THE LAST time Haven had been at the Perry Campground was after the prom her senior year of high school. A big group of her classmates had parked in the tent spaces, and then tore off for the beach. It could have been the full moon or maybe the freedom graduation offered right around the corner, but whatever it was, Haven and her friends splashed in cocktail dresses, chased each other on the beach, and laughed harder than she could remember. Prom night went down as one of her favorite nights, and here she was again, more than four years later, meeting an almost total stranger for dinner.
She slowed the car along the gravel drive that bordered the horseshoe of camper trailers. She didn’t remember the names being so funny. Under the Seashell? She might have to write these into a parody song.
There was Jay’s Jeep next to Silver Belle. She touched up her lip gloss again and ran her fingers through her hair. This was only dinner with a new summer resident, she told herself for the twentieth time as she climbed from her car and walked to the silver camper.
All day she knew he had flirted with her, but it was different from the advances coming from Travis. Jay was confident and sure of himself. He didn’t pout or punish her if she didn’t flirt back. In fact, it seemed to make him smile more, the more she resisted his innuendos.
It had been surprising spending the day with him. She caught herself laughing unexpectedly and teasing him when she knew she shouldn’t. He took everything in stride and nothing about the store stressed him out.
What she really wanted to know was how long he had been writing and if he had any advice to launch her into the writing world. She needed any help she could get to break into the music business. It was worth a shot.
She noticed two chairs arranged in front of the fire. She tapped on the door, feeling a surge of nerves begin to take hold.
Jay swung the door open and greeted her with a smile and a smooth face.
“Wow. Hey.” She stood, staring at the once scruffy newcomer. “I—uh—you look good without the beard.”
“Thanks.” He rubbed his cheek. “After the dip in the creek today, I thought it was about time. Saltwater and facial hair are not a good combination. I’m not really a beard guy.”
“Oh, I thought it was part of the whole writer thing.” She tried to make a joke to cover her persistent staring. His face looked so different. So handsomely different. And there were dimples when he smiled. It took restraint not to reach toward him and touch his cheek.
“I’ve got beer. Want one?” He revealed two longneck bottles in his hand and stepped back so she could enter the camper.
Everything was red and white like a perpetual picnic. Haven took a beer from him and reached for a towel to twist off the top. These tops always hurt her palm.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks. It’s twenty-two feet of home for the summer. Want a tour? We can start dinner in a minute.” He shuffled her to the center of the room.
“Definitely. Show me the chateau.” She looked around the small space, wondering where he wrote.
“All right. This here is the culinary den of the place.” He pointed to the quaint kitchenette. “And this is the breakfast nook.” She liked how the table and bench jutted out, giving a better view of the ocean.
He walked toward the back of the camper. “The master suite, complete with a bed. Yeah, that’s all that’s in here. And of course the master bath. If you turn just right, you can fit in the shower. I think I’ve learned new contortionist skills this summer.”
Haven sized him up and the shower, and wondered how someone with such broad shoulders managed to squeeze in there.
“Wow, looks like you have everything you need.” She took a swig of the beer.
“It is pretty damn perfect. This is the living room, I guess.” A red couch ran along the inside wall. He walked two steps to the kitchen and retrieved a plate of steaks from the mini-fridge. “You eat meat, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
He sighed. “Good. I was worried for a second. But this is what I’ve got. Come on. Let’s get these cowboy steaks on the fire.”
“Cowboy steaks?” She had never heard of that kind of steak before.
“Yeah, you’ll see. Come on.” He led her through the door and motioned to one of the chairs by the fire. “All right, so we just throw them on the fire, and in ten minutes, they’ll be done.”
“You mean like on a roaster stick?” She looked around for the utensils they needed to spear the steaks.
He laughed. “No, like this.” He grabbed one of the steaks off the plate and tossed it into the center of the fire where it sizzled on the hot coals. “Want me to do yours?”
“No way.” She grabbed hers and chunked it into the flames right next to his.
“Nice throw.”
“Thanks.” She tipped the bottle back and watched as the steaks bubbled under the heat.
Jay settled into the chair. “So, tell me, songwriter, what kind of music do you write?”
Haven blinked. People didn’t usually ask about her music. They usually acted like she didn’t write at all. Everyone on the island knew she wrote music. She’d been doing it since the third grade, but that didn’t mean it was accepted as a way to make a living. This was a chance to have an actual conversation about the words that swirled in her head and seeped from her pores. “Anything and everything.” Ok, well that was about as vague and shallow an answer as she could muster.
“Oh, that kind of music,” he teased.
She nudged him with her elbow. “I meant that I don’t really try to write a certain song. I let the words hit me, and then I write it. It’s kind of hard to explain, but I feel it, I don’t think it.”
She chugged on the beer, thinking maybe her first answer was better than her second. That was too much. He would surely think she was some kind of abstract artist who needed to be secluded in an artist-only loony colony.
“How did you learn to write lyrics?” He kicked at one of the logs with his foot. He seemed comfortable with the fire.
“It’s not something I went to school for. I think of it like poetry, I guess. I see the words together or feel them together.”
“Feel them?”
She twirled her bottle until she heard the beer sloshing. Jay had turned to face her, and she realized he was listening. His eyes scanning hers and his forehead fixed in concentration. “Yes, it’s a feeling, but it comes out as lyrics. It’s hard to explain.”
“It makes sense to me. Those are my favorite songs. The ones that actually mean something—not just rambling strung together to fit a beat, but words with soul.”
Haven followed his eyes, wishing it wasn’t getting dark so she could see the flecks of green. Right now, he was looking at her as if he understood everything she said and more, and she wanted to capture that look in his eyes and memorize it.
He broke the silence. “If you didn’t go to school for music, what did you study?”
Haven rolled her eyes. “Oh, that? My major is actually education. My parents want me to be a teacher. We compromised on me teaching music.”
“Well, that sounds like a sensible idea. You get to do both, right?”
“No, not really. All I want to do is write. I’m sending songs out every week to labels, and any day I’m going to sell one. I really want a contract so I can move. I’ll pay my dad back for college and I’ll be done with this nightmare.” She gripped the bottle in her hand like she needed it to steady her. She didn’t mean to get so worked up.
“Nightmare? I guess you’re talking about what I overhead this morning on the docks.” He turned to look at her. It wasn’t pity in his eyes. It was the same look he had at the kayak stand—understanding and warmth. The kind of look the she wouldn’t mind seeing more of. She liked the way it felt when he looked at her that way.
“It’s a long story, but you could say I had a falling out with my dad recently and I’m ready to move on. First, I owe him for my tuition. It was part of the deal when my parents sent me to
school. I’m supposed to be grateful I got to go, but now it feels like I’m an indentured servant. Half of my pay goes to my tuition bill, and I get the other half.” The beer was empty, but she wasn’t sure if it was ok to ask for another one so quickly. She liked talking with him, and if he brought her another beer, she would stay and swap stories as long as the fire burned.
Jay stood from the chair. “Why don’t I grab us a few more beers and the plate for the steaks? I’ll be right back.”
She watched as he walked back into the camper and decided a pair of khaki shorts had never looked so good on a man before. Her cheeks flushed, wondering if his backside looked as amazing as his chest and arms.
“Here you go.” He returned seconds later with a cold beer. Using a long set of tongs, he reached into the fire and stabbed both of the steaks. “Cowboy steak is served. You ready?”
Haven nodded her head.
He handed her silverware and bread. “I’m not much on cooking. It’s steak and bread tonight.”
The hot plate in front of her looked and smelled wonderful. This was plenty. “I love it. Let’s eat.”
Jay cut into the steak and took a bite. “Mmm…might be my best yet.” He grinned, his mouth full.
“So, I’ve done all the talking. Tell me about where you went to school and your hometown.”
“There’s not much to tell.” He cut into the steak again. “I went to a small Texas school and played some football.”
“Football?” She knew he was too naturally athletic not to have been involved in sports of some kind. “What position did you play?”
“I was the quarterback, of course. But after the last concussion, I decided I needed to do something a little safer. I’d like to keep my memories.” He winked.
“So is that how you got into writing? It’s the football safety net?”
He nodded while tipping a beer back.
“Tell me about your book. I want to know what you’re writing. I feel like I’ve been cut off from writer minds since I moved back home.” She tasted the meat and enjoyed the smoky flavor.
She watched him chew. Finally, he spoke. “I’m taking my time on this one. Just seeing how it goes. I need to feel it.” He winked.
She knew he was trying to distract her and she hated to admit it worked.
“Does that mean you haven’t started yet?” Haven wondered why he was so reluctant to share his work with her. She felt like she had just given him way too much personal information. She needed him to balance the conversation.
“Something like that.”
“But—”
Jay cut her off. “Dammit, my neighbor does not understand volume control.” The music from next door had increased several decibels, drowning out the sound of the waves. “Thanks to you, I now know what she’s playing is beach music. Let’s go in. I’ve got speakers inside. We can continue this conversation. I want to hear more about your songs.”
Slightly flustered, Haven clutched her drink and followed him inside the camper. It felt small and cool after sitting under the stars and in front of the fire. It also smelled like Jay’s cologne, fresh and soapy-scented.
“Sorry about that.” He pulled the door tightly behind him. “Charlotte likes to play her music loudly, and if I go over there now, I might not be back for a while.”
“Oh, ok.” Haven didn’t know if she should slide into the booth or sit on the couch. She wanted to keep talking; she wanted to get him to open up.
Jay fiddled with one of the speakers before strolling to the couch and crossing his ankle over his knee. He had selected a country song, but she hadn’t heard it before.
“What’s this?” She nodded toward the speaker.
“You don’t know this song?” Jay looked shocked.
Haven shook her head. The words were haunting and perfectly placed. It was an acoustic number, and the man’s voice was smooth and raspy on all the right notes.
“How about Carly Stone? Do you know her?”
Haven laughed. “She’s only my favorite singer and songwriter. I love her.” Ever since she had seen the indie artist’s first video on YouTube, she had been hooked. After it went viral, Carly burst into country music like a firework.
He smiled. “Well, she wrote this.”
“What? But it’s a guy song.” Haven wondered if he was teasing her, but he looked too serious.
Jay stretched on the couch. “Carly can write. I’d listen to just about anything of hers.”
As if on cure, the next song was a Carly Stone hit.
Jay smiled. “Speak of the devil.”
Haven giggled. “Yep. I do know this is her song.”
Haven sat on the end of the couch, keeping a pillow’s distance between them. It was hard to ignore how the closeness of the camper brought them into each other’s space. It immediately felt more intimate.
In this case, intimate was welcome. All day she felt like they had been gradually moving closer to this moment. She felt all the thrills of recklessness tingling under her skin, but talking with Jay didn’t feel dangerous or rash. It felt right, as if they already knew each other. Maybe that was the soothing feeling he cast over—a familiarity with someone you don’t even know that comes from an unexplainable place.
Jay pointed over her head. “Hey, would you mind reaching behind you and cutting off the light over the table? Not only is Charlotte loud, she’s nosey.”
“Sure.” Haven reached behind her. She meant to flip the light closest to the table, but instead, she swiped all three to the off position, throwing the entire camper into darkness. “Oh crap. Sorry. Sorry.” She fumbled with the wall, but couldn’t find the switch to save her life.
“Hey.” The tone of his voice was soft and low. “Just leave it.” The way it sounded in the dark made her shiver and smile at the same time. She knew he was moving closer to her. The attempt to steady her pulse was useless as long as she knew he was about to touch her.
Her heart started beating faster, waiting for him to close in on her. But he took his time finding her in the dark, setting his own speed for the chase. Strong hands slid around her waist and drew her in. He didn’t kiss her right away. His cheek brushed against her face, and he nuzzled against her ear. It was as if he wanted to inhale every part of her. The anticipation was dizzying. His body pressed close, the heat from his mouth, and the familiar sensation of desire bubbling through her veins. He moved from her ear, to her neck, and skimmed her throat with his lips, raking her with his warm breath. It stirred all the feelings of want she hadn’t been able to unleash all summer. She leaned back, taking in every touch as he ignited blazes along her skin.
His hand clasped the back of her neck and wrapped his fingers through her hair before bringing her mouth to his. He tasted like the last sips of beer, and she couldn’t think of any better way to get drunk than on deep kisses like these. His tongue played with hers as he cradled her on the couch under him. She wanted to think through what she was doing—making out with a virtual stranger at the campground—but thoughts seemed like a bad idea, an idea that wouldn’t do anything to ease the burning feeling taking over her body.
His hands slid under the cotton of her shirt and worked their way up her back, pressing into her skin. She arched slightly as his hands landed on her bra clasp.
“Wait,” she whispered.
She pushed against Jay and created enough space to pull the shirt over her head. She tossed it on the floor. Gently, he led the straps over her arms and dropped the lacy garment on the floor. Things were moving quickly, but in the dark, it felt like the perfect pace. It was unrushed, yet breathless.
She could get lost in the kisses, the touches, the whispers in her ear. Being with someone for the first time is like meeting a stranger on the dance floor—aligning bodies and matching rhythms until you know exactly where to put your hands and what moves will make him smile. Haven wanted to dance with him until she knew his breath and what he felt like pressed against her.
She reclined on her
arms and let out a deep moan as she felt the heat of Jay’s mouth descend on her breast. He sucked hard, and she fisted her hands through his hair, knowing the pressure between her legs was building with each flick of his tongue. He moved to the other side, and her nipple throbbed from where his lips had been. He took her between his teeth, and at the contact, she arched with such force it almost threw them off the couch.
“Too much?” He released her and made a slow circle with his tongue. “Is that better?” He blew across her wet skin, making her knees clench harder against his waist.
She wanted to tell him that it was better the other way, that she liked the roughness of his teeth, the possessiveness she felt when he had her in his mouth, but she realized that the sudden abandon she felt by being with a total stranger was evaporating. This was all too intimate to experience with someone she didn’t know, and instantly, that seemed kind of important. They would be stocking shelves together in the morning. In their aprons, under her father’s watchful eye.
She bolted from the couch, knocking Jay back on his heels.
“Oh my God, where’s my shirt?” She covered her breasts with one hand and searched the floor for her shirt with the other, her breath frantic. It had to be here somewhere. The camper wasn’t that big.
“What’s wrong? Are you ok?” Jay sounded calm. Of course, he wasn’t the one with only half his clothes on. “Hold on. I’ll help you.” He crawled to the floor next to her. “Ah-ha. Here you go.”
She fumbled in the dark to find the articles of clothes she had. The handful included her bra and shirt. She was glad they were in the dark so she wouldn’t have to see the look on his face while she struggled to redress herself. He hadn’t pressured her or convinced her to do anything she didn’t want to do. That was the problem; she wanted it. She wanted to know more of him, beyond his favorite kind of lyrics.
Completely clothed, she stood in front of the couch. “I need to get home. Thanks for dinner.”
“Haven, wait—”
But she didn’t give him a chance to explain or apologize; she bolted from Silver Belle and ran to her car. Today was an all-time record day for embarrassments, and this night really needed to end. It was going to start all over again tomorrow when she got to the store and had to train the man who had just made her almost come from nothing more than a hot kiss and some heavy petting.
Finding Haven Page 9
