“It’s true,” she said, crossing then uncrossing her legs to reveal her thick mound pressing against her skimpy bathing suit bottom. “If you weren’t attached, I’d show you just how much I’ve missed you.”
Derek clucked his tongue and peered back toward the ocean, watching a handful of surfers try to ride the choppy slop. It was early afternoon, the sun still high, a bright, blue cloudless sky overhead, but his mind was elsewhere: Trying to picture Dana as she’d been during their one night together.
He’d been drunk. Or, at least, buzzed, and could remember few details beyond the small butterfly tattoo to the left of her navel – which she still had – and the taste of her warm, wet lips on his own. Other than that, the night was a heady blur, one in a long string of puppy dog crushes, late night hookups and random couplings that marked his last year of high school.
What he did know was that Dana was no shrinking violet, and if she’d had any feelings for him back then, she’d kept them close to her vest. After all, he hadn’t been the only one dodging their late-night hookup the next Monday in the halls. She’d wanted nothing to do with him back then, so why show up now?
He supposed none of that really mattered anymore. After all, that was then and this was now. He had Sage, she had Archie, that should be enough for both of them. So why was she sitting there, alluring and sultry and buzzed at two in the afternoon, giving him the major “come hither” vibe?
Archie snuffled and snorted just then, rousing Derek to action. “We should probably get him home, huh?”
“Relax,” she purred, opening the cooler and grabbing two more beers. “You’ve only seen the sweet Archie so far. Wake him from a nap? And you won’t like what you see.”
He nodded, accepting the beer as she leaned forward, showing him the goods. They lingered there, leaning half-over in their chairs, longer than they should have. The ocean crashed, little Archie snoozed and the big beach umbrella made them feel all alone.
She looked good, damn good, and a far sight better than when she’d shown up on his porch last night. Whether it was a good night’s sleep, the new bikini or just his wanderlust, Derek saw not the girl in front of him but the prime piece he’d plucked almost five years earlier.
He sat back, sipping his first beer of the day and giving in to the moment. Sage was busy at the store, and would be until it closed that night. He didn’t have a new surf camp until next week, leaving his days free to get to know Dana again. And, of course, his son.
The word still felt new on his tongue. New and strange and unfamiliar and yet, peering down at the sleeping tot, Derek had to smile. He couldn’t find a single similarity between himself and little Archie, but then… who knows what the tyke would look like at seven? Or ten? Or twenty? They’d probably be the spitting image of each other by then.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Dana said, still leaning forward as Derek peered back at her. She seemed sweaty and ripe all of a sudden, as if her internal engine was overheating.
He leaned back, as if to stay so close might ignite his own inner desire, and sipped his beer to cool down. “Nothing,” he said, nodding toward Archie. “Just… I’m still trying to get used to all this, I guess.”
“This baby,” she teased doing her leg-crossing thing again, “or this baby mama?”
He had to snort, feeling like a teenager again and, sometimes, wishing it were so. Not that his life was exactly “complicated” now, but few times are as stress-free as high school. And his was even less so. Surf every morning, a few classes a day, party all night… lather, rinse, repeat. Then again, he wondered how different his life might have been if Dana had told him about little Archie all those years ago.
“I still wish you had told me,” he said, their eyes meeting in the sultry shade beneath the umbrella.
“Will you get off it?” she sighed, wriggling to get more comfortable in her chair. “I didn’t tell you, Derek, because somewhere in the back of my mind I thought, some day, we might get back together.”
“Together?” he snorted. “We were hardly an item.”
“I know, and I regret that now.”
“Now?” He literally hooted, slapping a knee. “You sure didn’t care much back then.”
She wriggled in her chair, showing more leg, more flat belly, more ripe breasts. “You weren’t… you… then, Derek. Just another surf rat I hooked up with under the bleachers.”
“And now?” he teased.
“Now you’re someone I wouldn’t mind hooking up with again.”
He growled, only half-playfully. “You know that’s not gonna happen, Dana.”
“Why not?” she purred before sucking down another long sip of beer. “Don’t you want to do it right this time?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She chuckled. “No, I mean… it was fine, sure, but, don’t you want to try it lying down? On a bed? Candlelight and roses and smooth jazz and such?”
“Dana,” he groaned. “Life is different now. That can’t… that won’t… happen.”
“Why not, baby?” she cooed, and he could imagine her in bed, naked and dewy, damp and fragrant, eager to do anything to get him back. “Your old lady would never know.”
“Oh my god,” he groaned, literally palming his face. “You did not just call Sage my ‘old lady’.”
“I did,” she chuckled, “because she’s your lady and she’s old.”
“She’s not old, Jesus,” he huffed. “We’re only ten years apart.”
But saying it out loud only made it worse, Dana’s face crumpling in disbelief. “That many?” she gasped. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“It’s not bad, Dana,” Derek said, and just then little Archie snuffled, sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“What’s not bad?” she mumbled, looking pink and rosy from sunburn.
“You’re right on time, little man,” Derek said, patting his little tummy. “Now we can head home and make you some lunch!”
Chapter 7:
Sage
“There she is!”
Sage waved and came out from behind the counter as Rhoda walked in, looking casual as ever in a powder blue sundress and tan sandals, her dirty blond hair piled overhead. She grabbed a stack of romance novels she’d been hoarding for the last few days, ever since Rhoda saved her butt big time by letting Dana stay at the Seaside Motel.
“Don’t give me anything yet,” Rhoda warned, looking tired and wan despite the blue sky and raging sunlight right outside. “I didn’t come bearing good news.”
“What… what do you mean?” Sage asked, crestfallen.
“Look, I tried to keep her as long as I could,” Rhoda began.
“Oh no,” Sage said, leaning against the nearest hardcover display table. “Don’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry, Sage, I had to let Dana go last night.”
“Shoot,” Sage said, the disappointment welling up in her. “Shoot, shoot, shoot! What happened?”
“I had a few customers complain about loose change and bills going missing,” Rhoda said, face stern. “Nothing major, and they couldn’t be sure, but that’s just the beginning. When I went to confront her, Dana was drunk. We’re talking, belligerent, two fist pumps away from passing out. When she did, I took little Archie and had him sleep with me…”
“Oh no,” Sage said, shaking her head as her heart pounded with fright. “It’s worse than I thought. Where… where are they now?”
“She’s better now,” Rhoda said. “I gave them until tomorrow to clear out their stuff, but… I thought you should know so you could find somewhere else for them to stay. I know the Seagull Inn has vacancies, and Randy Scott, the manager there, is a little more… indulgent… than I am.”
Sage clenched her jaw and shook her head. “Nope,” she said, resolutely. “Not gonna happen. I’m not going to call in anymore markers for Derek’s baby mama.”
She bit her tongue the minute the words left her mouth, watching Rhoda’s face spasm as she liter
ally gasped. “You mean… Archie… is Derek’s?”
“Why do you think I’m fiddling with that little tramp anyway?” Sage huffed, almost relieved now that the cat was out of the bag and she could tell someone other than, well… Derek.
“Well, I didn’t want to say, but…”
They drifted to the café counter, Sage making iced coffees for them both, topping Rhoda’s with whipped cream, nutmeg and cinnamon the way she liked. While Rhoda sipped, she drew out two toffee scones and slid them between them.
“Did you know?” Rhoda asked, licking whip cream off her lip. “About Dana, I mean?”
“She showed up on our doorstep the night I called you,” Sage sighed. “I would have never involved you, I just… I panicked.”
“You know I’d let her stay on if I could, Sage, but… stealing from people’s rooms? Even in small amounts, that opens me up to huge liability issues.”
Sage waved a hand. “Don’t even go there,” she said. “I feel horrible.”
Rhoda finished her coffee and scone, standing from the counter and winking. “Don’t,” she said. “I run a hotel. It happens.”
“Yeah, well…” Sage bagged up a stack of books and forced them on her as they walked to the door. “I owe you big time, Rhoda.”
“No, you don’t Sage. Derek owes you big time.”
Sage chuckled. “I won’t argue with you there.”
“Speaking of the devil,” Rhoda said, hustling the other way as Derek approached, looking radiant in khaki cargo pants and a simple blue tank top. He had a red cap on, faded, and white sunglasses.
“Hey,” he said, clueless, as she dragged him inside.
“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” she huffed, smelling the sea and fresh air on his skin as they drifted to the café counter.
“What now?” he groaned, as if it was her fault all this was happening.
“That was Rhoda who just left here.”
He took off his sunglasses. “And?”
“The manager of the Seaside Motel?” she reminded him. “Dana got fired from her housekeeping job, which she had for all of three days, and she’s kicking her out tomorrow.”
“What for?” Derek asked, again, as if it was all Rhoda’s fault.
“She was stealing from people’s rooms, Derek. And when Rhoda went to confront her, she was drunk. So… yeah, do you blame her?”
He sighed, slumping into a seat at the counter. She relented, feeling his pain, and poured him an iced coffee as well. “No, I don’t,” he groaned, nibbling at the scone Sage never got around to eating. “I was just hoping we wouldn’t have to cross this bridge so soon.”
“Which bridge?”
“You know,” Derek sighed, looking at her with that golden, youthful glow of his. “The one where you decide to quit asking your friends in Seaside for favors and decide she needs to stay with one of us.”
She chuckled, leaning across the counter from him. “Well, do you blame me?”
“No, I just… so what? Now they have to stay with me?”
“They’re your family,” she said, slapping him playfully on the forearm.
“That I just met,” he insisted. “But you’re right. I suppose they should stay in our place.”
“Oh no,” she chuckled, wagging a finger and leaning back from him. “There’s no more ‘our’ place, buddy boy!”
“What do you mean?” he huffed. “They obviously can’t stay in your place unsupervised.”
“I didn’t say they could, or would,” Sage said. “I’m moving back upstairs for awhile and, frankly, I don’t think it’s safe for Archie to be with her mother, so… I think he should stay with me for awhile.”
Derek frowned. “You think he’ll go for that?”
Sage wondered herself, but not for long. After all, she’d only just thought of the idea. “I’ll go out tonight and get some kid-friendly DVDs and PJs and teddy bears so cute, he won’t be able to resist.”
His hand slid atop hers, warm and full of intent. “Want some company?”
“I’d love it,” she confessed, “but you’re going to need to make your place safe for Dana, remember?”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s clearly an addict, Derek,” she said. “You need to go through your place. Get rid of the wine, the booze, the beer, any little miniature bottles, whatever might have alcohol in it.” When he looked confused, even paralyzed, she squeezed his forearm. “You need to help her, honey. She’s the mother of your son.”
He sighed, nodding as he stood. “Fine,” he said. “But… what about us?”
She winked. “Us will have to wait until we get Dana in a place where she can take care of little Archie on her own.”
“When will that be?”
They lingered in the doorway, the sun warm on their skin. “As long as it takes, babe. That’s what families do.”
He winked. “They’re my family,” he insisted. “You don’t have to go through all this.”
“I do if I care about you,” she said. “And I do, so… go do your homework, I’ll go do mine and let’s both get a good night’s sleep tonight. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a very busy day!”
Chapter 8:
Derek
Dana drifted from the shower, carefree in her nakedness, keenly aware that Derek stood in the doorway, looking away. “What’d you say?” she asked, using her towel to dry her auburn hair instead of her damp, dewy body.
He smirked, his back to her even as he regarded her reflection in the hallway mirror facing him. “I asked if you wanted to have dinner with Archie and Sage tonight?”
She grunted, drifting closer as the scent of her lilac and jasmine body wash wafted along with her. “It’s our first night alone,” she said, sliding a hand onto Derek’s shoulder. “Can’t we enjoy it?”
He turned, inching back to avoid contact. Her body was flawless, young and lean and pale. Her bush was carefully trimmed, a stark red against her full, damp mound. Her breasts were full and pendulous, rosy nipples taut and tender and close enough to touch.
“I didn’t think it would be a hardship to have dinner with your son.”
“With our son,” she corrected him, leaning saucily in the doorway, one hip resting against the door jam. “And I’ve had dinner with him every night for nearly five years, Derek.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, putting his hands up in defense as he turned to walk back downstairs. “But put some clothes on, okay?”
“Spoil sport,” she called after him, padding away on bare feet as he climbed back downstairs. Turning up the reggae and reaching for a beer, he remembered that he’d gotten rid of every drop of alcohol in the house, replacing it with every brand of soda, seltzer water and fruit juice known to man. He sighed and grabbed a coconut-flavored seltzer, putting some water on to boil a box of whole wheat pasta.
In another sauce pan, he mixed a jar of organic spaghetti sauce with a can of Italian style diced tomatoes and mushroom stems and pieces until it simmered alongside the boiling spaghetti. While a bag of garlic bread roasted in the oven, he improvised a pitcher of sangria by combining cranberry, mango and apple juice over crushed ice.
He was just melting fresh parmesan cheese in the microwave when she emerged at the foot of the stairs, dressed but barely in a sundress with, clearly, nothing beneath. She had blossomed during her time in Seaside, her face healthier and sun-kissed, body aglow with the recent shower, movements lithe and limber as he’d remembered in high school.
Derek would have been lying to himself if he denied the raw, chemical, physical attraction. He was hard in his shorts, just thinking about her obvious promise of hot, sweaty, consensual, unattached sex. He wanted to fuck her all the ways he didn’t fuck Sage: Fast and dirty, unrelenting and oblivious of her feelings. That’s how he’d remembered it in high school, anyway, and she hardly seemed a demanding lover in the way she kept throwing herself at him.
He and Sage made love. Long, tender, fulfilling love. Eager, hopeful, sweaty, se
xy love, sometimes even down and dirty frantic love. But always… love. He hadn’t had sex, pure, animal, “don’t care who it’s with” fucking in… well, since he’d cheated on Sage with her assistant manager, Colby.
That had nearly cost him the love of his life, and the thought of putting Sage through that again was the only thing that keep Derek from bending Dana over the nearest counter and making good on the sexual innuendo that dripped from her every glance, word and movement.
“Smells good,” she said, sitting on the far side of the kitchen counter where he’d set up two plates and the pitcher of juice. “What’s this?” she asked, zooming in on it immediately.
He smirked. “Alcohol-free sangria.”
She made a face, as cute as it was frustrating. “Blecchh!”
“Come on, Dana, work with me here,” he said, plating their spaghetti and garlic bread. “You don’t think I’d like to have a big, fat glass of dry cabernet with this meal?”
She made big eyes, licking her full lips. “Sounds delightful,” she said, crossing her legs amorously as he sat next to her. “Where is it?”
“At the neighbor’s house,” he grumbled. “Along with every other drop of alcohol I ever had in the house. You’d think the guy had just won the lottery or something when I showed up with two whole boxes earlier today.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, picking at her dinner listlessly. “I just got a little carried away at the hotel, Derek. That old witch didn’t need to kick me out.”
“Bullshit!” Derek spat, frustrated with her willingness to play the victim, and her unwillingness to accept responsibility for her own actions. “You were stealing out of people’s rooms, Dana.”
She shrugged, like it was no big deal. “I didn’t say I wasn’t drinking, Derek,” she said, nibbling on a crust of bread. “I just said it wasn’t as bad as all that.”
“But stealing?”
“It was a few bucks here and there until I got paid,” she huffed, shoving her plate away without having touched her dinner.
He knew the feeling, suddenly having lost his appetite. Standing abruptly, he ignored the swollen breasts pressing against her clingy sundress and stood on the other side of the counter, pouring himself some of the improvised sangria. It was sweet, but not as bad now that the ice had melted.
Waves of Desire Page 3
