“I wouldn’t say half.” His green eyes take on a cocky glint. “But I can’t promise I won’t bring someone home.”
That stings too.
Damn it.
It shouldn’t sting.
“How scandalous,” I say sarcastically.
“Also can’t promise we’ll stay in my room…”
“My room, you mean. The blue room is mine.” I raise a brow when his words register. “So, what, you’re saying I can expect to come down to the dock at night and find some random townie blowing you?”
“Maybe. I do enjoy a nice dock blowjob.”
I can’t stop the unwitting image that enters my head. Wyatt undoing his pants and pulling out his cock. Guiding it inside a warm, willing mouth.
Mywarm, willing mouth.
“If you’re good, I might even let you watch,” he says blithely.
My mouth goes entirely dry. I try to swallow, but it feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls.
This man is such an annoying contradiction. He can go from veiled and mysterious to an incorrigible flirt in the blink of an eye. And you never, ever know which version of him you’re going to get. I’ve seen him turn up the charm with Gigi’s friends, with Alex, with random women on the street. He lures them in with those heavy-lidded, seductive eyes until their clothes melt off, and then—bam. He shuts down. Eyes shuttered, flashing that enigmatic smile. The one that warns you,don’t dig too deep, you won’t like what you find.
I’ve always been drawn to that careless smile and all the secrets it holds. It calls at something inside me.
I finally find my voice. “If you’re trying to scare me away, it won’twork. I’m not leaving. This ismysummer, not yours.”
“You can’t just claim ‘summer.’ It belongs to all of us. But if you’re determined to stay, then I guess we just do our best to leave each other alone.”
“Perfect. You can sit on the dock and write your depressing songs—”
“And you can lick your wounds,” he finishes.
“I’m not licking my wounds. I’m regrouping,” I say, mimicking his phrase from last night. “Anyway, great. That’s settled. Now where are the keys to the bowrider? They’re not where they usually are.”
“Oh, I’ve got them here. Why?”
“Because I’m taking the boat out.”
“Like hell you are.”
“I know how to drive a boat.” We’ve all had our boating licenses since we were twelve. It’s the first thing our parents made us do once we started coming to Tahoe.
“Look,” he says firmly, “I’m not taking the babysitting duties seriously, no matter how much Logan threatens me. But your parents would actually kill me if I let you drive the boat on your own. What if it capsizes?”
“Why would it capsize?” I sputter.
“I don’t know. What if a rogue wave hits?”
“A rogue wave in Lake Tahoe?”
“Or you run out of gas—”
“Then I’ll call you. There’s a signal on this lake. It’s not like I’m going off the grid.”
Gritting his teeth, Wyatt slides off the lounge chair, holding his guitar by its neck. “Fucking fine. Whatever. If you insist on taking the boat out, then I’m coming with you.”
