"Aw, fuck," I said, groaning. With a hand between my legs, I rubbed away the ache. I couldn't erase the fantasy behind my eyes—and the reality of it down the hall—but it helped. Closing my eyes, I pushed a breath past my lips and imagined Cole's hand caressingme.
"Hey. Are you okay,Bartlett?"
My eyes popped open and I put both hands up. "What?" I snapped, staring at him on the other side of the kitchen. "What do you want,McClish?"
"Whenever you're ready," Cole started slowly, "we cango."
"I'm ready," Ireplied.
I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready for any ofthis.
11
Watching
v. When a fisherman's buoys are visible on the surface of the water due to a slacktide.
Owen
"What isthe difference between baked stuffed lobster and the lazy man's lobster?" Cole asked, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "You know, this is like ethnographic research. I should be takingnotes."
"I'm sure California is dying to know all about the way real Mainers live," Ireplied.
"I'm sure of it," he murmured. "Foodie blog post waiting to happen." He snapped his fingers and pointed at the menu. "No vegetarian fishermen welcome here unless they're willing to settle on a side salad. Can't imagine that would satisfyyou."
Cole's eyebrow arched up as he spoke and it didn't matter what he was saying because I only wanted to grab him by the neck and kiss him. All I heard wassatisfy, and that wasit.
"It's just a bowlful of chopped iceberg," I said through clenched teeth. "A slice of cucumber. Maybe a chunk oftomato."
"Like I said, that wouldn't do much for you," he replied, gesturing toward me. "You're not a side saladguy."
I met his gaze and held it for a long, challenging beat. I didn't give up so much as ablink.
"Probably not," I finally conceded. "Neither areyou."
He leaned back against the booth, slowly nodding as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I see you've finally figured that out," he murmured. "Good."
What the fuck are we talking about right now?The air around us was incendiary, and nothing else existed. Not the buzzing tavern, not my issues, not his impending departure. It was just us and all the tension in theworld.
And I couldn't handle it. I couldn't sit here and go round after confusing round with this guy when all I wanted was to feel his skin undermine.
"The lazy man's lobster is a regular steamed lobster, but the meat has been removed from the shell. It's lazy because you don't have to crack the shell to eat it," I said, all the words rushing out in a burst. "The baked stuffed is in the shell and stuffed with breadcrumbs." I spared him a quick glance and went back to my menu. "You'd like the swordfish. Getthat."
"Would you repeat that?" he asked. "I need to write this down. I'm going to take this concept back to Silicon Valley and find someone to open a seafood restaurant with ninety-four different lobster preparations. Poke bowls are out, Maine lobster is in." He nodded several times. "I'll make a killing on it, but first you need to explain the rest of this menu to me. What in the world is asteamer?"
"It's a clam. One that's been steamed," I said. "No morequestions."
"I'll hire you as my crustacean expert," he said. "Give you a cut of theprofits."
"No morequestions."
"I'll call it the Owen Bartlett House of Lobster," hecontinued.
"No, youwon't."
"I will," he said. "I will and you'll be famous. Everyone will want to know the true story of this legendary lobsterman and I'll have to tell them about Talbott's Cove. You'll have reporters camped outside your house and sailing into yourcove."
I rolled my eyes. "You're not supposed to threaten yourdate."
