He grabs me in a bear hug, lifting me off the ground as he brings me in closer. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers into my ear. He inhales deeply, and I can actually feel the relief wash over him.
“Don’t be so busy at work then. I missed you, too. Did you get those tickets?” He was trying to get tickets to seeWickedwhile we’re in NYC when he called earlier today.
Pulling away, he grins. “I did. I can’t wait to see it with you,” he says. “How was your day?” He carries me through the entrance and sets my feet down on the stairs leading up to my house.
We walk up together as I tell him first about my boring shift at the diner and then working on an engine when I got to the airport this afternoon. He closes the door behind us, still keeping the sunglasses on his face. When he notices me studying him, he tells me about the work he’s getting done on his house, and the contact I gave him for the appliance man worked out great. He was able to snag top-of-the-line kitchen appliances for next to nothing. He’s using distraction. “Hey, uh, you wear your sunglasses at night?” I sing, moving my shoulders.
“It’s afternoon,” he counters. “I have something to tell you,” he explains, moving his hands by his sides. “Orshow you rather.” He clenches and unclenches his fists.
My heart starts hammering because this disposition is something I’ve never seen portrayed before. Not on him, anyway. His shoulders slump, and his chin tucks into his chest. He’s sad. He has the sunglasses on because he’s been crying. That must be it. Which probably means something horrible happened. Someone died. And here I am asking about Broadway tickets like some jerk.
“Oh, god. Just tell me now. Spit it out,” I say.
“Sit down.”
I follow his directions and put my hands on top of my knees. He sits next to me but leans his back against the arm of the sofa so he’s facing me front-on. “You’re scaring me,” I tell him, voice wavering. “Are you okay? Is everyone else okay?”
He clears his throat. “I’m fine. Everyone is fine. There’s, ah, nothing to be scared about,” he says. “I had a little bit of a diving accident when we went out on the boat. Fishing, remember?”
I look over his body up and down, at all of the exposed skin, looking for some kind of wound. “I remember. And?” My voice quavers with unease.
“And I didn’t clear my mask while diving deep. Essentially, the best way to put it is I got a hickey on my eyeballs,” he says, taking off the sunglasses, keeping his eyes closed. “It’s called a mask squeeze, and it will take a long time to go away,” he explains, and then his thick lashes flutter up.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.I jump back and cover my mouth. “Have you seen a doctor?” I wail behind my hand. It’s that bad. His blue eyes are in stark contrast next to the deep maroon color that used to be the whites of his eyes. “Doctor,” I say one more time, trying to swallow down my fear. He said he was okay. Said that it would go away on its own.
Tahoe winces. “That bad, huh?”
“You knew it was that bad!” I reply. Leaning in, I get a better look and then wish I didn’t. He closes his eyes.
“I’m an idiot. It happens to inexperienced divers a lot. I did see the doc, and the only tincture for my stupidity is time.”
I nod. “Okay. Okay,” I say again. “I can get used to it.”
“You can date a character fromDungeons & Dragons?” he asks. I make the mistake of looking at his eyes a touch longer than I should, so he shuts them.
“You’re not my boyfriend because of the scleral sections of your eyeballs, Tyler Holiday.”
My statement garners a laugh, but he slides his sunglasses back over his eyes. “You don’t have to wear those. Don’t be silly.” Even as I say it, I’m relieved I don’t have to look or not look. It’s awkward either way.
“Why were you diving deep anyway? Weren’t you fishing? I didn’t realize spearfishing involves depth diving.”
He swallows. “I was trying to see how far down I could get. Beat my best depth,” he explains, using his hands to talk.
I quirk one brow and look off to the side. “Sometimes you’re so predictable, and then other times it’s like you’re a wild card. You probably almost die on a regular basis doing your job, and then do stupid stuff like that during your off hours? Seems ludicrous.”
Sighing, he takes my hands in his. “I’d take it back if I could. I’ll never hear the end of it. Leif and Aidan will bust my balls all night long.”
Having all of his teammates mingling with the Bronze Bay crowd is going to be weird. They’re trying to integrate themselves into the community, and it must be working on some level. I had to call Malena to ask her if she was coming to The Spot tonight. Of course, like always, she is, but she also wanted to cash in the housewarming party planning chip. I nailed down a date a few months away. She whined, but I stood firm—said I was busy until then, and if she wanted to help me, she would have to wait. I don’t relish having anyone in my world. Except Tahoe.
He’s the exception. The scary-at-the-moment exception.
Tahoe runs his rough, calloused palm over my bare thigh and up to the hem of my dress. A dress I chose very carefully after standing in front of my closet longer than I ever have before. In the Florida heat, it’s shorts and a tank or a sundress. Worrying about impressing anyone else with my clothing wasn’t even on the radar. I want him to want me like I want him. The black dress is cut high on the hem and low on the bust, breaking one of thecardinal rules of dress wearing. Typically you can only have one. Your boobs hanging out, or your ass. Both? Dig your societal grave.
He leans forward, intent on kissing me, but stops halfway. “I can take the sunglasses off if you want,” he says. I try to pick out his eyes behind the black lenses and can barely make them out.
“Whatever you want.” I place my hand on his, the one on my leg, and drag it up further.
His low, gruff chuckle floods me with desire. His fingers take over now that he knows exactly what I want, what I’ve been thinking about since the last time his fingers were on me. My skin heats, and butterflies flutter in my stomach.
