“You have to ask? What did I tell you about expecting guys to go the extra mile with you?”
“But this was supposed to be a friend date,” she pointed out sassily.
“The best relationships start as friends. Just ask Serena and Drake.” He sat back, letting her row alone and thinking about how true that statement was. He knew if he kissed her, she wouldn’t stop them there. Once they let go, the heat between them would be too strong, just as it had been the night they’d spent together. But he wanted to earn her trust. Even more strongly, he wanted her to trust herself before they took their relationship to the next level because the only woman he wanted was finally right there within his reach, and once they took that step, he knew he’d never want it to end.
“You look hot taking control of the boat like that,” he said, and she smiled over her shoulder.
“This isn’t so hard.”
He could make so many dirty retorts right then, but he kept them under wraps, and when they reached the middle of the pond, he shifted closer again. “This is far enough.”
He wrapped his hands over hers and showed her how to lift the oars and rest them inside the boat.
“That was fun,” she said. She gripped the sides of the boat as he moved to the bench across from her. “Do you do this a lot? By yourself, I mean.”
“A couple times a week. I like to get my mind out of the trenches.” He opened the tackle box and withdrew a bottle of peach tea. “For you, madam.”
“You remembered…”
He winked and withdrew a plastic container with an array of cheese and crackers, setting it on the bench beside her. “In case you get hungry, since we’re catching our dinner.”
“We are?” Her eyes widened.
“Please tell me you like to eat fish.”
“I love it.” She unscrewed the top of her drink and took a sip. Her gaze rolled over his face as she screwed the top back on and set it on the floor of the boat. “And I like doing this, being here on the water with you. It’s different.”
“So are you, sweetheart.” He pulled the other tackle box out from beneath the bench. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever baited a line?”
“Ew.” Her nose wrinkled adorably.
He chuckled. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll bait the lines; you can be in charge of feeding me.”
“You’re pretty good at this dating thing, aren’t you? You have lots of ways to get a woman to do intimate things, like helping with rowing and feeding you, without coming across as too pushy. I like it.”
Good to know. As he baited their fishing lines, he said, “Tell me something, Harp. You said you pick things apart. Are bad experiences with guys a pattern for you?”
“No.” She put a piece of cheese on a cracker and lifted it to his lips. As he bit into it, she said, “I mean, I’ve had some bad dates, but not like the things that happened in LA.”
“What about long-term relationships? Have you had many?”
“A few months here and there, but there’s never been one great love of my life that I lost, if that’s what you’re getting at. What about you?”
“I’ll let you in on a secret, but if you ruin my rep, I’ll have to kill you.”
“Now you have to tell me.” She bit into a cracker.
He chuckled. “Nothing long-term since my first year of college. I date, and I’ve been with my share of women, but I’m not the player Chloe thinks I am. I come from a traditional family, and I want that someday. If anything, I’m careful. I think it takes a bigger man to pass up a one-night stand than it does to take advantage of it.”
She stared at him as she took a drink of her tea. As she recapped the bottle, she said, “We had a one-night stand.”
“Technically that’s not true. You’re here now.”
“Oh, Mr. Wheeler,” she said as she fed him another bite, “you have all the answers.”
“No, I don’t. How many guys would you guess you’ve gone out with over the past decade? Not slept with, just accepted a date from?”
“I don’t know. Maybe eight or ten?”
“And how many of those were bad?”
“Other than the ones in LA? None, really. They just weren’t particularly good.”
“Fair enough. Who decided who you’d go out with for all those years? Jana? Serena? Another friend? Who decided when you were ready to break things off?”
“Me, of course. Why?”
“Because it sounds to me like you’ve got a history of trusting your own instincts and they’ve never steered you wrong. That’s a pretty solid foundation, and yet you’re letting two bad experiences undermine it.” He cast a line into the water and handed Harper the fishing rod. “Two unusual or bad experiences, Harp, not ten or even five, but two.” He set a thoughtful gaze on her and said, “That seems a bit out of proportion and unfair to you.”
Chapter Five
GAVIN CAST ANOTHER line and said, “You dated a cheater, who we’ll call the asshole, and a guy who happened to prefer the sampler platter to the steak or seafood. Those things could have happened to anyone. Hell, I’ve been cheated on, and these days threesomes are commonplace.”
She nearly choked on that. “Commonplace? Have you had a threesome?”
“No. I told you, I’m more of a traditional guy. Nothing intrigues me about sharing someone I’m intimate with, but that’s not a hard limit for lots of people.” He reached over and reeled in her line a little. “If you have too much slack in the line, you won’t feel the fish when it bites. You know what? Fishing is a lot like dating. You throw more back than you keep.”
“That’s the truth. Do you want another cracker?”
“No, thanks. Some sugar would be good.” He winked, and her cheeks pinked up. He reached into the tackle box again, withdrawing two red lollipops. “Your favorite.”
“You really did remember everything.”
When they were in Romance, they’d wandered into a candy store. The retailer was out of red lollipops, and Gavin had insisted on walking several blocks to the grocery store, where he’d bought a bag of lollipops just to give her the red ones. It had touched her then as much as his thoughtfulness touched her now.
He took the wrapper off the lollipops and handed her one.
“Basically, you’re saying I’m being too hard on myself?” she asked.
“Exactly. You’re a smart woman. You followed your heart and made a career doing what you love. I don’t think it’s your instincts that are giving you trouble. You said your show was canceled?”
“After months of rewrites, casting, more rewrites based on the cast, and finally filming, the show wasn’t picked up. It really gutted me.”
“I can only imagine,” he said empathetically. “I’m so sorry you went through that, but you had nothing to do with the show not being picked up, Harp. I understand why it dragged you down. You worked your ass off to get there. You left your home with high hopes of becoming something bigger and better, or…?”
“Just becoming something,” she confessed.
“But it sounds like you had already achieved what most screenwriters pray for and never do. You wrote a cable show a few years ago. I looked it up, and it was funny and sexy, and it ran for two seasons.”
“Then it was dropped.”
“But that’s the world you chose to play in. If it were easy, everyone would do it. Do you realize how amazing it is that your first cable show ran for two seasons? I did some research, and only about twenty percent of sitcoms are renewed for a second season.”
“You researched it?”
“I did, and I looked into the show you were working on that didn’t get picked up. From what I read, it had to do with Hollywood politics, not the writing itself.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s what everyone said. I can’t believe you researched it.”
He shrugged one shoulder, like it wasn’t a big deal, when it felt huge to her.
“I wanted to know if you had a reason to worry about your career or no
t.”
“I do,” she said. “It’s not easy to sell a show, and I haven’t written anything but garbage since it all went down. I had to take a job writing current event articles for the newspaper just for a paycheck. Talk about going backward.”
There was a tug on his fishing line, and he reeled it in a little, pulled back on the rod, then reeled it again. “That’s not going backward. That’s finding your footing until your next muse comes along.”
“Whatever. It is what it is. Do you have a fish on the line?” she asked excitedly.
“Feels like it. Give me your rod. You can reel mine in.” He took her rod and handed her his.
“No! I can’t. I’ve never done it before.”
He put her hand on the rod and said, “You can.”
“What if I drop it?” she asked nervously, clutching the rod like a lifeline.
“You won’t.” He set her rod on the floor of the boat. “Just let the fish guide you. When it tugs, you pull back a little and reel it in slowly.”
Her heart raced as she concentrated, pulling and reeling as he’d described.
“That’s it. Keep going.”
His encouragement, and the way he was watching her, like he was as excited as she was, made it even more fun. “I hope I don’t lose it. What if I do?”
“Then we’ll starve,” he teased. “You’re doing great. You’re going to reel that fish in, and I bet your writing isn’t as horrible as you think, either. I have some work to do this weekend. How about we hit the coffee shop tomorrow with our laptops for a working date and see if we can stir up some inspiration?”
She was having such a good time, it was hard to remember why she hadn’t wanted to accept his offer for a date in the first place. “I have to unpack the rest of my things and get organized this weekend or I’m going to lose my mind. I have a meeting with my boss at the newspaper on Monday and some other things to take care of Tuesday and Wednesday. But I’d really like to fit it in at some point.”
“Then we’ll find the time.” He reached over and felt her line. “Good job, Harp. Reel it in all the way. You’ve got this.”
She did as he said, squealing with delight as a big flapping fish broke the surface. “I did it! I got one! What do I do now?”
He grabbed the line and said, “I think you mean what do I do, unless you want to get the hook out of its mouth?”
“Ew!”
“I’ve got it. But first…” He dug his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of her holding the line with the fish dangling from it. He put his phone in the tackle box. As he removed the hook he said, “It’s a small-mouthed bass, about sixteen inches. Nice job, Harp.”
“It was your fish. I just reeled it in.”
“You reeled it in all right…”
He held her gaze, and her pulse sprinted at the innuendo in his eyes. Maybe he was right and she was giving too much weight to the combination of the bad dates and the show being canceled. Maybe she should trust her instincts.
Lord knew she wanted to.
They continued fishing and talking, and after catching two more, Gavin said, “Ready to go clean the fish and cook them for dinner?”
“Sure. This has been so much fun. Thank you for not letting me hide away in my cottage.”
“If I have it my way,” he said as they reeled in their lines, “you’ll never want to hide away again.”
He looked casual with a pole in his hand and the breeze lifting his hair. But his gaze wasn’t casual at all, the way it bored into her soul, imploring her to hear the meaningful words he said.
Her pole bent, snapping her from her Gavin-induced trance. “I’ve got one!” The front of her rod bent so far over she was afraid it would snap. She stood up to get a better grip and said, “I need help. Take it. It’s really strong.”
“Not a chance, sweetheart. This is your big catch. You’ve got it.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said, leaning back as she reeled it in.
“Trust yourself. That’s the theme of tonight, right?”
She looked at him at the same moment her line pitched forward. She lost her footing and screamed as she tumbled over the edge of the boat and into the frigid, black water. She couldn’t see a thing as she swam toward what she hoped was the surface, clinging to the rod with one hand. She felt a whoosh beside her and struggled to hold the air in her lungs as an arm circled her belly, dragging her in the opposite direction.
She broke the surface and gulped for air.
“I’ve got you, Harp,” Gavin panted out. He had one arm belted around her middle, using his legs and his other arm to tread water. “It’s okay. You’re okay, babe. I’ve got you.”
She was clinging to him with one arm around his neck and her legs around his waist and realized she was crying. For some reason that made her laugh, which made him laugh.
“You okay?” he said.
“Yes. Scared, embarrassed, but…” She lifted the rod from the water, proud to have never let go, and they both laughed.
“My little fisherwoman.” He tossed the fishing rod into the boat with one hand, still holding onto her.
His eyes found hers again, and she became aware of his muscles moving hard and insistent to keep them both afloat, the seriousness of his gaze, the feel of his strong hand on her skin, and the romantic moonlight raining down on them.
“How can you doubt yourself about anything, Harper? Those guys don’t know what they missed by screwing you over. If you were mine, I’d never make that mistake.”
She didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, as she crushed her lips to his warm, soft mouth. Even with his legs pumping and water splashing their faces, kissing Gavin was just as sensual and thrilling as she remembered. He held her tighter, deepening the kiss as they bobbed in the water, and sweet Lord, how she’d missed him.
When their lips parted, her head was spinning. “Sorry. No. I’m not sorry. I liked it. But—”
His deep laughter stopped her ramblings.
“You trusted your instincts, Harp. That’s a good thing.”
“Uh-huh,” she said. “But my life is still a mess. I can’t be with you like that until I have my own head on straight. I like you, Gavin. I really like you, and I don’t want to mess this up, but I’m sure to if my life is in a state of chaos.”
“I get it. You’re not ready. We’ll chalk that kiss up to how irresistible I am. But just so you know, you can trust your instincts with me anytime you’d like.”
God, he was so cocky and cute, she wanted to kiss him again!
“Come on, you’re shivering. Let’s get back to my place and warm you up.” He helped her into the boat, and as he climbed in after her, he said, “Who knows, you might have other instincts you want to follow.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering despite the way her insides were still vibrating from that incredible kiss.
His eyes flamed, and he said, “I’m always available. Lips, hands, and other body parts, too…”
She reached over the side and splashed him, but it was she who needed the dose of cold water, because she was already fantasizing about those other body parts…
BY THE TIME they climbed out of the boat, Harper’s teeth were chattering. Gavin lent her a sweatshirt to wear with her sweatpants and suggested she take a hot shower while he rinsed off and then prepared dinner. Trying not to think about her naked in his guest bathroom while he rinsed off was impossible. He had visions of that sexy sunflower—and what kissing it did to her. He forced himself to think about algebra, an instant boner killer, and rushed through his shower to start dinner.
With the fish and vegetables on the grill, he made a fire in the fire pit and went inside to grab a few blankets. He found Harper holding her wet clothes and looking at the pictures of his family and friends on the wall by the master bedroom. Her hair was twisted up in a bun, and the sleeves of his favorite college sweatshirt were rolled up above her wrists. Even in baggy sweatpants and the oversized sweatshirt, she w
as the sexiest woman alive. Her face tipped up as she stepped closer to get a better look at the pictures, and he took a better look at her. She made his house feel warmer, happier, and she looked comfortable. A far cry from the sick act she’d put on earlier. He had no idea how or why, but he had the overwhelming sensation that she belonged there.
She turned, catching him admiring her, and blushed. “Thanks for letting me shower. Sorry I fell in.”
“I’m not,” he said, coming to her side.
She inhaled sharply and then turned her attention to the pictures on the wall. “Is this your brother? The dark-haired guy?” She pointed to a picture of Gavin and Beckett sitting on their parents’ deck, taken right before he left for college.
“Yeah, that’s Beckett.”
“Is he the one you went to the festival with? He’s handsome.”
“He’s not my type, but yeah, I guess.” Gavin had never had any jealousy issues, but he couldn’t ignore the pang in his gut her comment caused. They’d been so into each other at the festival, she’d never had a chance to meet Beckett. Now he wished she had, because for the first time in years, he was with someone he wanted a relationship with. “I only have one brother. I went home that weekend, and Beckett dragged me to the festival. It was the best thing he’s ever done.”
She held his gaze and licked her lips, leaving them wet, and man, he wanted to kiss her again.
Desperately.
But he’d promised himself he’d give her the space she needed to heal and find her footing, so he shoved that urge down deep.
“I’m glad he did,” she said. “He looks nice. Do you miss him?”
“From time to time, I guess. We text and talk pretty often, mostly to give each other shit about our sports teams or just to shoot the breeze. He keeps me up to date on what’s going on back home and with our parents.”
“Are these them?” She pointed to a picture of his parents standing by a tree in their front yard.
“That’s them. Mark and Marjorie Wheeler.”
“Your mom looks just like that actress Rene Russo.”
“Everyone says that,” he said.
Bayside Romance (Bayside Summers) Page 6
