Blue Crush

by Barnard, Jules

  I’ve never lived with a guy before, not even one of my mom’s boyfriends. Mom was smart enough to make their visits temporary. Now I’m living with two?

  I scratch my forehead. “Is he sleeping in that?”

  Cali pats the side of the tent. The industrial material doesn’t quiver. “Yeah, isn’t it awesome? I’ll be in here with him, so you’ll have the room to yourself.”

  Cali and I have shared the single bedroom all summer. The chalet has an extra bed in the loft above the kitchen, but the ladder is a death trap. We stuck Tyler up there.

  Jaeger pops his head out of his new bedroom and greets me before moving on to manly pursuits, like setting up a battery-operated lantern and hammering in a two-foot tent post with the heel of his giant boot.

  “Okay, well, enjoy. I’m going inside.”

  Cali gives me an openmouthed smile. “Oh, we will.”

  Did not need to hear that. I owe Jaeger for setting up their love nest outside.

  I slump on the couch and stare at my phone. Tyler’s out and Cali’s occupied. She didn’t wonder at my early return, which goes to show how distractedly happy she is in her new relationship. I’m not sure why Jaeger is living on our patio. I imagine it has something to do with his ex-girlfriend. At least he and Cali are holding strong. Whatever’s up with his ex, it hasn’t pulled them apart. I’ll wait until we’re alone to tell Cali about Drake and my visit with management.

  I pull up Nessa’s contact and type a text.

  Gen: What are you up to? Didn’t see you at work and they sent me home early. Want to get together?

  I’m heating up a frozen burrito—or three—when my phone buzzes.

  Nessa: Come to the party!!! Timber Boathouse. DJ, free alcohol!! It’s a friend of a friend’s twenty-fifth.

  That’s a lot of exclamation points. I’m thinking Nessa already tapped into several of those free drinks.

  Gen: Okay, but where the hell is the Timber Boathouse??

  She sends me convoluted directions I’m hoping will make sense once I get there. My phone buzzes with another text.

  Nessa: Dress up. It’s cocktail formal.

  Dress up I can do. My wannabe French mother instilled a sense of formality in me from an early age. I keep cocktail dresses on hand—mainly because my mom shows up wherever I am and drags me to the fanciest restaurants in town. It’s a survival tactic. Bring a dress, or be severely underdressed and embarrassed.

  “You’re wearing that?” Cali says with an approving smile as I step out to say good-bye. “Hot, girl, very hot. You get ’em.”

  A whistle comes from behind. Tyler shuts the front door and scans my outfit. “Nice. Why so dressed—” His eyes catch on the tent visible through the living room window. “What the fuck is that?”

  “That is Cali and Jaeger’s love nest.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I’d rather not know what they’re going to be doing with it. I’m taking off.”

  His jaw clenches, a shiver jolting his body. “Think I’ll leave too.”

  “Pretty sure the party I’m going to welcomes outsiders. Nessa will be there.” I raise my eyebrows.

  “Nessa?” Tyler glances at my black cocktail dress and frowns. “Do I have to dress up? I didn’t bring a suit.”

  “Did you bring anything besides jeans and ratty T-shirts?”

  He peers out the window and cringes. “I’ll find something. Give me five.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Is there anything more annoying than how quickly a guy gets ready? I clocked Tyler because I didn’t believe he could do it in five minutes. He showered and dressed in four minutes thirty-seven seconds. Men suck.

  Tyler scrounged up a pair of dark chinos and a blue dress shirt that makes his pale blue eyes stand out like glass. His dark brownish-red hair appears black from his shower and mussed like he ran his fingers through it instead of a comb. I gotta admit, he’s rather pretty polished up.

  “Tyler, you’re going to make the ladies very happy tonight.” He glances from behind the wheel of his clunky Land Cruiser and rolls his eyes. “What? I’m being serious.”

  It’s a good thing Tyler came with me. He knows the location of the Timber Boathouse, and once we arrive, I realize I would never have found it. During the daylight, directions like “make a left at the burnt tree stump,” or “walk down the stone-lined path,” might make sense. In the dark, it’s all shadows and pitch. The sound of the music would have been a clue, but I’d have stumbled around for thirty minutes beforehand.

  The path to the boathouse is gravel, causing my ankles to wobble. Tyler steadies me with his arm. “Easy there. No acting like a drunk before you’re actually drunk. You’ll signal the perverts from the start.”

  I stop in my tracks. “Are you serious?”

  His smile fades. “What?” He raises a hand to my shoulder and squeezes. “Gen, it’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Cool air rushes into my lungs and I move again. The incident with Drake earlier has me jumpy … So this is what it feels like to have a trusted guy around. Big brothers kind of rock.

  Christmas lights stream through rafters, illuminating the inside of the boathouse. Bar-height tables balance empty plastic cups and half-eaten cake. Confetti and balloons litter the ground. We missed a few key ceremonies, like blowing out the candles, but the party is in full swing. Guests dance near the DJ, others mingle in loud, animated clusters, their chatter mixing with the music.

  Tyler points to a far corner. “There’s Nessa.”

  It’s a drunken mass, but of course Tyler sniffs out the beautiful girls. Sure enough, Nessa is in the corner in a strapless flare dress and five-inch heels. She looks gorgeous—and she’s standing in front of Lewis. He’s in a midnight suit with no tie, the jacket fitted to his lean, muscular frame. My breath catches.

  When I see the top button of his white shirt unfastened, revealing his strong, tanned neck, images of kissing him at the cascades and touching that neck, crash vivid and tactile into my mind. My heart pounds at a screaming pace. I grab Tyler’s arm to help me stand, to help me think.

  Lewis glances over, his gaze landing on me, a light filling his eyes—until his focus drops to my arm looped through Tyler’s. His jaw tightens.

  Does he believe I’m with Tyler? We walked in together, and Lewis doesn’t know Tyler is Cali’s brother.

  Lewis was all business this afternoon. I’m not sure what the kiss meant to him, but the way he’s looking at me now …

  I drop my hand and step to the side. “We should go over,” I tell Tyler.

  “Oh my God,” Nessa shouts and wobbles forward, her drink sloshing in her glass. Definitely drunk. Worse than the night at the club, but then, my perspective was off from my own beer goggles that night.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” She hugs me with one arm and her beverage spills out the side. She steps back. “I would have mentioned the party this afternoon, but you said you had to work. How did you get out so early?” She gives me the once-over. “You look awesome, by the way.”

  My face heats, gaze flickering to Lewis. “Thanks. I—um … I filed a complaint about one of the employees. They sent me home for the day.”

  “Serious? What happened?”

  Tyler shakes hands with Zach and they chat off to the side. I fill Nessa in on Drake. Lewis hovers between our two groups, his attention on my and Nessa’s conversation. I know this, because his chest rises, jaw clenching, when I get to the part about Drake threatening me near the elevators this evening.

  Nessa’s mouth drops open. “Holy shit. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” She reaches over and squeezes my arm. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “The casino will do something,” she says, to reassure me.

  I don’t mention my reservations on that front.

  Tyler hands Nessa a fresh drink and slides his arm around her waist, speaking low in her ear. She giggles and he drags her a step away.

 
It’s totally weird to see Tyler flirt. This must be what it’s like to catch a sibling. No wonder Tyler wanted out of the house with Cali and Jaeger building their love nest.

  “Does that bother you?” Lewis saunters closer, his jacket pushed to the side, one hand in his pants pocket, the other holding a drink. I don’t know how he goes from mountain god to city sleek with a change of clothes, but that’s Lewis.

  “What? Tyler talking to Nessa? Why would it?”

  He shrugs lightly. “You’re here with him …”

  “Tyler is Cali’s brother. He’s my friend.”

  Lewis’s inscrutable expression doesn’t change.

  Does he seriously think there’s something going on between us? Tyler is all but nibbling Nessa’s earlobe. “He lives with me and Cali.” Wait—that doesn’t help. “He steals the remote control and picks on me.” And that sounds like foreplay. Crap.

  Tyler is handsome—really handsome. If he didn’t treat me like a sister, and if I had any spark with him whatsoever, I might be interested. “He doesn’t like me like that,” I finally say.

  A knowing smile curls Lewis’s lips. “Any guy would like you like that.”

  I stare, transfixed by his grin, until what he says registers. “I don’t feel that way about him. And he’s not interested, he’s protective.” Which could be construed as a sign of attraction … I’m not helping to prove my point.

  The truth is, there’s only one guy I’m interested in. Everyone else fades into the background, so even if someone were attracted to me, I wouldn’t know it.

  Lewis studies my face. He sets the clear plastic cup he’s holding on the table behind us and reaches for my hand. “Dance?”

  The look in his eye is dark, intent, and it sends a flurry of sparks through my center. Lewis is difficult to read, except when he isn’t, which sounds confusing, but there it is. His actions say more than his words, and sometimes even those conflict.

  I slide my wrap off my shoulders and place it beside my purse on the table our friends commandeered. My black dress is simple, but fitted and short. Over six feet in four-inch heels is a lot of girl, and I didn’t hold back tonight. I’m wearing the ruby chandelier earrings my mom bought me for Christmas and black strappy heels trimmed in gold metal to match the thick bangle on my arm.

  Lewis stares and after an unnatural pause, he reaches around the small of my back without saying a word and leads me to the dance floor. He guides me to the side, where fewer couples gather, and pulls me close. Couples sway to a slow song with a woman crooning in an eerie minor register about summer and saying good-bye to her love.

  Despite my height in heels, Lewis has a few inches on me. Clean linen, sweet pine, and his amazing scent fill my senses. His jaw grazes my forehead, sending goose bumps over my arms. He tucks me in closer, his large, warm body moving in a slow, sensual rhythm.

  My breathing is too fast, but it’s really not something I can control with the object of my desire wrapped around me. I’m in stimulation overload. And because I can’t control myself, I shift until my cheek and the side of my mouth press against his jaw. It seems the logical thing to do.

  His breath catches.

  He started this close-dancing business. I can’t help it if my suddenly overactive hormones want more.

  Lewis glides his chin along my skin—a slightly stubbled chin that looked smooth from a distance. If I turn a fraction more, my lips would touch the edge of his mouth.

  A strong temptation.

  We stay like this, swaying to the music, holding each other, my mouth close, but not close enough, until I can’t take it anymore. I have to know what he’s thinking and since he never says enough, I dip my head back to look in his eyes.

  They’re dark and focused on my mouth.

  His fingers glide down my back, grazing my ass as he reaches around for my hand. I feel that unintentional ass caress in the pit of my belly. His hand tangles with mine, which I realize dropped at some point to palm the side of his thigh.

  Without a word, he walks me to the rear of the room and out two giant doors that open onto the beach. A small group of people gather around a keg, making the atmosphere out here less formal. The rest of the beach is deserted in both directions.

  Lewis begins a determined pace south, our hands linked. I gently draw back. “My shoes,” I say and glance down.

  He kneels at my feet, head bent, and deftly unclasps the delicate buckle at each ankle as I balance with the help of his shoulders. He slides my heels off and stuffs them in his coat pockets. “Okay?”

  No, I’m not okay. That was incredibly sexy. Is he trying to kill me? “Where are we going?”

  He takes my hand again. “Walking.”

  “Just walking?” Shit, where did that come from? Why is my head constantly in the gutter around him?

  He grins, sliding his free hand to my lower back until he’s guiding me. “Zach mentioned he told you we’re part Washoe. How much do you know about our tribe?”

  They talked about me when I wasn’t around? “Nothing.”

  He nods, the noise from the party subsiding to a low murmur as we move farther down the beach. “Up until a couple hundred years ago, the Washoe migrated during the summer to Lake Tahoe. They came here.”

  I point to the sand. “Here?”

  He smiles. “Maybe. Camp Richardson is in an area where they used to gather. They collected winter reserves from the lake and plants, and mingled.” Emphasis on mingled.

  “What kind of mingling?”

  “Visiting old friends, games, races … canoodling.”

  “Canoodling? That’s a very mature word.”

  He gives me a sidelong smile and leans down until his mouth is right above my ear, his breath heating my skin. “I’m a mature kind of guy.”

  Yes, yes he is. Which is different from most guys his age, or any man I’ve ever known. I wait a beat until I’m sure my voice won’t waver. “What kind of canoodling are we talking about?”

  His gaze flickers in the direction of the party. It’s barely audible from this distance, a faint glow across the sand and shore marking its location. “Not much was allowed before marriage, but if it had been, the gatherings probably would have looked a lot like what’s going on back there. Flirting, and other stuff.”

  “Other stuff?”

  “Only on a more serious level.” He gestures behind us. “In there, people maneuver for intimacy.” How polite of him. I would have used a different word. “My ancestors were looking for spouses. They exchanged gifts between families when an agreement was made.”

  “Ah, the old gifts in exchange for a bride. Did the bride’s family hand over cattle as a dowry?”

  “Marriages were all mutually agreed upon, but …” He grins boyishly. “Rabbit, pine nuts, maybe an antelope or two—no cattle around back then.”

  “Exactly what a lady wants,” I say, exaggerating, a smile on my face. “A dowry of rabbits really boosts a lady’s self-esteem.”

  He laughs and the pleasure that courses through me at the sound is like a drug. I want more. I want to make him happy and have him laugh with me all the time. “Hey, rabbits and pine nuts were like gold back then. And the gift exchange went both ways. The groom’s family gave up prime pine nuts with their men.”

  “Okay, we need to end this conversation right now. It’s degraded to a topic about men and nuts, and can only go downhill from here.”

  Lewis chuckles and turns up the bank to a log thicker than the both of us. He takes off his coat and lays it in front on the sand. “Sit?”

  “On your suit? Don’t you want to wear it again?”

  His eyes sparkle. He rubs the chin I’m intimately aware has a light bristle and glances down my body. “After you’ve sat on it. Yes.”

  My face heats. Where did this naughty Lewis come from? He doesn’t throw sexual innuendo around willy-nilly, and it’s incredibly hot.

  Canoodling.

  I plop my ass on the coat and tuck my legs to the side.

>   He sits beside me and leans back as if to gaze at the dark water, but watches me instead. “What happened at the cascades? Why did you push me away?”

  My attraction buzz dies a quick death.

  I cross my arms over my middle as if to protect myself from the truth, but the topic can’t be avoided forever. “You called me Genevieve.”

  He says nothing, waiting.

  Waves on the lake reflect light from the moon like metallic shards, sharp and jagged. “No one calls me Genevieve, except my mom. Drake learned I’m a Genevieve instead of a Jennifer when we first met. That’s all he’s ever called me. When you and I were together, I heard him say it instead of you.” I brush grains of sand off the edge of his coat and scoot back until my rear hits the log. “You caught me off guard, is all.”

  His silence has me worried and I glance over. “Try it,” I tell him.

  “Try what?”

  “My name.”

  He drops his head back until it rests against the tall log. “Genevieve.” His voice is low and seductive without trying, and my gaze lands on his mouth.

  “See?” I clear my throat. “Nothing happened. The only thing I was thinking about was the way you said it.”

  His head tips forward, eyes focused on my face. “How did I say your name?”

  “Sexy.”

  “Hmmm. Last time I was touching you when I said it. Maybe we should perform an experiment.”

  I laugh because it’s such a guy thing to suggest. I’ve never seen this side of Lewis, the playful, flirty side. “What did you have in mind?”

  He runs a warm hand down my bare arm. I’ve been so focused on him, I didn’t notice how effing cold it is. “Genevieve,” he emphasizes and inches closer, “are you cold?”

  I shiver at the sound of his voice, low and gruff. “Yes.” I follow his lead and press my side against his.

  He wraps his arms around my shoulders. “How’s this? Experiment going okay so far, Genevieve?”