by Kat Baxter
“Yeah, I was sixteen and never been kissed. I didn’t think you needed more fodder to tease me.”
“I would have loved to have been your first kiss.”
His thumb swipes along my bottom lip, and every erogenous zone in my body goes on high alert. I swear I can almost hear alarms going off.
“I’m going to kiss you now, Ginger.”
And that’s all the warning I get before his lips brush against mine. Little nips at the corners of my mouth. He cradles my face and I melt a little.
HOLY SHIT BROCK DANIELS IS KISSING ME!
Yes, that needed to be yelled. His fingers dive into my curls, and he deepens the kiss. There’s a sexy slide of his tongue across the seam of my mouth. I don’t need any more encouragement to open my mouth. And then our tongues are together. He tilts my head and I kiss him back with ferocity. I would have loved for him to have been my first kiss too. But somehow this seems perfect.
We are full on making out while he presses me against his truck. My toes curl inside my slip-on sneakers, and I arch against him, rubbing my hard nipples against his chest. He growls into my mouth, lifts me off my feet, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Then I feel it, that hard-as-a-pipe erection against my stomach. No dysfunction here, thank you very much. I want to grind against him, but his kiss is melting my brain. So hot.
He ends the kiss and presses his forehead to mine. “Fuck, Ginger.” His voice is all growly and deep with lust and I’m pretty sure my panties have melted.
“As much as I want to fuck you right here...one, we’re in the hospital parking lot and two, we told your mom we’d do something for her.”
Voice of reason. I fucking hate the voice of reason. I try to lower my legs from his body, but he grips my thighs and bends his head to meet my gaze.
“This is not over. Do you understand me? We’re not done here.”
I swallow and nod, but my mouth seems to have forgotten how to make words. Thankfully my brain is working enough for me to agree with him that we’re not done. He’s in town for Christmas and I think having a holiday fling with him would be the very best present I could give myself.
Chapter 4
Brock
I dropped her off at her parents’ house and we both went to our respective places to change for the beach activities. We hadn’t talked much on that drive and I hadn’t touched her. I was too damn tempted to pull her into my lap and finish what we’d started.
I’m still hard from that kiss. Goddamn she felt good in my arms, her tongue on mine, the heat from her pussy pressed against my cock. Even through our clothes, I had been able feel her.
I’d gone back to my new condo to change my clothes, and thought of two things. One: fucking Ginger until neither one of us can walk. And two: our conversation at the hospital. I had ignored her the rest of that dance. I’d been so caught up in kissing Chelsea that I hadn’t been able to think beyond my hormones. But it hadn’t been a conscious decision to leave Ginger behind. I should have fought harder for our friendship. And now I found myself wanting a hell of a lot more than friendship with her.
Friendship first though.
Every once in a while, on those super rare occasions, it has gotten cold enough here in Sand Dollar to snow on the beach. That’s happened maybe twice in my twenty-four years, and both of those times were after December. So we can’t build snowmen; no, here we build sandmen.
By the time I park my truck in the Windsor Beach lot the beach is already dotted with people. I spot Ginger immediately. She’s hard to miss with her flaming red curls, even if they are currently piled on top of her head in a messy wad. Beyond that she still would catch my attention… because fuck me...
She’s wearing one of those retro bikinis I’ve seen on the old pinup girls. Navy blue with big white polka dots. My mouth waters as I scan her curves. The top ties around her neck and cradles her tits in the best way. The bottom is some kind of high-waisted tight skirt thing. I wipe my hand down my face to try and gain some control over myself because what I want to do is grab her, toss her over my shoulder and bring her home to spend the rest of the day worshiping her body. She looks hot as fuck.
Instead, I jog over to her. A good chunk of the town has come out for this event and there are a lot of kids here. I flip my cap around backwards. I don’t want anything blocking my view of her. When I reach her side I can’t not touch her so I wrap my hand around her bare bicep. Her skin is warm and impossibly soft. I lean down to her ear.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
She looks at me with a bewildered frown. “What?”
I let my eyes take in the sweet sight of her. “You look amazing in that.”
Her mouth opens in an ‘O’ but she doesn’t say anything. Then she smiles and looks away. Like she doesn’t get it. How is it even possible that she doesn’t know how hot she is? Has no man ever told her? Did that fuckhead from college never tell her she’s beautiful and sexy? Idiot.
I didn’t come back to Texas looking for a relationship. Yeah, I wanted to rekindle my friendship with Ginger, I’d missed her all these years. But right now, I want her so much that I can’t imagine NOT wanting her. I don’t know what that means for our future, but I’m ready to explore it.
“You ready to do this?” I ask her.
“Yeah. I got several of the groups started already.” She motions to the people who are already busy packing their sand with water to shape it into a snowman-looking thing.
“Miss Starr, Miss Starr, look!” a little voice behind us calls.
Ginger’s face transforms into a brilliant smile when she turns around and trots over to the kiddo calling her. I try not to notice Ginger’s ass as she moves away from me. But I fail miserably because while her bikini bottoms are a skirt from the front, it’s clearly a fake skirt. In the back they’re tight shorts that cup her rounded ass in the most wicked way. I’m pretty sure my mouth is open. I might be drooling.
Get a grip, man. She’s just a woman.
But even as I think that thought, I know it’s just not true. Ginger is different in all the best ways. And I know I’m in trouble because I’m pretty sure she’s about to change my life. As if moving back to my small Texas beach town to open an art gallery with the rest of my grandfather’s money isn’t life altering enough.
I watch her with the group of kids who called her over, and she gets down on her knees in the sand to meet them at eye level. And they talk and laugh and she points on their sandman, offering what I’m assuming are suggestions. The kids have gathered some seaweed, and they’re trying to affix it to the head.
“It’s like you!” one of them says, pointing at the swirling seaweed.
Yeah, I guess it does kinda look like her curls, only it’s green and slimy. But it’s a sweet effort. I glance around the beach and see so many of the people from town. Working together, playing together. There’s a lot about Europe that is amazing, but nothing is quite like home. I had some qualms about coming back, felt like I’d made the decision so I could be close to my parents. It doesn’t feel like that now though. It feels like I’ve made the choice for me.
She finishes with the kids and walks back to me. “Did you want to try and make one?”
My heart stops and I’m pretty sure I’m gaping at her. I look back over at the kids. Then it dawns on me that she’s not asking if I want to make a child with her, she’s asking about building a sandman. I chuckle, but don’t clue her in on my wayward thoughts.
“Nah, I really am just enjoying watching everyone else.” I rub at the back of my neck. “I don’t think I ever truly appreciated our town and the charm of our beach and all of this.” I open my arms wide then spin to face the ocean. The Gulf of Mexico is ugly compared to lots of other big bodies of water. It’s kinda greenish-brown because of the constant churning and the oil rigs, but it’s still pretty. The sand is white and full of shells.
“I love it here. Can’t imagine living anywhere else,” she says.
I reach down and
grab her hand, twining our fingers together. “Will you come over tonight? I can make us dinner.”
She turns to face me with a grin. “You cook?”
“I learned a few tricks while I was away. If that doesn’t work out, we can always order pizza.”
She bites down on her lip, and I swear I could get lost in the chocolaty depths of her eyes. “Okay.”
I squeeze her hand. “It’s cute that they’re making that one look like you.” I nod to the group of kids.
“Former students. They’re sweet kids.”
“You’re good with them.”
She shrugs. “It’s my job.”
“Nah, it’s more than that.”
“Thanks. I like kids, so it’s easy. They don’t judge me for being goofy or too short. The girls think I have princess hair and they all like that I use funny voices when I read.” She smiles. “Kids get me.”
“And you get them. You want some of your own someday?”
She looks up at me. “Yes. I’ve wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember. Used to make my mom a little nervous when I was in high school.”
I laugh and squeeze her hand again. And without even trying, I can imagine a future with her. With us. Kids, a house, my gallery. I let go of her hand and take a step back.
“Do you have any food allergies I should know about?”
“No, I’m not too picky.”
I nod.
“Can you help with carrying some of the sand and water to the new groups?” She motions to the groups that are walking up.
“Sure. I’ll see you at my place, say seven o’clock?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll text you the address.” And because I just can’t help it, I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead before I walk away.
Ginger
“So what was all that about?”
I turn to find my best friend, Annie, watching Brock’s retreating form.
I can’t help the smile on my face. In fact, it’s making my cheeks hurt a little. “We were making plans for tonight.” Then I pause, noting Annie’s face. Her normally golden complexion is a little pale and her razor straight black hair is rumpled. “You still look terrible. You feeling better at all?”
“Still a little green, but so much better. That is the last time I eat at Mr. Fu’s Buffet.” She puts her hand on her stomach.
“Thank you for coming to help me even though this is not your thing.”
“Maybe I’ll make a sand Menorah.” She grins. “What is the point of being the only Chinese Jewish woman in town if I can’t do stuff like that?”
“Have I told you lately you’re my favorite?”
“No, you have not. But I want to talk about something else.” She points down the beach a ways where Brock—now shirtless—is hauling a five-gallon bucket of water. “So a date? With Brock Daniels, your nemesis? Isn’t that what you’ve always called him?”
I blow out a breath, and tilt my head back peering at the cloudless blue sky. “He apologized. I mean, not specifically for everything he did, but he admitted he was a real dick in high school. We actually talked about all of that and it turns out I wasn’t entirely blameless.”
Her thin black eyebrows arch.
“He’s been really sweet. Especially at the hospital with my dad.”
“Oh yeah, how’s he doing?”
I roll my eyes. “Aside from my mom oversharing about his erectile problems, he’s doing great. Can’t even tell he had an episode or whatever it was.”
“That’s good. Back to Brock.” We both tilt our heads to better see the curve of his ass as he bends over to help somebody. “You’re going to go out with him?”
“He’s cooking for me. Tonight.” I have to resist the urge to do a happy dance.
“Wow, that’s sweet and romantic.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Has he kissed you?”
I cannot help how wide my smile gets. I put my hands on my cheeks. “Amazing.” It’s all I can say. I sling my arm around my best friend and pull her to me. “I’m totally going to sleep with him. Enjoy that body and his toe-curling kisses while he’s in town. I deserve a fling with a super-hot guy.” It’s totally my plan, but I can’t deny that my words feel a little false.
“OMG! He’s going to fall madly in love with you, and then the two of you are going to live happily ever after and make beautiful babies together. I’ll take all the pictures for everything.”
I laugh. “You are ridiculous. And way too much of a romantic. Though I do appreciate your photography skills.”
“Nah, I’m a realist.”
“I’m sure he’ll be back in France or wherever he’s living now before anything crazy like that happens. This is just a tryst.”
“Such a dirty word for Sand Dollar’s favorite kindergarten teacher.” She tsks her tongue.
My smile disappears, and the thought that keeps plaguing my brain surfaces. “He’s way too hot for me, but I don’t even care.”
“Bite your tongue, Ginger Starr!” Annie says with a punch to my side.
“I know, I’m fabulous. I’m comfortable with who I am, but I also know my limitations. Someday I’ll get my happy ending, it’ll just be with a regular looking guy. Someone who will totally have a dad bod in five years.”
“Oh my God, you’re so stupid. Don’t say stupid shit like that. He is not too hot for you. If anything you’re too good for him.”
“You’re just saying that because you love me.”
“I do love you, but that is completely beside the point. That man was whistling when he walked away from you. Grinning like a lovesick fool. Don’t sabotage this because of some weird misguided belief. Or because you’re believing all that bullshit that asshole Jeff told you.” She grabs both of my hands and squeezes them. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“And also promise that you’ll call me tomorrow morning and give me all the juicy details.”
“Why tomorrow morning?”
“Because the juicy details will all be happening tonight.” She waggles her eyebrows. “I’m hoping I’ll be far from your mind tonight.”
And then it hits me. I feel my eyes go wide. I’m going to get naked with him. See his naked body. We’re going to totally do naked stuff together. “I’m going to have sex with Brock.”
“One can only hope.”
Chapter 5
Ginger
It took me forever to figure out what to wear. He seemed to like my swimsuit so much I was tempted to leave it on, but I couldn’t figure out an excuse that would legitimize that choice. So instead I settled on a black halter dress with a flared skirt. It’s cute but also sexy, and the best part is its really comfortable, so I won’t be spending my time tugging on the fabric trying to cover my squishy bits.
I follow the directions to the address he texted me and I realize that it’s not a hotel. And obviously not his parent’s place because I wouldn’t have needed directions there. So I’m confused when I get to the old Barnaby’s Shoe store downtown. But I follow his instructions to go around to the side and climb the steps.
He opens the door and he’s got a dish rag slung over one shoulder. His green button-up shirt has the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And damn, I cannot be the only woman in the world who thinks that look is beyond sexy. His forearms are tanned and muscular, and there’s this vein going up one of them...and damn again. So hot.
“Wow, you look amazing.” His words ring true as does the expression on his face as his eyes eat me up.
I could get used to him looking at me like this. Brock Daniels. What is happening to my life?
Thank God he can’t hear my inner voice, he’d think I had lost my mind.
“Come in.” He moves out of the way and holds the door for me.
“Smells good in here.”
“Nothing too exciting, just some herb baked chicken and twice baked potatoes. Salad.” He puts a hand to the small of my back and leads me in. “You’re not one of those women
who doesn’t eat carbs, are you?”
I snort. “No. I probably wouldn’t look like this if I stopped eating carbs. I like bread. And potatoes. And cake.”
“You look good to me.” His voice is behind me, close to my ear and then his mouth nips at the exposed part of my shoulder.
I shiver and hold my breath a bit waiting to see if he does anything else. I’ve never had casual sex. Jeff and I waited until we’d dated a couple of weeks before we did it. So I don’t really know how this is done.
He steps away from me. “Do you want the grand tour now or after we eat?”
I glance around enough to see that while this apartment is very nice and modern, it’s a studio, just one big open space with two doors off to the back—the bathroom and closet, I’m assuming. I laugh. It’s really nice. A little too nice for a holiday stay, but it’s been so long since he’s been home, maybe he’s planning to stay for an extended period. I know that’s how Europeans do things. Their vacations are always a couple of months it seems.
“I like the exposed brick and beams.”
“Yeah, me too. Reminds me of a couple of places I’ve stayed in France.” He leads me over to the kitchen area and helps me onto a bar stool. “I don’t have room for a table so this will have to do.”
“It’s perfect. I think is bigger than my apartment. It’s definitely nicer. Then again I am a public school teacher.” My eyes go to the far side of the room where an enormous king-sized bed sits. Covered in all white linens it looks like something out of a luxury hotel. I look back at him to find him watching me. He hands me a plate and then settles on the barstool next to me with his own.
We eat in silence for a few moments.
“How’s your dad?”
“He’s good. Adjusting to his new blood pressure medicine which I guess can make him a little tired while his body gets used to it.” I take a few more bites. “This is really delicious. I’ve never had a man cook for me before.” Then I wince. “Gah, I’m really bad at that. Just saying whatever is on my mind. Oversharing, people have called it.”
