“Of course.” I follow her into the bathroom, and as she turns on the water and steps into the shower, I grab a fresh towel from the shelf under the vanity and put it in on sink for her. I walk back into the bedroom and wait for her. I decide now isn’t the time to lay my shit at her feet. She’s about to get what could be really bad news about her dad. My drama can wait until she’s dealt with that, so she doesn’t feel overwhelmed. When she emerges ten minutes later, the towel is wrapped around her. She starts getting dressed. She looks good getting ready in my space, and I hope I get to see it happening again…a lot. But now is not the time to bring that up.
“Shit. I have to get to practice,” I say with remorse. “I want to drop you off at the hospital but I’ll be late.”
“It’s fine. I’ll get a Lyft,” she explains, and as she steps out of the bathroom she rocks up on her toes to give me a quick kiss. “And in case I wasn’t clear with the moaning and the orgasm-induced tremors, last night and this morning were magical. Almost as magical as the horseback riding and almost as orgasmic as the barbecue.”
“Almost?” I repeat in mock indignation.
She giggles and starts down the stairs. I follow her and grab her ass as punishment for that snarky remark. She squeals and swats at me. I follow her right out onto the deck, and as we wait for her Lyft I turn her to face me and lift her so her ass is on the railing.
“I have a question,” I say as I part her legs and push my hips between them.
“Is it ‘do we have time for a quickie?’ Because the answer is technically no, but I’m willing to try anyway,” she says with a sly smile as she wraps her arms around my neck.
I laugh softly and step closer. “My question is, who is helping you come to terms with this?”
She looks suddenly flustered. “What?”
“You’re clearly there for your sisters and everyone else, but who are you leaning on while everyone leans on you?” It’s a loaded question; I think I already know the answer is no one. I want to be that person for her. I don’t care how crazy that may seem given that we’ve known each other less than a month. I want to be her rock.
“I’m fine,” she says, but she’s not fooling anyone, least of all herself.
I reach up and cup the side of her face, tilting her by the chin so she has to look right at me. “Promise me you’ll call if you need anything or want anything. Whether it’s to talk, cry, scream, or get naked.”
She smiles at that. “You are definitely my go-to for nudity from here on out.”
I kiss her. “I want to be your one and only for nudity from here on out. Sound good?”
“Yeah. It sounds good.”
I cock my head and scrub my chin like I’m deep in thought. “I think that means we just kind of made this official.”
“Nudity clauses usually do that.” She winks at me, and I feel myself getting hard over that sexy smirk of hers.
I’m about to kiss her again when a car honks. She glances over her shoulder, and I step back as she drops to her feet. She looks down. “You’re in your underwear,” she notes. “And you’re half hard.”
“Oops.” I adjust myself and glance around. The marina is pretty empty except for her Lyft and a few cars in the—
“I’ll call you later.” She kisses my cheek and gives me a quick hug, which I return, but my eyes are on the van I spotted parked near the end of the lot, sideways across two spots so the tinted driver’s side window is aligned with my houseboat.
She jumps in the Lyft, and it turns and drives out of the parking lot, but I don’t move. I keep standing on my deck, looking at that van. Is it the same one we saw on the beach a couple of nights ago?
I suddenly don’t care that I’m barefoot and in only my underwear. I hop over my deck railing and onto the dock. I start marching toward the parking lot, and as soon as my feet hit the pavement the van roars to life and moves toward the exit. I start to jog and then run, cutting in front of the vehicle. I worry for a split second I’m about to become a speed bump, but, thankfully, the van stops. I slam my hand on the hood with a loud bang.
Through the windshield, which is less tinted than the side windows, I see a terrified dude staring back at me. He’s got greasy, long, black hair and beady dark brown eyes. He looks startled and guilty as all hell. Like a raccoon you find raiding your trash bin.
“Open your window!” I bellow, and a second later I hear the hum of the window going down. I walk around the side of the van.
“Look, buddy, I don’t want any trouble. Don’t make this worse for you than it already is,” he warns, and I frown.
“What the ever-loving fuck are you talking about?” I demand, holding onto his side mirror even though I know, realistically, it’s not going to stop him from driving off if he truly wants to. “Were you at the beach last night? Are you following me?”
“I’m doing my job, buddy,” he replies. “And no offense, but you’re making it incredible easy. I almost feel sorry for you, but I don’t know…My boss says your wife is a looker and paying us a ton.”
“I don’t have a wife,” I snap, and every muscle in my body turns to stone. “I have an ex-wife. Holy shit. Did she hire you to follow me?”
He looks confused for a moment, and then he shrugs. “Alls I know is I’m supposed to document your activities with other women and anything else you do that’s shady or can be made to look shady.”
I don’t know what is more shocking, that Lauren would actually do this or that this jackass is stupid enough to confess everything to me. “You’re shitty at your job, you know that?”
