Not once in my life have I been more appreciative of my best friend’s insane, straightforward personality. “Beer. I’m drinking beer. Let’s go to the bar.” She snakes an arm around my waist, and the rest of the group moves on, leaving Tahoe alone. “Thank God you showed when you did.”
She skips once, pleased with herself for her social torment. “They’re a mess. Notice neither denied it. Whit has wanted you since the moment you were born.”
“That’s disgusting, Shirley.”
Shrugging, she says, “He’s a gross dude. I don’t know what to tell you.”
I lean into her ear. “He asked me to be his girlfriend. Says he’s ready for something more. I don’t know what to think. I told him he could rent air space and equipment, so I gave him what he wanted, and he’s still here.” I swallow down the fear of the unknown. Somehow, I know if I agree to take on Tyler Holiday in a relationship capacity, everything will change, and probably not for the good.
Shirley catcalls. “I fucking knew it. This is your reward for being a social recluse all of your life. You get to have that.” She eyes Tahoe over my shoulder. “He’s checking out your ass right now.”
Whit grumbles under his breath as he takes anotherdrink off the wet bar top and retreats to his friends. Shirley orders our drinks, flirting with the bartender because that’s her protocol, and passes me another foamy beer without turning around. Some of the amber liquid splashes on my neck and chest before I can sip, and I wipe at it with my bare hand, managing to make more skin stink like dirty brew. It’s crowded now that the sun has disappeared and folks are out of work for the weekend. I tap Shirley to thank her and make my way back to Tahoe.
A few people stop me to chat, but I can’t help but seek him out in the crowd as I make small talk. Most are curious about the airport and have heard the news I was taking it over. He watches me, like he’s studying me. I wonder if he regrets what he said earlier, if he’s deciding I’m not worth the trouble, and whether he should stick to his status quo. Malena would give him what he wants, and so would a number of other girls. He knows I’m more…complicated, though. I’m giving myself a pep talk when Shirley comes up next to me and links arms. She’s not done telling me what I should think yet. I never get away that easily.
“Have you told him?” she asks. It could mean a thousand things, but without saying a word, I know which question she’s asking because of how he’s watching me—undressing me.
Tahoe drains his beer without taking his eyes off me. Bringing the glass down, he licks his lips. I shudder as heat overtakes my whole body. “I’m blushing right now, aren’t I?” I pant out. “Of course I haven’t told him. It’snot like that,” I amend. “It hasn’t been like that.”
“Don’t. I wouldn’t. You should lie,” she says, patting me on my ass as she scuttles away to tackle Caleb in a hug. It’s probably sound advice, with the only problem being I cannot lie. Not for all the tea in China. My poker face looks like a scared cat after being dipped in water. Something tells me a man like Tahoe, a SEAL, will call me out on any lie I try to concoct. One watching me as closely as this one right now? Game over. It will only be a matter of time before he knows the truth about me. He’ll have all of my dirty secrets in the palm of his hand, just like every other person in this bar. The beers have mellowed my mood, but my stomach is flipping wildly with the unmade decision looming in front of me. He’s a breathing masterpiece of masculinity and an untouchable quality that leaves me lightheaded.
When I’m close enough to touch, he runs his knuckles down the side of my face—a featherlight touch that seems impossible given the size of his hand. “Head back to your place and hang that fixture?” Tahoe says, leaning forward so he can be heard over the new, louder music blasting around us. “If you want.” It feels like a loaded statement. Does agreeing to this mean I’m agreeing to everything? I take another sip of my beer the second he brings his hand away from my face. Breathing is hard. Focusing is hard. Everything onhisbody ishard. Sure, I’ve had crushes on men before, but the crackling between my body and Tahoe’s feels like being squeezed to death without care of the outcome.
When I don’t respond, he goes on, “What are youthinking about right now?”
Shaking my head, I remember myself, and decide honesty is best. “How my friends want you. Even the ones that aren’t supposed to want you,” I say, taking another sip of beer. “How I want you and I know I’m not supposed to.”
Tahoe smirks. “Go on,” he prods. “You’re not done yet.”
Shaking my head once again, I guzzle the rest and slide the mug onto a high top next to us. “I’m thinking it’s a bad idea—wait, scratch that—a horrible idea for me to get entangled with you. You’re going to be working at my airport. What happens when it doesn’t work out? I have to look at you,” I say, waving my hand down his body. “I’ve seen the muscles under those clothes. You’re enormous.” His grin widens—eyes dancing across my face in complete amusement. “I’m also thinking I have no idea how to be a girlfriend. Your girlfriend. I’m kind of hoping you were joking about that back in the truck. Are you asking to hang the lighting fixture, or are you asking tohang my lighting fixture? I need you to be upfront with me because I’m bad at this.” Covering my face with both hands, I let the mortification seep in, then peek around briefly to see who is around. “I can’t shut up. This is horrible.”
“No one heard your tirade,” Tahoe assures, narrowing his eyes. “Though, take heart. No one knows how to be my girlfriend, Caroline. I’ll let you define how to do that,” he says, one dimple rippling next to his smile. “If you’re interested in the gig.”
Looking off to the side to avoid the power of his gaze, I blow out a breath. “And the lighting fixture?” I ask, furrowing my brow.
Tahoe laughs. “Needs to be hung?” he asks.
It does. My god, does it ever. “You realize how intimidating it is being in your proximity, right?” I ask. Shaking my head, I say, “I’m glad you used it earlier with Whit, but turn it down a little right now, okay?” I think about the first time I saw him. How I pegged him for a man I wouldn’t approach if my mama’s life was on the line.
Tahoe rests his hands on my shoulders. “You’ll get used to it,” he says, lips wet and shining. I swallow hard. His hands slide from my shoulders, down my arms.
Shirley clears her throat next to me. “Don’t mind me. I’m just living vicariously through you,” she says. “He’s touching you.”
Tahoe drops his hands and pulls me to his side. “I’d like to touch more of her, but we’re sitting here talking about hanging light fixtures,” he says to my friend, squeezing me a little bit harder for a second or two.
“Shirley, don’t be so insane, please. I thought you were hanging out with Caleb tonight,” I edge, trying to change the subject.
She shrugs. “He’s over there talking to Malena. You know when she gets her claws out, he has no choice but to reminisce with her.” Caleb and Malena have had a few passion-fueled nights in the past. “Plus, everyone is talking about how Hulk was a jerk to Whit, and that’s way more interesting.”
“He wasn’t a jerk,” I exclaim. “I mean, not really, anyway. Whit is incorrigible,” I hiss. High school drama as adults is one of the things I wouldn’t miss about this place.
Shirley takes this opportunity to tell Tahoe about Whit’s permanent crush on me throughout high school and beyond. On one of his breaks from Britt, he pursued me so hard I was confident Britt was going to find out and have her posse pummel my face into pulp. I almost gave in just so Whit would leave me alone. Luckily one of the other wallflowers in our graduating class ended up fooling around with him every Wednesday behind the greenhouse, and he seemed to forget about me for the moment. Anytime I had a date to a school event, Whit made it clear he wasn’t happy. It was like I was choosing someone else over him, and that’s something he’s not okay with. I saw it tonight. At his own engagement party. Shirley had it right, and everyone knew it.
“Whit wants the wrong things,” Tahoe says, breaking up the lull in conversation.
Shirley harrumphs. “You got that right. Maybe once they get married they’ll keep their evil contained in the confines of their marriage,” Shirley muses. “Wishful thinking, though. I’m sure he’s in the bathroom getting blown by Britt’s best friend right now.”
“This town is far more scandalous than anyone lets on,” he replies, amused by my friend’s musings.
