by Mia Kerick
I nod.
“It means I gotta take a risk. To wonder and to worry if you give a damn too.”
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
“You give a shit, about me, don’t ya?”
“I really do. I didn’t expect to, or even want to. It just snuck up on me,” I admit.
“That’s how it happened to me too.”
“Bodie, we have to try, at least, to put words to some of the stuff we hold inside. And I mean both of us.”
“We do, if we want shit to work out,” he adds.
To this point, we’ve focused our attention on the dog between us. But I turn toward Bodie, touch his chin, hoping to see his soulful, golden gaze. I only have to wait a few seconds for my reward. “I want it to work with us,” I say.
He sighs, as if resigned to his new fate. “Have I told you that I think you’re…” His voice trails away, like always. But he sighs and redeems himself. “I think you’re the prettiest person I ever laid eyes on.”
His honesty surprises me. I lean in and kiss him—a brief, chaste kiss. It’s not a well-thought out action; it’s more of a spontaneous response to his honesty. And he doesn’t clench his teeth or tighten his shoulders at my gesture. He leans over Hugo and returns it.
“What happened last night that made you so mad?” This, however, is Bodie’s true test. Will he even try to open up to me about what happened to upset him so much last night?
Bodie stands and descends the few steps so his bare feet are planted in the grass. Gazing up at me, he is truly a spectacular sight. As I await his reply, his perfectly bronzed and sculpted chest, brushed lightly with auburn curls, grabs my attention better than art in a gallery.
“The guy who messed with me when I was a kid made me feel…” Bodie draws in a long breath. And a painful one, judging by his grimace. Again, I wonder if this is the extent of his response, but he continues. “Hard to put the words to it. But I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you,” I respond, my voice barely more than a whisper.
“Since the man, Brian Wilkins was his name, did shit to me I didn’t ask for, back when I was a kid…well, ever since then, I don’t appreciate…” This is nearly impossible for him to verbalize. “I don’t appreciate suggestive comments. Ya know—filthy words and such, being used about me.”
“About your body?”
He nods. “And about what Jack wants to do to my body.”
As it dawns on me what enraged Bodie last night, I leap to my feet. “That asshole came on to you again…” And probably graphically, if I know Jack Wheeler. I can’t control my rage at Jack, but even more so at myself for ever accepting him as a lover. “He’s a piece of shit!”
“Maybe so. But he’s a piece of shit that pays you. So you can own a place like this.” He gestures toward the cottage. “So you can feed him.” He points at Hugo. “So you can take care of yourself.”
I sigh because Bodie’s absolutely right. “Jack’s in control, to a great extent—of both of us. Financially speaking.”
“Yeah, Ollie, but I can up and leave. Start over somewhere else. But you can’t—you got roots here.”
“Did Jack say he plans to fire one of us?”
“Not in so many words. He’s just more pissed than I can tell you. It’s fucked-up.”
I sit back down on the steps and sigh. “Well, thanks for telling me what happened.” In truth, all I now know is that Jack propositioned Bodie. I’m still not fully certain of how Bodie responded.
“There’s more I want to say on that subject.”
“About you and Jack?”
“Nah, about me and you.”
I brace myself, quite literally; this is groundbreaking territory. “There is?”
“Yep. About the control thing you just mentioned.”
“What is it?” I ask, allowing myself to be distracted from the problem between Bodie and Jack.
“On account of what happened when I was a kid…” He turns and gazes out over the street. And I take the opportunity to study his broad back, the rippling muscles, the powerful beauty of it. Beauty of which he seems completely unaware. “When we’re in bed. I need…”
The pace of my breathing increases, but I force myself to stay silent and not to help him through this moment. He needs to do it on his own. “You probably notice, ya know, in bed, that I gotta be doing something, and I don’t just let things happen to me.” He ruffles his mop of curls, deep in thought. “It gives me control, so I can get into what we’re doing.”
“That makes sense.”
Bodie rockets around to look at me, shocked by my easy acceptance. “Ya think?” Eyes wide, lips curved, he looks so hopeful. “Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But can you live with it?”
“Of course. Now that I understand.”
Bodie takes the stairs in a few short steps. He places his hands on the sides of my face and bends to kiss me. When he opens his eyes to look at me, they’re bright and damp.
“Now I have a question.” Baring your soul is truly no picnic. But since Bodie did it, so will I.
“I hope I can answer it well.”
“All I expect from you is as much honesty as you can give me, Bodie.”
“Then ask away.” He sits on the steps beside me.
I decide to take the direct route. “Do you plan to leave Gillamour Island in September?”
“It’s when my job ends, Oliver.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“Our rental agreement ends then too.” I glance at him, he’s grinning. “Don’t wanna be homeless—where would I ever live?” He winks.
“I think we can figure something out.” I wink back.
When he takes me in his arms, his furry chest pressed to my smooth one, and our hearts finally aligned, I accept this as my answer. Bodie’s going to stay.
Chapter 15
Life feels lighter now that Bodie and I are a couple. Not that we’ve spoken any words to affirm this. It’s just something that is.
“July fourth is supposed to be a beach day, huh, Ollie?”
Bodie finishes up our breakfast dishes, and I watch him as I sip coffee at the kitchen table. “It is. You want to spend today at Pendle Beach?”
“Have you looked at the sky? It’s bright blue, like the sign on Ivory Tower.” He grins. “It’d be a crime to keep Hugo from the beach on a fine day like this.”
“Okay, then. I’ll fix us some beachy drinks. You make lunch.”
“Sounds like a plan. Fifteen minutes and we’ll head out?”
“I’d better get busy.”
We go about the business of preparing for a new day—a holiday, no less. It’s never boring when we’re together. Time treasured, for both of us.
Bodie and I meet on the deck with a packed cooler—cocktails to pour and sandwiches to share. And Hugo, tail wagging as always, ready for the day’s adventure. We cross the street and step onto the beach. Bodie chooses a spot close to the water to spread out our blanket and place the cooler in the sand
There are only a few other people on the beach, which is nice. Bodie and I hold hands as we follow Hugo into the surf. The water’s frigid, not unusual even in July, but still we strip off our T-shirts, toss them on the sand, and take the plunge.
When we come together in the waves, Bodie wraps me in his arms. “You probably wonder why I can’t keep my hands off you.” His voice is gruff.
“It never crossed my mind. But I don’t mind at all.”
I love it when he laughs. On the rare moments he allows it, it’s the sound of freedom. And hard-earned freedom, at that. “You sure know what to say, Ollie.”
“Too bad we have to work tonight. It would’ve been fun to watch the fireworks over the harbor at midnight.”
“Got a better idea.”
“You do? And what’s that?” He’s grinning now, in the charming way that snags my full attention every time.
“Thought maybe we could make our o
wn fireworks when our shift is over.” Now he’s blushing.
“That’s, uh…”
“Sappy as hell,” he completes my thought.
“Maybe. But I like the concept.”
“So, our own private fireworks show tonight, then?” he asks.
“How do you expect me to focus on work when I have that to look forward to?”
Bodie finally releases me from his arms. “Guess you’ll have to figure out a way.”
“You enjoy torturing me.”
“You’re right.”
He may be having fun by teasing me, but I really do wish I could fast forward time until tonight’s private fireworks show.
The bar is jammed. The customers are rowdy. And thirsty. Sam called in sick, so we’re down one waiter. And Jack is wasted. Which means he’s acting obnoxious.
“God, do I wish I could fast forward time,” I tell Mika as I fill what seems like the thousandth bucket of Buds. And it’s still an hour until closing time.
“I take it you’ve got plans tonight?” She nudges me with her elbow and points at the door where Bodie is negotiating with an older couple. A fairly well-intoxicated older couple. Who don’t seem very happy with whatever Bodie’s telling them.
“Nothing specific,” I lie, glad for the darkness. She’d surely notice my blush in the daylight.
“I need two gin and tonics and a whiskey sour,” calls Jared as he swipes a stack of napkins from the bar top and swabs the perspiration from his forehead. “And fast—Jack’s entertaining again.”
I whip up the three drinks in no time at all.
Jared’s attention is caught by what’s going on near the door. My eyes follow his gaze to Jack, who’s literally hanging between the two men Bodie was just talking to. Before I look away, Jack tumbles from between the men and flies headfirst into Bodie. Bodie pushes Jack off him and hunches over with the shock of the blow. He doesn’t appear injured and leans to pick up Jack from the sticky floor. The two older men hover around them.
Soon a crowd forms. Shouts erupt, and the staggering motion that typically accompanies a bar brawl begins. It’s been quite a while since Surf’s Up has hosted a brawl, as Bodie keeps the scene, for the most part, under control. But not tonight.
I need to help Bodie, so I grab the two gin and tonics in my hands, balance the whiskey sour between them, and dash into the crowd. Liquid pitches over the rims of the glasses, but this is far from my greatest concern. My goal is distraction. Get to ground zero of this scuffle—Jack and the two older men—and distract them with booze.
Once I reach the crowd, I see Bodie struggling to put the room in order. Actually, he’s not so much struggling, as he’s forcibly separating bodies. It’s pretty impressive. He lifts some, shoves others, and merely grunts at the less aggressive ones, sending them running. Within a few minutes he finds the bottom of the pile, where the two drunken friends of Jack have fallen, with Jack curled up beneath them.
“Get off the floor, Wheeler,” Bodie barks and for the second time in ten minutes helps him to his feet.
“You shoulda stopped the brawling before it even started, you dumbass!” This is the thanks Bodie receives for saving Jack from being crushed. “I don’t know why I even pay your lazy ass for doing nothin’ ’round here!”
Despite the fact that he’s being called out in a drunken rant, Bodie’s face falls. He’s actually listening to Jack’s words. Absorbing them.
“Jack,” I say as I step up to them. “I brought drinks for you and your friends.” I force a smile. Probably an unconvincing one, but Jack’s too drunk to notice or care.
The two men who’d been keeping Jack on his feet prior to the fight stumble to me and grab the gin and tonics from my hands.
Jack snatches the whiskey sour and mutters, “And here’s another useless employee.”
Bodie’s eyes narrow in anger. “You’re dead wrong. Oliver runs this place for you.”
Jack leers at me. “Thought he called you ‘Ollie.’”
God, do I detest air quotes.
Time for a little reminder. “This is ridiculous, Jack,” I venture. “We’re all on the same team here.”
“Rah! Rah! Rah! Go Surf’s Up!” Jack bellows, pounding the air with his fist. “You guys like our team cheer?”
He looks to his friends for a response, which he quickly receives. One yells, “We’re the pig pile team of Gillamour Island!”
“Don’t you think it’s time to take your private party to the employee lounge?” I suggest, having had enough of Jack’s drunken games. I need to get back to work if I ever want to close this place. I turn away from Jack to make my way to the bar, but he grasps my wrist and flings me around, so we’re eye to eye.
An image of Dale’s pissed off grimace forms in my head, and a drop of sweat rolls down my back. My breathing is suddenly unsteady. I yank my arm, frantic to get free, but he holds on tight. “You waltz ’round here like you own the place.” Jack’s fingers dig into my arm. “You need to show me some respect.”
Bodie steps so close to Jack they’re probably fighting for oxygen. “Take your fuckin’ paw offa him, Wheeler. Won’t say it again.”
“What’re you gonna do? Kick your own boss’s ass?” Jack stands straighter and grips me tighter.
His drinking buddies nearly fall down with laughter. One tugs on Bodie’s shirt. “From what I know about Jack, he’d rather you fuck his ass.”
Bodie doesn’t even bother to warn the guy. He shoves him so viciously his backside cuts a path through the gawking crowd. And then Bodie snarls like some kind of wild animal and rips Jack’s hand from my arm. Jack, refusing to let go, scrapes his fingernails across the underside of my wrist.
Bodie’s eyes are immediately drawn to the bloody scratch marks. His expression morphs from bitter to bleak. “He scratched you.”
Jack is quick to retort, “Yeah—and you made me do it!”
Once again, Bodie’s my first concern. “I’m fine—it’s nothing. Now let’s get this bar closed down.” I press my arm against my shirt to stop the bleeding and to hide the damage from Bodie. I lean close to him and say, “Remember the fireworks you promised me.”
Bodie isn’t distracted. He steps past me. “You and me, Wheeler. Outside—now!”
“No, Bodie.” I move in front of him. “Jack’s wasted. If you try to teach him a lesson tonight, you’ll end up killing him.”
Reluctantly, he nods, recognizing the truth in my words. He turns to Jack. “You and your asshole friends—get the hell outta my sight! That is, if you like breathing.”
Jack isn’t stupid and doesn’t have a death wish. He rounds up his buddies and herds them into the employee lounge.
“Time to close this place and celebrate the fourth of July.” I smile at Bodie. He doesn’t smile back.
I worry that Bodie won’t be in the mood for “fireworks” tonight, as the scene at the bar was not conducive to romance, to put it mildly. But when he stops his bike in the driveway, he snaps out of his funk without too much trouble.
“How about we take a shower together under the stars?”
I’m surprised by his offer because he’s not always comfortable being touched and showering together suggests lathering one another up from head to toe. A very hands-on activity. Mostly, though, I’m relieved he’s willing to leave the drama from Surf’s Up behind.
“Not an offer I’m about to refuse.” I slide off the back of the bike.
“Gotta clean those marks on your arm,” he adds sourly, and for a moment I think he hasn’t gotten past his misplaced guilt. “Come on. There’s no time to waste.”
To myself alone, I admit to having profound concern about Jack’s recent hateful behavior. Why hasn’t he fired one or both of us if he’s so displeased with our work? I suspect it’s because the quality of our work isn’t the subject of Jack’s displeasure. Although we don’t flaunt our relationship at Surf’s Up, even the suspicion that we’re happy together is enough to set him off.
In
any event, I let my concerns go for tonight. There’s nothing to be done about Jack Wheeler’s anger issues now. “No time to waste?” I quip. “Are we on a rigid schedule tonight?”
“We don’t want to be late to the fireworks, right?” The amusement in his voice is countered by the earnestness is his eyes. “Let’s let Hugo out and grab some towels.”
Five minutes later, we’re streaking across the deck, my biggest bath towels in our arms. Bodie reaches in and starts the water, and then we hover just outside the wooden shower stall in the dark, waiting for it to warm.
Bodie steps inside first and stands beneath the spray. In the moonlight, water dripping down his sculpted form, he’s something to behold. I hesitate just long enough to take him in and bask in the awe that I’m sharing my life with such a spectacular man.
He holds out a hand to me, and I take it. When he draws me to him, I move beneath the spray of water. Although facing one another, we’re not yet pressed together—he needs time to adjust to our close proximity. And so, several maddening inches separate us. I close my eyes when his fingers slide through my long hair. It seems like forever until he holds my face between his palms and bends to kiss me. It’s a captivating kiss, long and deep, and wet like the water that rains down on our heads. I fight the urge to run my hands from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist, as it’s not the right time. Not yet.
When I can stand the distance no longer, Bodie stops the kiss and steps forward, bridging the tiny gap between us. My skin has never felt so sensitized. Strong furry hardness—his chest, his groin, his thighs—bear down on me. Still, my arms dangle at my sides. I’ll know when he’s ready for my touch.
He reaches up to the top of the shower stall and the cut muscles in his arm move against my shoulder. A click and a squirt and then soapy hands massage my neck, my back, my ass.
“You’re smooth and strong and perfect, Ollie.” A short gasp of breath shoots from my chest. I never think of myself that way. “Love to touch you.”
My subsequent inhalation is shaky. “I love it when you touch me.”
