All three look at me like they’re about to roast-spit me.
Selkie says, “Get at it, both of you.” Then she stomps up to me, stopping a foot away. “I said we were not going to do that. You may not talk to me like a child.”
“Then stop acting like a fucking child.”
She brings her fist up and tries to punch me, but I grab her wrist and slam her against my chest. “No wonder your daughter thinks violence is the solution to her problems.”
My head spins. She smells clean and airy and her heat against my body reminds me how long it’s been since I was with a woman. But this woman. What the fuck?
“Let go of me, you prick,” she says as she struggles.
I look down at her as something sparks. Sure lust, but more than that. Want like I haven’t felt since Chloe. I almost kiss her, then fortunately, Henri interrupts my stupidity. “What are you doing to my mom?”
Selkie jerks out of my grip. “Nothing. He was doing nothing. Get back to work.” Her face is flushed and her eyes are wild, like a trapped animal.
Guilt hammers at me. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I was out of line. But you can’t take a shot at me like that. Not with my lifestyle. I react without thinking. It’s why I’m still alive.”
She takes a few steps back. “You won’t live long if you touch me again.” Then she twists away and heads towards the cooler.
I follow her because for some fucking reason I want to understand her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
She slaps a beer into my hand. “The problem is you have a dick, which makes you think you’re in control of every woman you come across.”
“I’m not that guy,” I say, wondering why I feel the need to defend myself and at the same time acknowledging that she’s probably right. I’ve created an unapproachable persona that no one can bridge unless I let them. That makes me controlling.
“Every guy’s that guy.” She pops the top on her can and takes a guzzle, then wipes her lips with the back of her hand. “Let me count the ways.”
“Don’t,” I reply, which proves her point. “I’m not interested in you listing all your insecurities.”
“And I’m not interested in a peeing contest.”
“You’d lose,” I state bluntly.
“See, right there. You and your dick think you’re fucking masters of the universe.”
I’m starting to realize that she has to have the last word. I can’t win at that game, so I turn my back and walk away. Evanee says it’s a good way for training dogs who snap and bite.
“Sure, walk away, you fuck.”
I turn back and scrutinize her. Her tone is less hostile and more hurt. Her eyes are bright as she spins around and grabs a folding beach chair, then stomps to the truck where she sets it up in the shade.
Chapter Six
Selkie
Nightmares do happen when you’re awake.
I’m sitting in a beach chair in the shade of Brody’s truck, beer in hand, legs outstretched in front of me, watching the battle of wills between Oscar and Henri. They’re keeping their voices low so that we can’t hear them, but clearly by the expressions on their faces, they are a long way from becoming besties.
Mr. Meanie and I’ve silently called a truce. He’s next to me, sitting upright in a lawn chair, beer in one hand, watching our adorables as they play tug-of-war with a tent. “They’re gonna starve to death before they get the camp set up,” he observes. “That’ll solve the problem.” He takes a swig of beer as Oscar grabs the canvas and wraps it around Henri, making her lose her balance. “Oscar never acts like that,” he mutters. “Your kid’s makin’ him crazy.”
I don’t respond for two reasons. First, he’s right about Henri. And second, it’s unnerving having Brody so close to me. His scent makes my nostrils flare. He smells like pure male. Not the unwashed sweaty kind, but the musky, masculine aroma that makes the pit of my stomach handspring around. I take a deep breath to steady myself.
Wanting to have sex with him is one thing, but the attraction is more than that. He challenges me at every turn, takes my shit and gives it back. His intense stare reaches inside me and breaks down my defenses.
Not good. I’ve made promises to myself that I need to keep. Like letting go of my dream of happy-ever-after. That means no man’s allowed inside my heart. The ones I’ve let in try to bend me to their will. They like me at first, but after a few weeks, try to tame me. When they realize they can’t, they blame me for their shortcomings and run like they’re competing for gold in the 400-meter sprint.
It hurts, not the leaving part, but the blame part. It makes me feel insecure. And it’s not good for Henri either. She sees the failures of my relationships and takes it personally. In solidarity, she too hates men.
