If We Leap: A What If Prequel

by Nina Lane

  “Once you were in the woods looking for pinecones to make bird feeders. You were about ten years old, and you were upset because you said they were all either smashed or shaped wrong. You wanted to find the perfect pinecone, symmetrical and with wide scales so you could put peanut butter and birdseed between them. And I found you the perfect pinecone.”

  “Oh.” My eyes widened. “Of course. Cole Danforth, I swear you had a crush on me like I had one on you. Thirteen-year-old boys don’t give perfect pinecones to girls they don’t like.”

  He scowled, a slight flush cresting his cheekbones. “You were ten.”

  “But I was an adorable woodland elf, remember?” I held up my hands in a promise not to push the issue, even though I couldn’t stop smiling.

  Cole’s scowl eased as he rummaged through his backpack. He pulled out an orange and dug his thumbnail into the skin. The sweet citrus smell filled the air. With methodical grace, he peeled off the rind, exposing the ripe juicy flesh.

  Just watching the movement of his long fingers caused my pulse to increase. Oh, he could fondle and touch me with such delicious expertise…

  He dropped the peel into a bag in his backpack, broke the orange into sections, and handed me half. I scooted his towel, which he’d told me to use since I hadn’t brought one, back into the shade of an overhanging rock.

  “I don’t tan like you.” I slipped a wedge of orange into my mouth. “My mom’s the same way. We both have really pale skin and burn in the sun.”

  “I saw your mom’s exhibit at the museum.” Cole moved back to join me in the shade. “I don’t know much about art, but her paintings were incredible.”

  I smiled. “She creates works about female empowerment, mysticism, and spirituality. She’s very centered, into meditation and yoga. Which makes it especially interesting that she married my dad, who works at the post office, writes books about the seventeenth-century colonization of Castille, and doesn’t know Zen from transcendental.”

  “I remember your dad once came to my history class in high school to teach a unit about the history of Maine. He was a great teacher. It was probably the one time I was actually interested and did the work.”

  He bit into an orange slice. A drop of juice trickled down his chin. I wanted to lick it away. He drew his hand over his mouth and glanced at me, wariness clouding his expression.

  “I’ve mostly outgrown my teenaged reputation,” he said. “But I still get shit sometimes, especially because my father has made it known that I’ve cut him off. Now everyone feels sorry for him because his horrible, ungrateful son wants nothing to do with him. I don’t care anymore, but I don’t want you to get caught in the middle of any crap.”

  “I won’t.” I ate the last section of orange and wiped my fingers on my bare thigh. “But even if I did, I wouldn’t care.”

  “I would.”

  My heart softened and tightened at the same time. “You don’t have to worry about protecting me, Cole. Especially from you.”

  The troubled look in his eyes didn’t dissipate. I scooted closer and rested my palm on his shoulder, loving the sensation of his smooth, taut skin. I wanted to explore every inch of him, to run my fingers over his muscular chest, find all the slopes and planes of his body, reach down into his swimming trunks and—

  A shiver raced over my skin.

  “Listen.” I slid my hand down to his chest. “You might be overthinking this. It’s okay if we like each other and want to have fun together. We can have a summer fling.”

  He frowned. “I’d never think of you as a fling.”

  “Then how about a leap?”

  Cole shook his head and laughed. “Oh, you’re a leap all right, Josie Mays. For me, a quantum leap forward.”

  And for me, Cole Danforth was a leap of faith. I didn’t know if he’d ever have the same intensity of feelings for me that I did for him, or if anything would come of our future, but I believed in him hard enough to take the chance.

  I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, sticky and sweet from the orange. My blood heated. Restraint wound through him for an instant before he brought his hand to the back of my neck. He eased my mouth open with his. It was a kiss of citrus, sunshine, river water.

  I trailed my fingers over his chest, traced the ridges of his abdomen. He slid his hand up my bare thigh and beneath the hem of my T-shirt. Pulse racing, I tugged my shirt up farther to give him easier access. He cupped my breast, rubbing my stiff nipple through my bra, his breath hot and fast against my lips.

  “Maybe I had a crush on you when I was thirteen,” he murmured. “But I definitely have one on you now.”

  White-capped waves lifted my heart. He slipped his hand lower and curled his fingers into the elastic of my panties. A shudder coursed through him. Our kiss deepened in intensity, tongues seeking, lips caressing. He lowered me onto the towel and moved his mouth to my neck, licking the hot hollow of my throat. I closed my eyes, letting myself slip into our growing passion. So easy, this kind of falling.

  I drove my hand into his hair and pulled him closer. Our bodies pressed together, my nipples rubbing against his hard chest, his leg settling heavily over mine.

  My heart hammered. Arousal coiled in my lower body. He loosened his grip on my panties just enough to slip one finger beneath them. The instant his forefinger brushed against my damp folds, I almost bolted upright with pleasure.

  A guttural noise rasped from his throat. He nudged his hips against my thigh, and—holy shit—the hard pressure of his erection sent both my shock and arousal skyrocketing. Even through his swimming trunks, he felt astonishingly large, throbbing with heat. Part of me couldn’t imagine him holding my legs open and pushing his big cock into me, while at the same time I’d never wanted anything more in my life.

  My heart raced with both trepidation and excitement. He settled his mouth over mine again, working his finger gently up and down my pussy. Every nerve in my body tensed with sweet, aching need.

  “God, Cole.” I broke my lips from his to pull in a breath. “That feels so good.”

  I’d touched myself countless times, but this was a thousand sensations spinning me into a whirlwind. The caress of his lips, the weight of his powerful body, the scent of him...I lost myself in the dizzying vortex and never wanted to be found again.

  He pressed his lips to my shoulder, biting down on my collarbone. Electricity sizzled in my veins. Tension spiraled in my core and tightened, building toward an intense bliss I knew instinctively would be like nothing I’d ever experienced before.

  Cole glided his fingers down to my opening, easing one finger, then another slowly inside. I shivered. Sudden unease clouded my arousal. I wanted him so badly, and with so much of myself—my heart, my mind, my body. So why was I locking up at the simple penetration of his fingers?

  As if sensing my withdrawal, he stopped and pulled his hand away from me. “Christ, Josie, I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s not you.” A hot flush of embarrassment rose to my cheeks.

  “I went too fast.” Self-disgust darkened his eyes. He moved away from me, tugging my T-shirt back down over my hips, his jaw clenching. “I didn’t mean to…you’re just so perfect, and touching you is like…what the hell is that movie about the chocolate factory?”

  “Willy Wonka?” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Touching me is like being in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory?”

  “Yes. I mean, no…goddammit.” He shoved a frustrated hand through his hair and expelled a heavy breath. “I mean, it’s like being in a place where everything is so sweet and amazing that I never want to leave. A place where dreams come true. You taste so damned good and you feel so incredible that I want to…to dive right into you and stay there forever. I’m so fucking greedy for you that it’s like—”

  “I’m a virgin.” The confession popped out. My heart jammed into my throat.

  Cole jerked his head around to stare at me. “A virgin.”

  “That’s why I freaked out a lit
tle. It had nothing to do with you, I promise.” I gathered my courage and rested my hand on his thigh. “Not only do I have a major crush on you, I really want you. And even though virginity is a social construct contributing to control of women and—”

  “Uh, what?”

  “Never mind.” I waved a dismissive hand. “My point is that I really want to have sex with you and I just got a little nervous because…well, you’re Cole Danforth. I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. And honestly, the reality of you, of my wish coming true, is a little overwhelming.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. He shook his head, his shoulders tensing. “What if I’m like my father?”

  Startled, I drew back. “What are you talking about?”

  “He always gave me shit about having inherited my mother’s so-called illness.” He dragged a hand down his face. “But what if it’s the other way around? What if, deep inside, I’m like him?”

  “You listen to me.” I grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at me. “You are nothing like your father. You never will be. I’ve known you since we were kids, and I’ve only ever had the best feelings for you. So don’t you dare insult either me or yourself by thinking for one second that your father has any influence on you whatsoever. You got away from him. You’re incredibly strong, brave, and resourceful, and if you have one fault it’s that you don’t believe you’re worthy of good things. That you deserve them.”

  He opened his mouth. To prevent him from arguing, I leaned forward to kiss him. Our lips clung for less than a minute before he pulled away, his breathing rapid.

  “I’m doing a lousy job of resisting you,” he muttered.

  “Then stop trying.”

  He ran his hand over my hair. A shield descended over his features again, like he was closing himself off.

  “I’ll walk you back to your car.” He pushed to his feet and reached for his backpack. “I need to get to work soon.”

  My throat tightened. I turned to fold the towel. When I glanced up, I caught him staring at me. For an instant, less than a blink, his shield was gone. In its place was an expression of such intense longing and need that my heart skipped a thousand beats.

  He averted his gaze, a dull flush rising to his cheeks. Hitching his backpack over his shoulder, he started toward the cliff. I followed. A tiny hope nudged through my dismay.

  What if I could show him how much he deserved to be loved?

  Chapter 5

  Cole

  * * *

  The sun burned a hole in the sky, radiating off the water. Ten hours at sea, and not for an instant had Josie left my thoughts as I prepped bait, hauled up lobster traps, and sifted through the day’s catch. Hard as I found it to believe that she’d be okay with a summer fling—and as much as I could never think of her as one—I latched on to the idea like a barnacle.

  Because if I lied to myself and got together with her for a fling, then I could indulge in her for the next month. And indulge I would, like diving headfirst into a pile of sugary whipped cream or a chocolate river.

  Then what happens? You make a mess and don’t clean it up. And what if you can’t walk away from her at the end of this so-called fling?

  I had no idea. That girl was my every weakness. My Achilles’ heel, the chink in my armor, my kryptonite. I’d trailed after her when I was eleven. Now I was ready to fall to my knees and grovel after her. No matter how many times I told myself to stay away.

  It was like I was parched with thirst, dripping with sweat, burned by the sun. Standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down into a pool of cool, fresh water.

  How could I resist taking the leap?

  Ignoring my apprehension, I finished hosing down the deck just as the boat approached the harbor. After we were moored, I climbed onto the dock and got ready to offload the four hundred pounds of lobster we’d hauled up from the traps.

  One by one, we transferred the lobster from the live-tank to a tote, where they were weighed and calculated. I collected my pay—a shitty amount for a full day’s work since the price of lobster had decreased. I headed back home to shower and change for a night operating carnival games.

  I’d need a third job this year. The Marine Sciences TA and research positions were all given to grad students, but I might be able to find work in the department. Despite my two jobs, I was in significant debt from student loans. Interning at the Marine Institute after graduation wouldn’t help relieve my finances. I’d have to reduce my debt before I could even consider applying to grad schools.

  As I approached the boathouse, my spine tensed. A tall, bulky man stood at the end of the dock, partly shaded by the harbor sign. Every muscle in my body locked into place. I hadn’t seen my father for months.

  I stopped, eyeing his craggy features and thinning hair with a hatred I no longer wanted to hide. “What do you want?”

  “Hello to you, too.”

  Fuck you.

  I flexed my hands. “I’ve got stuff to do.”

  “I just need a minute.” He raked his gaze over my dirty jeans and torn T-shirt. “Your twenty-third birthday is coming up.”

  “And?”

  “I expected you to come talk to me about your trust fund.”

  Right. I’d haul lobster traps until my hands bled before I’d go to my father for my trust fund, a percentage of which was to be doled out to me when I turned twenty-three. The fund had been set up by my paternal grandfather, and my father was the designated trustee. That meant he was the one who ensured the allocation of the money.

  Nothing would make me give him that kind of power.

  “I don’t want my trust fund.”

  “No?” He lifted his eyebrows. “You’re crazier than your mother if you turn down this kind of financial security.”

  Anger clawed up my chest. I struggled to push it back down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he could still get to me.

  “Guess I’m a mama’s boy, then,” I remarked coldly.

  He laughed, humorless and rough. “No kidding. I always worried you’d inherited her mental instability.”

  I wanted to stalk past him, but he was blocking the path to the boathouse. If I got near him, I’d take him down. Much as I wanted to feel his bones cracking under my fists, he’d have me arrested for assault and battery. Knowing his influence with the police and court system…I’d stand no chance. And I sure as hell wouldn’t ruin my future for him.

  “Look.” He held up his hands, as if he was trying to placate me. “I know you’re struggling. And this trust fund isn’t a couple thousand dollars. It’s a significant fortune, funded by shareholder investments your grandfather made. As long as you don’t squander it, you’ll be set for a very long time, if not life. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

  Whatever I want. Much as I tried to block it, that phrase slithered past my defenses.

  “You can donate it to charity,” I said. “Keep it. I don’t give a shit.”

  “What about your girl?”

  My blood iced. “What?”

  “My lead brewer saw you kissing some little hottie at the pier. Figured she was your new girlfriend. Is it serious?”

  Disgust choked my throat. “None of your fucking business.”

  “Okay. I’m just saying, you could treat her well with this money.” He took a folded paper out from beneath his arm and extended it to me.

  Hating myself for taking the bait, I grabbed it and opened it. The legal letter outlined the terms of the trust and the allocation of the full amount.

  I froze. Significant fortune. Three million dollars. The trust was set up to deliver the full amount to me by the time I turned twenty-five.

  I crumpled the letter in my fist. I’d had to contend with a shitty, abusive father my whole life. No amount of money could make up for that.

  So why don’t you throw this fucking letter back at him?

  “Take some time and read through the details.” My father flicked a hand toward the paper. “Talk to the lawyer.
Think about it.”

  I almost told him to go fuck himself. But the insult stuck in my chest.

  He smirked, as if he knew I was waging a sudden internal war. As if he sensed it.

  “Stop by my office on your birthday. We’ll talk.” He strolled away, hands in his pockets. “I look forward to our chat.”

  Anger burned my veins. I stalked back to the boathouse, the letter clutched in my sweaty fist.

  * * *

  “Jolly Rancher?” Josie’s voice, sweet and silky, rubbed right up against my skin.

  I turned. The bright, multicolored carnival lights and bustling crowd faded into nothing. All I saw was her—full mouth curved into a tentative smile, leaf-green eyes warmly fixed on me.

  “What are you doing here?” I tried to put some force into my voice and failed.

  “Waiting for your shift to end.” She extended the open bag of Jolly Ranchers. “This is a new bag, so there’s plenty of cherry.”

  I picked out a green apple-flavored candy and unwrapped it.

  “You don’t like the cherry ones?” Josie asked.

  “The only time I want to taste cherry is when I kiss you.”

  Nice. Flirting is a great way to stay away from her.

  My regret vanished when an appealing flush colored her cheeks, and her eyes lit with pleasure. She was so damned cute. And she was good. Sweet and pure. I’d never forget the way she looked at me after I stepped in to get her Halloween candy back. In the ten years since that day, no one else had ever looked at me like that.

  “Can we try this again?” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I would hate to think I scared you away because of my…cherry.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “Actually what scares me is how much I like you.”

  She smiled. “I’m a very safe bet, Cole Danforth. When does your shift end?”

  “Another hour. I’ll text you when I’m done.”

  My heart constricted as I watched her walk away. In a pair of blue shorts, her perfect dumpling ass swayed back and forth, and her hair bounced against her shoulders. Heat pooled in my groin.