Find Her, Keep Her (A Martha's Vineyard Love Story) (Love in the USA)

by Z. L. Arkadie

  “I’m thirty-five,” he says.

  “Ha! We’re the same age.”

  “See, I told you. You and I”—he shifts his finger back and forth between us—“soul mates.”

  I gaze at the trail.

  “Wait,” Belmont whispers as he comes to an abrupt stop. He guides me to stand in front of him. “Look.” He points out past a field of high grass that comes to a stop at the edge of a stagnant pond.

  I narrow my eyes to see a little red ball perched on a broken tree stump.

  “Is that a bird?” I ask.

  “Shush,” he gently admonishes me.

  “It’s beautiful,” I whisper, heeding the warning.

  It’s a tiny bird about the size of my palm. Its skin is furry instead of feathery. I could literally pet it like a cat. As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what it looks like, a brand-new kitten, only it’s bright red and makes choppy, squeaking noises.

  “Shoot,” I curse under my breath. “I don’t have my camera.”

  “How about this?” Belmont slides a cell phone out of his pants pocket and takes a picture. As soon as the camera clicks, the tiny bird leaps off the tree stump and flies away.

  “Did you get it?” I ask him excitedly.

  He holds the device in front of my face. In perfect zoom, clear and sharp, is the little red bird.

  “Do you know what kind it is?” I ask.

  He squints at the photo. “It looks like a Scarlet Tanager.”

  “Thank you,” I mutter, trying to control the urge to fall back into his hard chest and let him do with me what he wills.

  “You’re welcome, but you’re driving me crazy.” He stands beside me and undresses me with his eyes.

  “You can send that to me at my first name and last name, one word, at hotmail.com. Oh, and my last name is—”

  “I know what your last name is,” he says as if telling him would offend him. “I also know your email address.”

  I flinch, taken aback. “How?”

  “Your online articles post your email address.”

  “Not my personal email address.”

  He lifts one eyebrow and smiles slightly. “You didn’t let me finish.” I’m enthralled by that sexy look on his face. “I wanted to read your article on the French Riviera, and I know the editor of Road W.”

  “You know Hunter Klein?”

  He nods. “He’s a good friend.”

  “Wow. What a coincidence.”

  His smile grows broader. “I know lot of people, babe! Which makes me an asset for you.”

  I pat him on the chest. “Always the charmer.”

  We gaze into each other’s eyes for a moment.

  “Are you going to kiss me now?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Not yet.”

  “All right then,” he acquiesces. Belmont takes my hand and leads me on.

  This part is all uphill, and we’re back in the dense part of the woods. The weather is mild, but even though I’m panty-less and wearing a thin dress, I’m working up a sweat.

  Belmont steps in front of me, leans over, and prompts me to hop onto his back. “Get on.”

  I hesitate, but he really doesn’t have to tell me twice. I climb on and wrap my arms around his neck and legs around his torso. He totes me as if I’m a sack of feathers, which is surprising. Belmont has muscles, but he’s still pretty lean.

  “How much do you weigh?” he asks, testing my body mass by bouncing me.

  I giggle because it feels as though I’m riding one of those mechanical bucking horses that used to be in front of grocery stores years ago. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know how much you weigh?” He asks incredulously.

  I shrug against his back. He slides his hand down my thigh, massaging me. It felt so good. He really does have a sensual touch.

  “You’re about what, 5’8”?” he asks.

  “5’7” and three-quarters.”

  “And you weigh about”—he bounces me again—“one-thirty?”

  “I told you. I don’t know. I’ve been too busy to care.”

  “Well, I’m here to tell you that you have a sexy-ass body.”

  “I believe I heard you say that already.”

  He laughs, and the next thing I know, he’s pulled me off of his back. I’m wrapped in his arms. We’re kissing so hard, and I somehow end up lying on the well-worn trail. We’re going at it as if we’re famished for each other. I’m whimpering and frustrated because I can’t get past his flesh to merge with his soul.

  Belmont fiddles with his pants with one hand and squeezes my breast with the other. I hear his zipper. He spreads my legs and stuffs his erection inside of me.

  “Sorry,” he whispers before his tongue dives into my mouth. He’s thrusting me hard and fast and then nails me. “Damn…” He pushes deeper inside of me until his body quivers. He grunts in my ear. “Sorry, I couldn’t wait,” he says after he’s fully released himself.

  Then to my complete and utter embarrassment, two sets of legs walk past us. I let out a loud screech, grab his shirt, and bury my face against his chest. I hear giggling.

  “Nice to see your ass, Jack,” a guy says.

  “It’s nice and tight,” a girl jokes.

  I peak up to see Belmont throw up the middle finger, and the strangers laugh as they continue onward.

  I cannot believe that just happened.

  I remain mortified by what just happened all the way until we reach the edge of a grassy hill. The sight is breathtaking. A crystal-clear ocean stretches along the coastline and spreads to what looks like the edge of the Earth. The sleek, white sand shores that lie at the foot of steep, stony cliffs call my name. I tell Belmont he gets brownie points for taking me here.

  “That’s what I like to hear,” he says and pinches my bare butt.

  We gallop across the wild grass. Belmont scoots down the edge of a shallow hill and reaches up to help me to the sand.

  “Take this off,” he says, and before I know it, he’s lifting my dress over my head. Then he drops his pants and pulls off his shirt.

  We’re as naked as jaybirds. “What? Is this a nude beach?” I ask, crossing my arms to hide my breasts.

  “Yep.” He takes my arms and moves them to my sides. Belmont can’t seem to help himself from sucking on one of my nipples while he stimulates the other, and then he changes sides.

  “No, let’s swim,” I whine. He’s poking me with his poker again. He’s like the Energizer Bunny.

  “They’re so brown and round… and real.”

  I shake my head, determined to not get screwed for a third time today. I step out of his grasp. One by one, I kick off my sandals. I look around. We’re the only ones out here, so I run toward the water and dive in.

  I’m a darn good swimmer. I used to be afraid of the great blue sea until one summer in Crete. I was lucky enough to join a group of tour guides on a training expedition. They rented a yacht to cruise the Matala coastline, and they spent all afternoon swimming the majestic Mediterranean Ocean. I was too afraid to join them until Javar Les, a sweet guy from London, took me under his wing and vowed to teach me how to swim and survive the sea. The hardest part was jumping in for the first time. After that, it was a piece of cake. For one week, we spent every day swimming the entire Greek Isle. Strong currents, smooth currents, deep, shallow—you name it, we swam it. Since then, I’ve been hooked.

  The ocean is quite active, but I get control of my body fairly quickly. I flip over and try to float on my back, but the rapidly moving waves won’t let me. Before I can flip back around, Belmont traps me in his grasp.

  “I didn’t know you were an Olympic swimmer,” he says as we bob with the current.

  He leans in for a kiss, but I shift out of his arms and swim toward a massive boulder rising out of the depths. As soon as I touch it, Belmont is right there, backing me up against the rock and pressing his lips to mine. It’s a wet, slippery kiss. The boulder is in shallow water, so our feet touch the rocky
surface.

  “You like this?” he asks.

  “I love it.” I feel myself beaming as the thin waves crash against the rock and spray me in the face. “However…” I say after I’m able to see again.

  The next wave slams into us harder, pinning me to the uncomfortable rock. Belmont twirls me around and leads us to shore. When we get there, he lays me down on the wet sand. He uses his knee to spread my legs and reaches down to stuff his hard-on inside of my sugar caves, but then suddenly he freezes. His narrowed eyes glare at something behind us. He rolls off of me and lies beside me.

  “Shit,” he gripes under his breath.

  I lift up a little and turn to see what kept him from nailing me before I could think to stop him. A man, woman, and a dog are about twenty feet away, fully clothed and eyeing me specifically. It’s as if they can’t believe what they’re seeing. I’m aware that my dress is laying too far away for me to run and put it on without giving them a healthy dose of my nakedness.

  Belmont squeezes my bicep. “Relax.”

  “Are you sure this is a nude beach?”

  “It’s whatever kind of beach we make it,” he says with his fingers interlaced behind his head while grinning from ear to ear. It’s kind of weird how relaxed he is with his rod sticking straight in the air, choosing to stay erect until it gets what it wants.

  I’m still up on my elbows, watching them. The couple tosses a Frisbee for the Collie to run and catch. They’re no longer paying us any attention.

  “Okay.” I sigh and enjoy the cool water rolling in from the great Atlantic Ocean. I gaze up at the sky. I’ve experienced countless perfect moments on my many trips, however, this is the first time someone like Belmont has shared it with me. I can’t believe the way I feel about him. Two days ago, my heart hurt so much I could hardly breathe. Now, I’m suffering the opposite of heartache. I could love him, I think as my eyes caress a white cloud streaking past us. Perhaps I could love him forever.

  “So you operate charter during the summer and also work as a construction worker?” I really want to know more about him.

  “I’m not a construction worker. I own a construction business,” he says. He gently squeezes my nipple as though he’s milking a cow. The sensation is distracting, but not so much that I abandon my objective.

  “Then you build things?”

  He pinches my nipple, and I whimper as he says, “Yep.”

  “Belmont?” I cover his hand with mine. “Take a break.”

  He chuckles and puts his hands back behind his head. “Go ahead, Daisy, continue the third degree.”

  I chuckle. “Charlie said your parents are dead.”

  “That’s right.” His eyes are closed. His hard-on is deflating, which is a clue that he’s affected by that question.

  I’m both relieved and disappointed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  He slides his thumb across my lower lip as he stares deeply into my eyes. “It’s okay, babe.” His voice cracks. “They died in a small-airplane crash.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Six years ago.”

  I stroke his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

  He seizes my hand and kisses the inside of it.

  “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything, baby. If anything, you’re making it all better.”

  I take in his beautiful profile. “Belmont?”

  “Daisy?” His eyes are closed. He’s stimulating my nipple again, and his penis is rising.

  “Why don’t you and Charlie like each other?”

  “Long story.”

  “Long stories are too complicated to tell,” I whisper, completely understanding.

  We fall silent, but I feel his eyes on me. I look at him. He’s watching me curiously.

  “You’re going to let me off the hook that easy?”

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, I can’t force you.”

  “But it doesn’t help my case.”

  I frown, perplexed, unsure what he means. “What case?”

  “You’re shunning the intimacy, Daisy. Make me tell you. I’m yours.” My mouth is caught open. Belmont reaches over and pulls me on top of him. We’re kissing, although not so deep that he can’t talk. “Ask me what you want to know?”

  “Okay then, what’s the long story?” I whisper.

  “Charlie’s always resented me for being the older brother. He likes being on top.” Suddenly he shows me a naughty grin and looks behind us.

  “They’re still around,” I warn him and roll my eyes. Jeez, he’s so insatiable.

  The couple has ventured farther down the beach, but they’re close enough to see him screwing me if he starts up again.

  “We don’t hate each other, Daisy. We’re brothers, and that’s never going to change.”

  He lifts me to my feet, takes my hand, and leads me across the sand to retrieve our clothes. Belmont helps me into my dress since my wet skin makes it difficult, and then he dresses himself. I hold my shoes in my hand as we trek across the shore.

  “See that compound?” he asks. My eyes follow the direction he’s pointing. A set of three houses, all identical, gray-shingled Colonials sit a safe distance from the ledge of the rocky cliffs.

  “Nice,” I say, thinking he’s showing me a beautiful estate.

  “That’s where we’re going—and Daisy?” He peeks at me carefully.

  “Yes?” I sing as we pull up to a stop. It almost feels like he’s going to ask me to marry him or something.

  “I own that estate.”

  My eyes expand with surprise. “You do?”

  “How about you stay there for the next two weeks? It’s got a pool and some other great amenities. And the bed is really big and comfortable.” He lifts one side of his mouth into a suggestive grin.

  I take another look at the expansive estate. It surely is gorgeous. “But I’ve already paid six thousand dollars for the house I’m renting now.”

  “If you hadn’t paid six thousand dollars, would you stay in my place?”

  I shrug. “Yeah. Why not.”

  “Well, I called Epstein, who owns the house you’re renting, and he agreed to give you your money back. He’s already refunded your travel agent.”

  “What? When?”

  “Yesterday. I had your things moved this morning.” He looks worried.

  “By whom? When?” I want to ask, “how,” too but I know that will further stilt my already limited vocabulary.

  “My housekeepers,” he finally replies. “Are you angry?” He searches my face.

  I look off into the horizon to think. I’ve never had this happen to me. He’s trying to take over my life, and I love my independence! At least, that’s what I used to think. What’s wrong with me? Why am I not pissed off about this? Why am I turned on? Why am I not going to tell him to re-arrange all of his little arrangements and leave me alone you psycho?

  Instead I sigh tiredly and say, “No, I’m not.”

  His lips stretch into a victorious smile. “Good. I was afraid you would knock me on my ass and tell me to go to hell.”

  “A) I’m not strong enough to do that, and B) I thought about it.”

  All of a sudden, his expression turns severe. “I would never lay a hand on you, Daisy.” He smirks, grabs the round of my butt, and shoves it against him. “Wait, I take that back.”

  I chuckle at his not-so-corny joke. We kiss, and he’s feeling me up. His hands squeeze me here and there and everywhere. It’s as if he’s not a man but an octopus.

  “Shit, let’s hurry.” He sighs as he forces his lips away from mine.

  “Wait,” I say when he takes my hand.

  “What?” His endorphins have him wild-eyed.

  “What do you think about me beyond the sexual stuff?” I ask. I need to know the answer before I allow him access to my body again.

  He studies my expression for a moment. Belmont’s a pretty perceptive guy, so I’m sure he can see how desperate I am to hear his answer. “I don’t kno
w,” he finally says. “You’re still a mystery to me.”

  “I am?” I’m surprised to hear that. I thought I put myself out there for him.

  “I can’t read you. I’m falling for you really fast, and I don’t understand why. Are you feeling the same way about me?”

  “Yes,” I must admit. “Which is crazy.”

  He wraps an arm around my waist and starts walking us. “So where are we going to live? I don’t like L.A. The smog is bad, and traffic’s a nightmare. Everything’s crowded, and you can live in a place for an entire year and never see your neighbors once.” His expectant eyes are shining.

  “We’re moving in together?” I ask, further surprised by his forwardness.

  “Can you see yourself leaving here without me? Because I can’t see it,” he says.

  “I don’t know.” I sigh. “I didn’t think this would ever happen to me.”

  “Ah, now that’s interesting. What did you think would happen if I hadn’t come along?”

  I take a moment to ponder that as we stroll along. “I thought I’d end up with Adrian for the rest of my life. Never married though. We both believed the ring, the minister, the church, and all the other shenanigans were unnecessary. Of course, he proved to be a lying hypocrite.”

  “I believe in all those shenanigans,” he says, ignoring the part where I bitterly called my ex a hypocrite. “I want them with you.”

  I shake my head as I connect with my undeniable, innermost desires. “I don’t think I could do it. I just don’t believe in it. I wish I did, but I don’t.”

  We turn quiet as we clomp through the sand. We arrive at a set of stone stairs. Belmont sits down and draws me onto his lap.

  “Tell me more about yourself,” he asks. He doesn’t sound disappointed by what I revealed.

  “Like what?” I ask.

  “Tell me about your parents. Are they alive?”

  “Yes, but they’re divorced and married to other people.”

  “Any brothers? Sisters?”

  “Two half brothers on my father’s side and two half sisters on my mother’s side.”

  “Are you close to them?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Why?”

  I shrug. “It’s probably my fault. I never make time for family. I spent the last three Christmases in Rome to capture the true spectacle of the season. And me and Adrian usually go somewhere together during Thanksgiving.”