No explanation.
I glanced up just in time to catch Bastian walking away from me like he hadn’t done anything at all. My chest tightened. He was watching out for me again.
He always did things like that. Quiet little things nobody else noticed. Solving problems before anyone asked. Taking care of people without wanting credit for it.
Especially me.
That familiar warmth spread down to my core before I could stop it. No matter how many years passed or how long he disappeared, Bastian always showed up when it mattered.
Later, as the sun started dipping lower across the lake and shadows stretched longer over the yard, I wandered barefoot down toward the dock wanting a little quiet away from everyone else. The wood was still warm beneath my feet from the heat of the day.
I stepped near the edge of the dock and hissed when something sharp sliced into the bottom of my foot.
“Shit,” I grunted, jerking back by instinct, pain shooting up my leg.
I sat down quickly on the edge of the dock and lifted my foot, watching blood start welling near my arch. Probably a splinter or broken piece of wood from the old dock boards. I was just about to stand up and head back toward the house when a shadow fell over me.
I looked up against the glare of the setting sun and found Bastian standing there. Without saying a word, he crouched in front of me and wrapped one large hand around my ankle. My breath caught.
His touch felt rough and warm against my skin, his calloused fingers spanning nearly the entire width of my ankle like it was nothing.
“Hold still,” he said. His voice came out low and rough enough to make heat curl low in my stomach.
He grabbed a water bottle beside him and poured it carefully over the cut while his thumb brushed slowly across my skin, cleaning away the blood.
Every single touch sent little shocks racing up my leg.
I stared down at the top of his head while my body reacted so intensely. He was so close I could smell him clearly now. Engine grease. Soap. Whiskey lingering beneath it all. Somethingintense and masculine that always reminded me of him no matter how many years passed.
The air between us suddenly felt thick with something I didn’t know how to name.
His thumb kept moving in slow circles against my skin, careful and gentle in a way I’d almost forgotten he could be. The touch itself was innocent. I knew that. But the way my body reacted to him was anything but innocent.
“You’re still bleeding a little,” he said quietly. “Looks like one of these old boards got you pretty good.”
“I’m okay,” I said softly. My voice sounded softer than I intended.
The second his eyes met mine, I forgot how to breathe. Our eyes locked while his hand stayed wrapped around my bare leg, my foot resting against his thigh. The sounds of the cookout faded into the background until all I could hear was my own heartbeat and the uneven rhythm of his breathing.
This was so wrong. Bastian was my step-uncle. Eighteen years older than me. The same man who used to wrap me in his jacket during thunderstorms when I was little. But right then, sitting with his rough hand against my skin and heat burning in his eyes, I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
Bastian’s gaze dropped to my mouth for the briefest second before his entire body tensed. He let go of my ankle so fast it was like touching me burned him.
He stood abruptly and took a step back. “You should get inside and clean that properly,” he said, his words rushed out. “And watch where you’re walking next time.” He turned and walked away, his shoulders tight like he couldn’t put enough distance between us fast enough.
I remained on the dock staring after him while my foot throbbed and my pulse raced so hard it hurt.
This summer was already wrecking me.
And the worst part was, I didn’t mind at all.
4
BASTIAN
I’d been doing everything possible to avoid her for the past few days.
Every morning, I left the guest house before anyone was up and worked at the marina until it got dark, burying myself in engine repairs and whatever odd jobs needed doing.
