EVAN SLAMMED his hand on the phone, making incessant chirping sounds. Damn, it was five in the morning. He rolled under the checked comforter, not ready to leave the warm cocoon. He liked to keep the camper icy cold at night, so when he got in bed he could wrap up in the covers. It might not be energy-efficient, but he slept best that way.
The crickets started up again, and he groaned as he stumbled out of bed and into the shower. He turned the nozzle to hot as the shower sputtered to life. The night hadn’t gone exactly as he planned. The last thing he wanted to have happen was what did happen—Haven ran out of Silver Belle as if he had scorched her with a hot iron. She wasn’t that kind of girl. He should have known better. He cursed out loud, knowing he had taken things too far too fast with her.
His hands pressed against the shower wall, and he hung his head, letting the water wash over his shoulders. The heat between them took him by surprise. The lights went down and so did his restraint. In the dark, he was surrounded by the scent of her shampoo, and her lips were soft, drawing him in for more. Damn if the way she moaned didn’t turn him on. He had fought those sounds when he tossed and turned in the camper’s master suite last night.
He didn’t know if he could make it up to her, but he would try. He wasn’t here to upset her. It got out of control before he knew what was happening. He pounded the wall with his fist, not proud of what he had done on the couch. The water slowed to a trickle. His seven minutes were up. Time to get dressed and get to work.
EVAN PARKED his Jeep in the side employee entrance. He noticed Haven’s bike was racked in the stand. He exhaled. Today was going to be interesting. There probably wouldn’t be any kayak races after work. He would keep it cool and give her space.
He sauntered through the doors and grabbed an apron from the hook. Haven had explained that they wouldn’t open the stand until mid-morning. His first duties of the morning would include sweeping and getting the coffee ready. He could use a tall cup. The shower wasn’t long enough to wake him up.
“Hey, good morning.” He pulled the strings against his back. Haven was at the register, counting bills.
“Hey.” She didn’t look up and continued to stack the money in rows.
“What can I help you with?” He looked around for the coffee pot—his first choice.
“Ten—twenty—thirty—uh, why don’t you grab a broom from the closet and start on the aisles?”
“Got it.” Evan spun on his heels to fetch the broom.
Sweeping it would have to be. He picked up the broom and tossed it to his other hand. He walked to the corner of the store farthest from Haven. The walk-in coolers hummed as he made piles of dirt. He had made it through five aisles before Haven walked toward him.
“So, after you finish with the floors, do you think you could unload some of the boxes that came in? They are kind of heavy for me to move around. I’ll put the merchandise on display. You don’t have to do that part.” Her gaze was steady, almost robotic.
“Absolutely. Just point me to the boxes. I’m your man.” He wanted to kick himself. That was a stupid thing to say. He had vowed not to flirt.
She turned away. “Let me just go ahead and show you where they are. You can come back to this.”
He followed her to a storage room off the hallway where the aprons hung. He could barely walk two feet into the room, it was so stuffed with mannequins, fishnets, and boxes.
“Wow. There’s a lot going on in here.” Evan looked at the shelves near the ceiling. Every single one was loaded.
Haven retrieved a box cutter and marked the boxes she needed help with. “All of the ones I need on the retail side have an X on them. Ok?” She hurried past him. “Just move those when you’re done sweeping.” She was gone before he could respond.
He looked at the stack and decided to haul a few to the retail side before rejoining his broom. T-shirt boxes were a lot heavier than he expected. He huffed as he placed the boxes on the floor. Definitely need to get back in the gym, he thought. Maybe Haven could tell him if there was one of the island.
He approached the counter where she was scribbling something on a roll of register paper. He recognized that look on her face; he had seen it before.
“Did a song hit you?”
She gathered the paper in her fist. “I-I was—”
“Can I hear it?” He leaned on his elbow.
Her blue eyes sparkled. “You want to hear it? Really?” Her tone softened. It was the first time she had countered his gaze all morning.
“Writer to writer. Let me hear it.”
She set her mouth in a determined line as if she was mentally sorting the pros and cons of sharing the words with him.
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want. No pressure.” He backed off the counter a few inches.
“Ok. Yeah. Maybe you can help me. Writer to writer.” She smiled.
Evan liked that smile. It reminded him why he had taken the job in the first place—he was just trying to help a pretty girl.
Haven flattened the creases in the paper and held it up to read.
Holding you is like catching the wind
Breezing in and out of my arms
Before my heart can decide to let you in
You’re gone and maybe you’ll be back
But everything already feels lost and dark
She looked at him expectedly, her forehead creased with worry.
“Wow. You wrote that? How does the rest go? I want to hear the whole thing.”
She bit her lip. “That’s part of my problem. I get bursts of words, and then I can’t finish the songs.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m here all the time. I don’t have time to write. I have fifty of these partially written songs. I can’t finish them.”
“But you have to finish that one. It-it needs to be finished.” There weren’t many words, but there were enough to make him want more. It was like getting half a kiss; it just wasn’t enough.
“So, you like it?” Her teeth sank into her lip again.
“I do. I really do.” He looked in her eyes to reassure her that there was something to what she had created, but the minute he did, he felt like he was the one who needed reassurance.
“I-I’m going to go finish up with the floors.”
“Ok.” Haven folded the paper in half and tucked it in her apron. “Thanks for listening.”
“Sure thing.” He walked to where he had left the broom, and realized he had never asked her about the gym. Dammit. Girls were the worst distraction—especially girls with beautiful blue eyes.
HAVEN FLICKED the loop of her apron on the wooden peg. Five o’clock couldn’t get here fast enough. Although, the day hadn’t been nearly as awkward as she thought it was going to be. Jay was cool. He didn’t make her uncomfortable, and unlike Travis, he didn’t pressure her at every turn to go out with him again. He was a few years older than she was. Maybe it was a maturity thing, or maybe it was a Jay thing.
He should be closing down the rental stand by now. She pushed the screen door open, and watched as he locked the hatch on the booth.
“How did it go today?” The sun blared in her face. She held a hand up to shield her eyes.
“Easy. I rented a few snorkel sets, a kayak, and two fishing poles. I think I have the job of the summer.” He smiled, revealing his white teeth.
Her cheeks heated as she remembered his mouth on certain parts of her body, and what those teeth had done.
“I’m glad you like it so much.” She couldn’t understand why. Shouldn’t he be itching to write like she was? She walked with him to their vehicles. She thought about how things had unfolded between them last night. Everything had been fun and easy until she flipped and ran out of the camper. It took constant pep talks throughout the day not to dive into an explanation of what happened when she pulled away from her. Although, she wasn’t sure she had it figured out. The kissing was undeniably amazing, his hands were incredible, but her brain battled with her body and won. It’s for the best, she t
hought. He might be gorgeous and have an affinity for perfect lyrics, but it could get complicated quickly.
He pulled open the door to his Jeep. “So, I guess we get to do this again tomorrow?”
“Yeah, it’s like Groundhog Day. A new day, but same old stuff.” She walked over to her bike. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Jay closed the door behind him and joined her.
Her front tire was flat. Flat as a freakin’ pancake. If she tried to ride home, she would bend and mangle the rim. That beach cruiser had cost two hundred dollars; it would be expensive to repair a tire and a rim.
“Looks like I have a flat.” She bent down to examine the tire, trying to locate where the hole was. If there was only one, she could have it patched.
“All right. No problem.” Jay reached behind her and lifted the bike into the air.
“What are you doing?” She watched as he carried the bike to the open frame of his Jeep.
“I’m giving you a ride. Hop in.” He had gently placed the cruiser in the backseat and was now climbing in his side of the car.
Haven walked to the passenger door and slid into the seat. Jay cranked the Jeep and country music blasted through the speakers.
“You sure do like country music.” She thought about the music they listened to last night at the campground.
“Yeah, well I’m from Texas.” He slid his sunglasses over his eyes.
“I thought you were from Georgia, but Texas makes a lot more sense.” She didn’t think cowboy steaks were a Georgia thing. “Why the Georgia plates?”
He threw the Jeep into reverse and positioned them in front of the road. “I don’t know where you live. Which way?” He motioned to the road. One side would take them toward the campground and ferry docks, and the other around the cove, where Haven’s apartment was.
“Go right. I’m all the way around the cove. At the very end.”
“Nice. I haven’t seen this part of the island.” He peeled out of the parking lot, kicking up gravel with the tires.
A flock of seagulls split their V-formation as Jay steered around the circular cove that was the main attraction of the village.
“Take another right here and then left at the mailbox.” Haven pointed at her road. It was off the main path, and only the locals knew where this house was.
“This is where you live?” Jay eyed the two-story beach house with a wraparound porch.
“Yeah, but only one fourth of it is mine. It’s an amazing house. It was divided into apartments awhile back. I would love to see it as a whole house. It would be incredible.” She stepped out of the Jeep and nervously fidgeted with her keys.
“Which one is yours?” He retrieved the bike from the backseat and placed it on the driveway. He wheeled it on the back tire to keep from damaging the front rim.
Haven showed him where the bike rack was. She didn’t want to deal with the tire right now. She could take her car to work in the morning. “I have the corner one. A view of the ocean and the cove. If I only get part of it, at least I have the best part.”
“No kidding.” He was already ahead of her jogging up the stairs and canvassing the porch. “Nice hammock.”
“Thanks. I do a lot of writing out here.”
Haven remembered the few notes she had scribbled early this morning. She bit her lip, wondering if this idea would work. Jay leaned against the railing and faced the boats in the marina. He was an easy-going guy, pleasant, full of smiles, flirty as hell, but that look—she recognized that look. He was searching for something, and it wasn’t in the marina. Why hadn’t she noticed that look before?
She cleared her throat. “Would you want to help me finish the song from this morning?”
He turned from the railing. “Ah, I’m not a songwriter, sweetheart. I don’t know how I can help you.”
“But, you’re a writer. Maybe if I can talk through it with you, I’ll find the right words. Would you try it?” She had never asked anyone to help her write before, but maybe she needed some creative brainstorming to get things going.
“Sure. I’ll give it a shot. But, I’m not making any promises.” He smiled.
“Really? You’ll do it? Ok, wait right here. I’ll get my guitar.” She rushed past him to go in through the sliding door.
“You wouldn’t have any beer in there, would you?” he called after her.
She wrinkled her nose. “No, but I have wine.”
“Wine will work.” He turned back to the harbor, and she walked inside, giving him a chance to look for whatever he thought he was missing.
HAVEN SPUTTERED wine onto the front of her guitar. “You can’t be serious. You think ‘bunk’ is the way to go?” She giggled. “Ok, so you want me to sing: Your kisses make me feel drunk, when we’re together we should bunk?”
“Pure poetry, baby.” Jay sipped on the wine.
“Name one song that has the word ‘bunk’ in it?” She giggled again, watching him count up pretend songs on his fingers.
“At least five that I can count.”
“You’re a liar. There are no songs with ‘bunk’ as a lyric.” She leaned down to rest her guitar against the balcony railing.
It had to be close to eight o’clock. They had finished a bottle of wine and one song, but neglected to eat. Haven’s head was spinning, and she knew she needed food fast.
“I’m going to make some pasta. Want some?” She caught herself on the edge of the hammock. She had tipped a little too far forward.
“Whoa, killer. Hold on.” Jay steadied her. “You ok?”
Embarrassed, she smiled. “Yes. What’s the vote on food? I need some. Sorry, I don’t have raw meat to throw on the fire.”
“You liked that dinner. Don’t deny it.” His hand had moved from her arm to the small of her back. His eyes dipped to the base of her throat, and she wondered if he was thinking about last night. All of a sudden, she was.
“I— Yeah, I did.” His eyes locked on her, and she struggled to remember which direction to turn for the kitchen. She looked at his full lips, and the chiseled line of his jaw. If she stared long enough, maybe the porch wouldn’t spin as much or maybe he would kiss her again. She was hoping for the kiss.
“Can I help you?” He stepped away, but kept his palm firmly planted on her back. She wanted him to lean in again.
“Yes, pasta and we might need some more wine.” She didn’t care if she had already passed her two-glass limit for work nights. They were having fun, and the words really did flow when he was around.
“Show me the way.” Jay turned her toward the door, and she led him inside the apartment.
She pulled a bottle from the wine rack and handed it to him. “Here you go. I’ll let you wrestle with the cork while I start the pasta.” Haven filled a pot with water and lit the match on the gas stove.
She and Jay worked seamlessly together in the kitchen. He poured them each a full glass of wine and chopped a cucumber for the salad. Usually, she did the bare minimum for dinner, but now that she had a guest, she decided to take her cooking up a notch. She crumbled bacon into a frying pan, and started a cream sauce in another pot. This had reached a whole new level of entertaining.
After they had devoured two servings and finished the wine, Jay took the plates to the sink and grabbed the bottle. He returned to the deck, where Haven had picked up her guitar again. She settled on the wicker loveseat that faced the ocean. The salt air helped clear her head.
“I just had an idea.”
“Ok, hit me. What is it?” He looked interested.
“I reworded the entire verse. There’s no ‘bunk’ in this version. Instead, it should go something like...” She strummed a few notes. “I can’t stop getting drunk on your kisses, so don’t hand me tears, I want this. Don’t try to resist.”
She looked up at Jay. He placed the wine bottle on the deck and reached forward. Haven didn’t know what he was doing, but she felt the guitar slip from her grasp as he pulled it away and laid it down. From her porch, sh
e could always hear the waves on the beach and the boats rocking in their slips, but right now, all the sounds were muffled as he leaned toward her pressing his mouth against hers.
She clutched at his shoulders and brought him close to her, tasting the wine on his tongue. He was making her drunk, and every part of her told her to stop resisting and enjoy the way he made her feel.
It didn’t take long to realize he wasn’t going to fit on the loveseat. He was half-kneeling on the deck. Haven nudged her way to the side, and without saying anything, she reached for his hand and led him into the apartment. It all seemed too bright after the darkness of the deck. She flipped the lights off. Jay grabbed her from behind, and pushed her hair to the side so he could kiss her neck. She spun in his arms, searching for his mouth. She needed those lips. They were beyond kissable.
He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her against him. Immediately, she wrapped her legs around him, squeezing hard against him. She didn’t know if it was because he didn’t know his way around the apartment, or because it was almost completely dark, but he moved two paces to the kitchen table and sat her on the edge before tearing at the buttons on her shirt.
She heard them hit the table and scatter on the floor one by one. The edge of his T-shirt was soft in her palms as she slid it upward, taking her time to trace the hard bulges of the muscles wrapping his torso. His eyes no longer looked lost; they were full of lust and longing. Longing for her. Using her heels, she dug into his firm backside, pushing him forward and rocking her center enough to send a surge of ache pulsating through her body. Why were they still mostly dressed?
Keeping her eyes on his gaze, she eased back on her arms, giving him a full view of what she knew he wanted. She felt the fire of his breath on her navel as she unwound her legs, allowing him to move on his own. He skimmed her stomach with his fingers, taking his time until he had her breast in his hand.
Finding Haven Page 10