Hot Summer Nights: A Four Seasons Novel

by Lee, Geneva

  I pried my eyes open, feeling vulnerable and secure at the same time, and met his smoldering gaze. It was the final push and I fell over the edge, safely in his arms the whole time. I rode out my orgasm as his body went rigid. He groaned and brought his mouth to mine and we shattered together.

  There were no words as we collapsed onto one another, sweaty and boneless. Gavin rolled me to the side and tucked me against his body, holding me closely as we lingered in the afterglow.

  I counted his breaths with the beats of my heart.

  Chapter 18

  I didn’t remember falling asleep. I woke to the sound of Gavin softly snoring behind me. It was twilight outside, far too early to fall asleep for the night. But I couldn’t bring myself to wake him. Instead, I lingered in his embrace for a moment before realizing that I really needed to go to the bathroom. I wiggled out from his arms, which were quite heavy when he was unconscious.

  The girl in the mirror was glowing and rosy-cheeked. My dark hair had a wild, tousled style that I could never replicate with every product in the world. This was a look that only getting laid could achieve.

  “Fancy meeting you here.” I said to myself. It had been a long time since that face had greeted me. Too long and somehow just long enough. No other man could have put that smile on my face.

  I tiptoed out of the bathroom and found Gavin’s T-shirt on the floor. It was just long enough to cover my booty, and since I didn’t really know how close any neighboring houses might be, I decided it was best to cover up before I explored. I needed a glass of water and a moment to commit every detail of what had just happened to memory. I grabbed one of the water bottles from the nightstand and snuck out of the bedroom. In the kitchen I found a glass and filled it with ice before dumping the now tepid water in, then I began to wander.

  Outside the living space, there was a large patio and another cobblestone path leading off in the direction of Gavin’s room. I wandered down it aimlessly, struck by the rosy hues of twilight over San Juan Island, one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen the sun set. The path led to a small garden that sat directly under the balcony of Gavin’s bedroom. Like most foliage in this area, it hadn’t been tended to in a while and didn’t really need to be. Wild flowers grew recklessly, unconcerned with whether they were wanted or not, but there was a small sitting area and two Adirondack chairs where I sat down and watched the sun began its descent over the water.

  This was the most beautiful place in the world. Calm and lush and richly colored. My infatuation with this place might have had something to do with the company I was keeping. I really had it bad if I was getting poetic.

  The real poetry existed in the memories we had just made though.

  I recalled how his lips had felt on my body, how his hand moved between my legs, how we found our bliss together. The connection was undeniable, and I could see it in his eyes, too.

  Why had I ever thought I’d been in love before? The thought rocked through me. Because if I hadn’t been in love before, could I be in love now? It didn’t seem possible. It didn’t seem rational. But admitting it to myself felt right. A deep peace settled over me and I knew.

  I loved Gavin North. I loved him beyond reason or expectation. I should have felt scared—to lose him, to move too fast—but I didn’t. I couldn’t.

  It was just right.

  Overhead I heard doors swing open and Gavin came out on the balcony. “There you are,” he called down, “I thought you’d finally gotten what you wanted out of me and left.”

  “You think that’s all I’ve come for?” If so, he had another thing coming. How many positions were in the Kama Sutra? We might have to give up sleep if we stood a chance at satisfying me.

  “Are you hungry?”

  I remembered with a start that we had promised to go to his friend Thomas’s restaurant. It was a good thing that I was famished. I nodded and popped onto my feet. “I’ll be right up to get dressed.”

  “Those are the saddest words ever spoken,” he said, shaking his head as he made his way back into the bedroom.

  It turned out getting dressed was a lot harder in Gavin’s presence. Mostly, because neither of us wanted to be dressed when we were around each other. But, he gave in and finally let me throw my sundress over my head when my stomach growled so loudly that he heard it over my moaning.

  The walk downhill was much easier, but I still stuck to a pair of flat, strappy sandals with extra cushioning. We walked hand-in-hand toward the twinkling lights of downtown. The sun hadn’t faded entirely, but the dusky pink was gradually settling into violet as the moon began her appearance. Summer was my favorite season, because day and night seemed to dance with one another, and I had never experienced a more beautiful summer night than this one. It was amazing to think that a place like this existed on earth—quiet and magical.

  Downtown was still full of life though, and the Weekend Café was packed. Clearly, Friday Harbor wasn’t hurting for tourism. But we were ushered into a quiet corner of the restaurant as soon as we arrived. A few tourists shot us dirty looks, and I smiled sheepishly as we were led to our table. I did feel bad about it, but I needed sustenance after my afternoon shag. The restaurant was charmingly simple with rustic wood floors and a large stone fireplace on the far wall. Its most stunning feature, however, was its waterfront location. Gavin ordered a bottle of wine and the waiter disappeared to bring it.

  “They didn’t bring us menus,” I said, looking around as if one might appear on the table.

  “Thomas would never hear of that,” Gavin explained. “He’ll bring us something delicious. Probably too many delicious things.”

  “Then we’ll have something to work off,” I said coyly. I grabbed my napkin and placed it over my lap.

  Gavin took my hand and brought it to his lips. “Earlier was amazing.”

  I bit my lip, unsure what to say. Amazing wasn’t quite the right word for it.

  Spectacular.

  Life-changing.

  Earth-shattering.

  All of those it seems apply. I was saved from falling victim to hyperbole by the appearance of Thomas.

  Thomas was thinner than I might have expected from someone who loved food, tall and reedy with graying hair and a perfectly-lined face. At the moment, he looked tired but happy, just what I would expect from a chef coming off the evening rush. Wiping his hands on his apron, he grabbed a chair, spun it around and sat down. “Any allergies I should know about?”

  “You’re getting broad-minded,” Gavin said, studying his friend as if he hadn’t seen him before.

  “You’ve never brought a woman here,” Thomas retorted, “I don’t want to scare her away by nearly killing her if she has a shellfish allergy.”

  “You’ve never asked me if I have a shellfish allergy,” Gavin said in a mock-accusatory tone.

  “I would kill you if you did,” Thomas said. “Put you out of your misery.”

  “That’s very sweet. There’s nothing to worry about,” I reassured him. “I’m easy.”

  What I said took a second to register and when it did I closed my eyes in embarrassment.

  Thomas only guffawed as the matter was settled and that was that. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all night.”

  “Her lack of shellfish allergy is the best news?” Gavin said, as if seeking clarification.

  “Sure,” his friend said, his eyes twinkling a bit as he clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s probably the best news for you, too.”

  “I should tell you now that I have foot-in-mouth disease,” I said to Gavin when Thomas was safely back in the kitchen. “I’m always saying the wrong thing without meaning to.”

  “I know. Why do you think I find you so fascinating?”

  “I assumed it was my ass,” I said dryly.

  “Believe me, that caught my eye. What caught my attention though was when you unleashed more curses than I had ever heard come out of a human’s mouth in the elevator that day—and I watched The Wolf of Wall
Street.”

  “I’ve got to work on that.” I’d gotten better or at least that’s what my best friends had told me. Maybe they’d developed a filter, too.

  Gavin shrugged and took a sip of his water. “Why? They are just words.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying!” It was clear he understood me.

  “I do have to wonder: do you talk like that around your parents?” he asked with interest.

  So, he had brought up my parents. No guy had ever brought up my parents. On one hand, it only seemed fair given that I met his sister and that we were staying in his family home. But I couldn’t remember the last time a boyfriend had just casually inquired about my family. “The only time my filter works at 100% capacity is around my parents. I think my mom might have a heart attack if she heard me say crap.”

  “I can’t wait to see you around them.” Gavin brushed his thumb over the back of my hand before taking it in his again.

  “Oh yeah?” I tried to sound nonchalant as though the idea that Gavin had just suggested he meet my parents wasn’t a big deal. Inside, half of me was twerking with joy and the other half of me was shaken. No boyfriend since high school had met my parents. That guy—the one who had taken me to prom—was met at the door by my father, shotgun in hand. I couldn’t picture what it would be like to bring a serious, adult boyfriend home. This time the gun might be loaded.

  “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Actually, that’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  That sounded serious, so it was a good thing that the waiter showed up with our bottle of wine. I took it from him, skipping the unnecessary tasting ritual and poured myself a large glass. Once booze was safely in my hands, I addressed the previous topic. “Talk about what?”

  “Imogen told my parents I was seeing you. I know.” He held up a hand before I could protest that we had not technically been together at that point. “We weren’t really seeing each other at the time, but she’s a bit of a psychic when it comes to these things. Anyway, they have been shamelessly calling, emailing, and texting—something I didn’t know my mother even knew how to do—and asking when they can meet you.” He ran his hand through his hair, that adorable, nervous tic he had. “Suffice it to say, I haven’t gotten involved with anyone in a long time. They’re chomping at the bit.”

  Gavin was worried about me meeting his parents, but it seemed like he wanted me to. It was awfully early for something like that. Yet, it also seemed perfectly natural. The war between my head and my heart rearing its ugly head. Rationally, I realized we hadn’t been dating that long. We’d spent some time together and we’d tried to ignore our attraction to one another. We’d known each other a couple of weeks. I might have expected to wait longer to meet most people’s parents. Given that I had never met any of my boyfriends’ parents either, I didn’t really have a typical timetable for these things. My best friends’ own experiences weren’t helpful. Jillian’s mother tended to show up like a hurricane, unannounced and intent on destruction. That’s how she had met Liam. Jess’s mother hadn’t even met Roman until after they were married. I supposed that what Gavin was asking was something safely in the middle. But even as I overthought it, my heart settled on the idea.

  “It’s cool. If they’re anything like you, I’m sure I’ll love them.” It slipped so easily from my mouth: theL-bomb. Foot in mouth activated. Had I said that out loud? Because the implication of it was pretty clear. If they’re anything like you, I’ll love them? So, I’d been feeling a lot like I was in love earlier. Saying it was a whole other thing. One I wasn’t sure how he would handle. It was like I had a relationship destruct button.

  But Gavin only smiled and leaned over to kiss me. “I know they’re going to love you, too.”

  Well, that didn’t help. It soothed my nerves a little regarding my faux pas, but I didn’t know how to take what he said. Did he mean if I loved them, they would love me? Or did he mean that they would love me like he loved me? I took another long swig of wine, hoping I’d find the answer at the bottom of it.

  Things were moving pretty fast. In my experience, I was usually the one behind the wheel, pressing the gas. I’d sworn not to be that way in any future relationship I might risk. But it didn’t feel like I was the one in the driver’s seat here. It wasn’t just Gavin speeding along either though. Was it possible that we were both moving at the same rate?

  “You look a little pensive,” he noted. “I knew I shouldn’t have brought up my parents. Forget it.”

  “No, I want to meet them,” I said quickly.

  “It feels like we’re moving fast, doesn’t it?” He’d read my mind. “I don’t know what to say, Cassie. I can slow down. It just feels right to me. Normal.”

  “Honestly? Me too,” I whispered. So I’d moved fast in relationships before, but deep down, I’d always known I was making mistakes. I just wanted to believe that everything would work out in those instances. Mostly, because I’d been so eager to find the one. It was time to confess that to him. “It’s just that I’ve moved fast in relationships before and that’s not always turned out well. Usually, I’m more into it then he is. It’s just that I’ve wanted to find the right person for so long. I watched my parents be in love my whole life. They met when they were sixteen, and they’ve shared everything together.”

  I stopped, realizing I was unloading a whole lot of emotional baggage on to him. But Gavin handled it as well as he had handled carrying our bags up that hill earlier today. “I know exactly what you mean, actually. My parents are the same way. I can’t say that I went out actively looking for love. I just kept waiting for the right person to come along. My dad told me something once and it stuck with me.” He shook his head and took a sip of wine. “I won’t scare you off with that one.”

  I leaned forward, my interest piqued. “If I haven’t scared you away already, then you should feel pretty safe that I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’re amazing,” he said, as if I’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket. “I told my dad that I didn’t know when I would have time to find the one. It was a couple years ago when I was just getting NorthWest Investments up and running. I dated a few girls off and on in college, but nothing stuck. I’d confided in him that I didn’t think I would ever have what he and my mom had. He said to me that life wasn’t about finding the right one, it was about reaching her. I’ll never forget that.”

  I sat back and digested his words. Not finding the one—reaching the one? Somehow it made perfect sense. I thought back to the first day of my internship running into Luka and then Danny and then Trevor—a string of boyfriends past to remind me where I had been—and then meeting Gavin.

  I hadn’t found Gavin. I had reached him.

  “Are you sure I haven’t scared you off?” He asked after a few moments of silence.

  “No,” I said softly, “I think you’re stuck with me.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” He kissed my hand again as if sealing his words as a promise.

  “So, you’ve never brought another woman here?” I tried to emphasis here as in this restaurant, which was not at all what I wanted to know. Thomas had made a big deal about my presence, which had left me with a few questions.

  “No, I haven’t. I’ve never felt like bringing anyone I dated to Friday Harbor,” he admitted.

  I preened a bit at this revelation. Reading between the lines that meant our relationship was different. It also meant…

  “Why do you have a drawer full of condoms?” I blurted out, shutting my mouth quickly as our appetizer arrived: a pile of oysters on a bed of ice.

  “You really do say whatever comes in your head, don’t you?” Gavin mused as he picked one up and slurped it back. “I put them there when we arrived while you were in the bathroom. I didn’t want to seem presumptuous, but I, uh, presumed.”

  “Oh.” That made a whole heap of sense. It was the gentlemanly thing to do and as long as he was being responsible I should be, too. We were sleepi
ng together after all. “I’m on the pill. Well, the shot. Less to remember.”

  “Good to know,” he said, sounding genuinely relieved.

  “No little Cassies or Gavins.” For now. Had I actually just thought that? Had the thought of having this man’s babies just appealed to me? Sure, I was picturing like twenty years from now, but still. What was he doing to me? I scrambled for any change in topic before I overshared those thoughts with him. “I don’t get oysters.”

  Yes, Cassie. I internally rolled my eyes. Insult his friend’s food. That will win you points.

  “Don’t eat a lot of oysters in Texas?” he guessed.

  “To say the least. I never know what to do—and how are they an aphrodisiac? They’re just chewy,” I confessed. “There are no oyster eating lessons on a ranch.”

  “Let me show you.” He picked another up along with a tiny fork and gently moved it around in the shell. “So, you take it like this and you suck it in your mouth, but don’t swallow. Just bite it once or twice. You don’t have to chew it up. You just want to get all the flavors. Really savor it.”

  He demonstrated, a look of revelation coming over his face, as he tasted it. I blushed a little recognizing that was how he looked after he’d gone down on me. I gulped some wine and did my best not to get lost in thoughts of that.

  “Here.” He handed me one.

  I took it with some trepidation. Yes, it looked easy. But I had a spectacular ability to make an ass out of myself. I did exactly as he did, except I closed my eyes to try to concentrate on the experience, hoping I could see why he loved them so much.

  I sucked it onto my tongue then chewed once. Twice. A salty, sweetness flooded over my tongue. I let it linger for a moment before swallowing.

  “It tastes like the whole ocean in your mouth,” Gavin said softly. “It’s mysterious and unexpected every time kinda like making love.”

  Oysters were not taking my mind off sex. The rest of the meal was less suggestive. Although still full of foods known for their more sensual qualities: salmon in a butter sauce with a hint of chili pepper, long spears of asparagus, and for dessert a tray of ripe, red strawberries, locally grown, with a pot of melted chocolate and freshly whipped cream. Thomas was one hell of a wingman.