Before I can object to his outright vanity, he snakes an arm around my waist and draws me to him. Clinking his glass to mine, he then whispers, “I’ve got nothing on you. Looking at you is like looking at the sun, Caroline May. Everyone looking my way is only looking because they want to know what it is about me that made you fall.” Staring wide-eyed at his mouth, I’m aghast at what he’s insinuating and gutted at the same time because he’s absolutely right. Not about me being the sun, no, that can’t be true, that’s a line, but I am falling for him. I let him hold me in this moment, staring into his mirthful eyes as some ’80s pop song echoes a synthesizer chorus around the small room. “You don’t have to admit it now. But I know,” Tahoe drawls. “Cheers,” he adds, “to our first official date.”
I swallow down the bitter beer taste and let his words float around a second or two before I come back to reality. Never in my life have I wanted to kill someone and kiss them at the same time. It’s a deliciously volatile feeling. Floating. Falling. Fretting. I take a sip of beer, but I don’t taste anything. My body is warming—the heat from hisskin melting into me. My face heats, and even though I’d love to correct him and tell him this is our only date, I know for a fact that would be a lie. At this point, I’d do anything he says. Because I want him.
I want him.The admission feels odd and right at the same time.
He releases me, leaving my stomach bereft and cold. The hand holding my beer shakes a little, and I have to make a concerted effort to still it. Tahoe notices—his eyes dropping to my hand and then skimming the rest of my body. A throaty noise lets me know his obvious appraisal is satisfactory. Desire floods between my legs from a solitary noise.
Malena and Britt bound up to us, and it takes all of my strength to muster the ability to say hello. Malena introduces Britt to Tahoe, and I smile, wondering how Tahoe can turn it off and on so quickly when I’m trying not to quake with every emotion he’s invoking. The small talk seems so trivial compared to what’s happening inside my body and mind. Like I should be sitting alone, sifting through what everything means instead of talking about the approaching hurricane season. My heart is a hurricane. My body is an unloved temple seeking refuge with a man I wouldn’t know how to handle.
Tahoe’s laugh breaks me from my horrendous, thrilling thoughts. It’s also the same moment I see Whit approaching.
“You gonna introduce me to your friend, Caroline?” Whit asks, the hint of drunken stupor tripping up his vowels. His gaze finds Malena as she appraises Tahoe with all the reverence of Christ on a cross. My heartstarts racing.
Tahoe tilts his head to the side. “Whit, right? I’ve heard so much about you,” Tahoe croons, lips pressed together as he threatens everyone with a look. He looks at me conspiringly and then back to the drunken has-been.
Whit runs a hand through his long red hair once and then again. It’s a tell. He’s agitated. I hate that I know that fact about him. The negatives of living in a small town. Whit spits out a compliment about Malena because he assumes she’s been talking about him. He has no clue Tahoe knows all about him because I told him dirty secrets.
“Congratulations, Whitney,” I say, breaking the awkward silence. “You too, Brittney. We all knew you guys would end up together.” I smile, hoping it looks genuine. Malena rolls her eyes. Tahoe covers a laugh with a cough.
Whit narrows his eyes at Tahoe, and I drain the rest of my beer.
“Looks like congrats are in order for you too, Caroline,” Britt replies, eyes flicking back to Tahoe’s midsection. Her words are hollow. After a couple decades of deciphering the almost imperceptible undertones of small-town gossip, I hear the empty snark for what it really is. Jealousy.
Tahoe hears it too. He wraps an arm around my shoulders. “She’s pretty awesome, isn’t she? Landing the biggest contract this town has ever seen. Building and finishing her loft apartment on her own. You should see that thing. It’s beautiful. I’m telling you, it could be ina magazine,” he explains, waving his free palm in front of him, like he’s painting an invisible picture for them. I smile, because what else can I do in this moment? A moment he’s saving me from so gracefully, andmildly, even I have to acknowledge his non-effort.
“Stop it, you’re making me blush. You helped me,” I quip. “Gave it that manly flair,” I tease.
Tahoe brushes my compliment aside and continues on. “You should have a housewarming party,” he gushes. “You guys would come, right?” The horrified look on my face must stoke their curiosity because not only do they agree, they are voracious in their agreement, Malena even offering to help me plan it.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Tahoe,” I say. “We can talk about it later.”
“Nonsense. It’s a great idea. Everyone wants to see what you do up there…I mean, see your new house,” Britt says, staring at Tahoe. “Right, Whit?” she adds on as an afterthought, grabbing his elbow.
“Yeah. I’d love to see it. Coming here and snapping up all the prime real estate,” Whit mumbles, slinking back to the bar for a refill without as much as a nod.
Britt brushes him off, giggling nervously. “You’ll be there?” she asks Tahoe.
Malena even looks uncomfortable, shifting from one foot and looking off to the side. Tahoe laughs, all white shark teeth and astonishment. I shrink into myself a little more. Britt is proving why a relationship with Tahoe would never work. He’s out of my league, and it’s obvious to everyone around us. Why do I care?
“I’ll be there.Caroline can’t keep me away. Right, Sunny?” Tahoe asks. It takes a second for me to realize he’s referring to me.
I let the nickname breeze past in lieu of ambivalence. “Sure, yeah. Why not? This is all your idea,” I reply, handing my empty to Tahoe, which he grabs, eyes narrowed, curious about my attitude. Social gatherings aren’t my thing. Ones where I’m the sole focus are of the variety that haunt my nightmares. He has to know me enough to surmise it. Some sleuthing SEAL he’s turning out to be.
Whit returns with a new beer that Britt eyes down with unmasked hatred. He ignores Tahoe in favor of looking at me. With beady eyes, Whit bops his head to the new tune. “Crick’s Beach and now the airport, huh, Caroline? Didn’t take you for that kind.”
Neither did I. Wouldn’t have dreamed it up in a million years. Me, entertaining the thought of a relationship with someone who doesn’t know every sordid detail of my entire life. That’s not the way it works around here.
Britt and Malena speak quietly to avoid Whit’s accusation. “Maybe that’s what it takes,” Whit adds. That statement is why I dreaded walking into this place.
When I don’t respond, Tahoe does. “Everyone loves fresh blood, man. Lighten up. Not like I’m stealing your girl. She’s all yours. Forever,” he says, his words dripping with sarcasm.
The glowing smile Britt has worn since spotting Tahoe vanishes in an instant. It’s probably the opposite of what you’d expect from a newly engaged woman. Whit gets to watch as she seethes in irritation sodeep it’s written all over her body. I could kiss him for this—for exposing their false love. Without thinking, I grab his hand and lace my fingers between his. My hand gets lost in his sheer size, and my body shudders at the immediate warmth. It takes several awkward seconds before she realizes Whit is watching her—judging her reaction, scorned in his masculinity in the presence of such a fine example.
Slowly, Tahoe leans over and grabs Whit by the shoulder. Never has he looked larger than life than in this moment. “Congrats again, man. You lucked out,” he says, voice gravelly. Before he leans away, he flicks his gaze to a horrified Britt. “I wish you an eternity of happiness.” The wish sounds like a threat. My heart is racing because no one talks to them like that, no one calls them out on the lies so effectively. Tahoe even did it the Southern, subtle way.
“Caroline May!” My name is screamed in a high-pitched shrill. Bless that girl. Shirley. She bounds to us, breaking the circle of awkwardness. It takes her less than two seconds to assess the atmosphere. “Don’t tell me,” Shirley drawls, “Whitney has his panties in a bunch because this fine-ass specimen got into Caroline’s panties before he did?” Shirley runs her hands, spirit fingers and all, up and down in front of Tahoe’s body. I stifle a laugh. Malena, finding a comrade in her appreciation for what isn’t hers, nods in agreement. Britt flips her hair over one shoulder while looking annoyed.
Shirley clears her throat when no one addresses her statement. “Oh, yeah. Congrats, guys. It was a slow weekat the diner.” She shoves a white envelope into Britt’s hand and then turns to me. “You’re drinking right? Let’s go grab a drink. Gaston will let you out of his grip, yeah?” Tahoe squeezes my hand, and the nervous energy in my body morphs into a warmness stemming from where his skin touches mine.
