crooked a brow.
“It’s a promise. And remember what I said. We don’t lie to each other .”
In the small cupholder beside the seat, an odd chirping rang from his phone.
He dropped his playful expression and the hand that was holding me between the wheel and his body.
A message that read I need you flashed in my vision, but I couldn’t see anything else on it.
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his once molten gaze cooled.
“Change of plans.” He tossed his phone back in the cupholder and turned the boat toward the marina.