She slept hard, like all teens did. Half buried under her blanket, bed scattered with books and stickies and the phone beside her. He moved the objects to the desk so she wouldn’t roll over anything and smiled at her smooth, relaxed face. Today had been good. By the time she’d retired to her bedroom, Everett sensed a bond between them that simply hadn’t been there this whole summer.
Surfing had brought it to him.
And Rowan.
Gently shutting her door, he grabbed a glass of water and headed to the balcony. Letting the fragrant air cool his skin, he listened to the distant roar of waves and allowed himself to think of her.
He should’ve shaken it off by now. God knows he’d been told worse by people who mattered far more to his profit margin. People who judged him by money and clothes and status. But Rowan’s words lodged under his skin, under his ribs, deeper than they had a right to.
You’re not the type. Too structured. You could never really live in my world.
He wanted in. At first, Everett figured it was the simple challenge or the chase. As the hours passed, and the words kept playing through his head, he realized the problem.
He didn’t want to belong to her world as a tourist or the guy waving from shore.
He wanted more.
Everett remembered how she’d looked in the surf. Not her body, though God, that was a distraction he’d handled badly all day—the strong line of her shoulders; the fine scatter of freckles over her nose and cheeks; the messy bun skewering that heavy, dark hair; skin like painted sunlight.
No. He’d studied the way she stiffened after she uttered those words. Like she’d put down a line and dared him to pick a side. A flare of guilt reflected in her gold-green eyes, before being firmly extinguished with a joke.
Damned if it hadn’t stung, because she was both right and wrong. Everett knew he was structured. He liked his world tidy, and he made laundry lists out of chaos. He’d built a life for a little girl who needed him to be unbendable. It was how he’d survived the parts that broke. It was how he’d kept Kelsey standing when everything else crashed around them.
But he also remembered a boy who craved new experiences before his father crushed all curiosity in the name of results. Once, he’d wanted to understand things from the inside out, and jump without checking safety nets. But somewhere along the way, he’d become a man with nice shoes who watched and financed the people who leapt with reckless joy.
He muttered a curse and paced the small balcony. What would it be like to surprise them? To speak Rowan’s language just enough that when she said something likepopandfollow the line, he’d know what it meant in his bones. How would it feel to share an experience with Kelsey and not be the spotter on the beach for the rest of his life?
He hadn’t thought of the hotel all day. Hadn’t craved to sneak a few peeks at his phone.
Hadn’t mentally organized calls to return or emails to draft. Hadn’t thought about donors or investors or the way Purity would sit on the coastline and make people both angry and thrilled. Usually, the guilt brought him back to the job.
Today, he hadn’t cared. It had been about Kelsey and Rowan at the North Shore. Eating shrimp from a food truck and having a conversation without a goal. Holding Rowan’s hand and walking together with his daughter in the middle. Like a ...
Family.
He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the impulse to pass. When it didn’t, Everett grabbed his phone and sent the simple text.
Can I come over?
Of course she’d be sleeping. It was late. She wasn’t aching like him, desperate to be close and hungry for his touch. He’d be embarrassed in the morning about this emotional slip-up and back in control and he’d—
Yes.
His head swam. He dragged in air, rubbing his hand over his face. Before he could think himself out of it, Everett scribbled a note in case Kelsey woke up. Not caring about changing, he quickly brushed his teeth, shoved on boat shoes, ran fingers through his hair, and headed out.
The drive was short with no traffic. He drove up to her bungalow and tapped at her front door. She opened it immediately and stepped back to allow him entry.
Everett stared at her. She was fresh from bed, obvious with her messy hair, flushed skin, and oversize T-shirt hitting above her knees. Braless. Barefoot. Blinking with surprise as he stood in front of her like a lunatic. Need strangled him and his fingers itched to reach out and close the distance.
The confession spilled from his lips. “I need you.”
She cocked her head, as if studying him in the shadows. Panic hit. He’d made a huge mistake. This was a summer affair with set rules, and showing up in the middle of the night was not one of them. Neitherwere the growing emotions that messily tangled up his head and his heart. He wondered if he had the strength to apologize and leave. Before it was too late.
But he kept standing there.
Her smile was slow and sweet and welcoming. She reached her hand out. “I’m glad you’re here.”
And then she was in his arms and he was kissing her. Her mouth was warm and minty as his tongue slipped between her lips, hungry for all of her. She matched him stroke for stroke, hands shoved up under his shirt, scraping her nails down his back. He picked her up and stumbled to the bed.
