Chapter 20
Closing my eyes to the midday sun, my body drops like a stone to the bottom of the saltwater pool. Submerged under the water, all sounds are muffled until the only thing I can hear is nothing but my own heartbeat. I can usually last about three minutes before the need to breathe forces me back to the surface. But I take those three minutes of peace, needing them to refocus my thoughts and clear my head of the problem that is Douglass.
I want her. I shouldn’t. I should leave her alone. A better man would. But I’m not a better man. I’m selfish. She’s the first woman who has made me feelanythingafter years of nothing. And I want more. My relentless dick agrees. I’ve fucked my fist to images of Douglass over the past couple of days more than I care to admit. Some of those images are of her as she is now—sassy, hot-tempered, and so damn gorgeous, even when she’s shutting me down and throwing fuck-you eyes at me. Some images are just fleeting glimpses of the night I can’t fully remember. But my damn cock does because it gets hard as steel in an instant when those forgotten memories try to resurface.
My lungs begin to burn and demand oxygen, but I hold on just a few seconds more before rising. When fresh air hits my face, I float on my back and gulp it in.
An arc of water splashes me, and I squint one eye open to find Mike standing at the edge of the pool.
“Nice of you to return my calls and texts, asshole,” he says, taking off his shoes and socks and sitting down to dangle his legs in the water.
I hadn’t spoken to him since our talk in the back lot at Mickey’s because I’m still pissed. I don’t give a shit that he says he made a promise to Douglass. He’s my best friend, and he’s kept that secret from me for years. He’sstillkeeping it from me because he refuses to tell me what happened, and Douglass is locked up tighter than Fort Knox about it.
“Didn’t return them because you’re still on my shit list,” I reply, closing my eyes to the intensity of the sun shining down on me.
The saltwater eases some of the tension in my muscles and buoys my body like a goose-down pillow. Unfortunately, it’s hell on the pool equipment. The sodium chloride tends to damage the underwater light fixtures as well as the masonry and requires a specialized technician I have to call in from three counties over to do the repairs, but it’s so worth it.
“Come on, Jordan. I know you’re upset, but damn man, can you put yourself in my shoes and see things from my perspective? Have you ever broken a promise to someone in your life?”
I shield my eyes and glance over at him. “No.”
He kicks water at me. “Then give me a fucking break.”
Okay, he has a fair point. Still mad, though. I flip over onto my stomach and swim the length of the pool and back before coming up beside him and propping my crossed arms on the lip of the pool. The water droplets cool as they drip down my face and neck, reminding me it’s still February and summer is months away. Good thing the pool is heated. I wonder if Douglass likes to swim.
And like every other time I think about her, my dick perks up at the thought of a slippery Douglass in my arms, her long legs around my waist, and me pushing her up against the wall of the pool.
“Did you at least talk to her?”
Resting my chin on my forearms, I reply, “Yeah.”
He thwacks my ear with a flick of his middle finger. “What did she say?” he asks impatiently.
“Ow, quit it.” I shove his hand away when he tries for a second time. “She was as forthcoming as you were, which means she told me zilch.”
Propping back on his elbows, he hums in contemplation and swishes his feet through the water a few times. “She will. Give her time.”
Using my arms, I push up on the ledge and pull myself out of the pool. “I plan to.”
Reaching for the oversized towel I left out, I do a quick-dry before wrapping it around my shoulders and parking my ass in the closest lounge chair.
Mike lifts to his feet and walks over to sit next to me.
I love the view of Mom’s rose garden from the pool. The deck area sits on the west slope of the property and overlooks the courtyard garden and the fountain. Once spring arrives and things start to bloom, it’s a sight to behold.
Reaching for my phone that’s lying on the low deck table beside my chair, I type out a food and drink order to send Daniella.
Before I hit send, I look up from my phone. “Want anything?”
“Whatever soda is fine,” he replies and tucks his knees up to his chest, his arms circling around them as he peers off into the distance.
Daniella replies with an immediate thumbs up once I hit send. She’s been working for me for the past two years and helps with running the day-to-day operations of the house. I met her in AA, and we just clicked. Never anything romantic. She’s like a second Harper, another little sister. She lost her fiancé to an IED in Afghanistan a few years ago, and like me, used alcohol to numb the pain. We both keep the other in line and on the straight and narrow.
I peer over at Mike. I think she’d be perfect for him if he’d ever get his head out of his ass and ask her out. She’s not his typical type—busty brunette. Daniella has a slender build, short-cropped blonde hair and a pixie, girl-next-door face. But she is strong and resilient and full of sass like Douglass. And funny. Her acerbic wit has a way of making me laugh on days when I feel there isn’t much to find humor in.
“What brings you by, other than to nag me about answering my phone?”
Mike steeples his middle fingers under his chin, giving me a casual FU. “First, I don’t like the cold shoulder crap. We’re not in high school anymore. If you’re mad at me, tell me so we can yell and punch it out like grown-ups.”
