Since I wasn’t used to getting up early, I’d picked the most annoying alarm available and laid my phone across the room on my dresser when I went to bed. While most people wouldn’t consider ten o’clock early, it sure as hell felt early when one didn’t hit the mattress until almost daylight.
When the sound of sirens jarred me out of my sleep, I wished that I had kept the phone within arm’s reach, so I could manage to turn it off or sling it against the wall, whichever came first. Instead, I whipped the cover off, flung myself from my warm sheets, and crossed the room in a matter of seconds, so that I could once again be surrounded by blissful silence.
I carried the phone back to the bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress, trying to remember why I’d wanted up so early.
As remnants of sleep dissipated, my conversation with Lexi flooded my brain. Today was the day that she would tell me whether she would go out with me, and considering it was her idea, I certainly didn’t expect her to turn me down.
I took a hot shower and ordered pancakes to go from a local restaurant. After I picked them up, I rushed back to the apartment, trying to get breakfast ready before Lexi woke up.
The apartment was still quiet when I pulled out two plates and arranged a stack of pancakes on each one. I set the bar with service for two and poured us each a glass of milk.
Lexi still hadn’t made an appearance, so I walked to her bedroom door and knocked on it with one knuckle.
“Yeah?”
I could tell I had woken her, but I was finding her as hard to resist as a shot of the Tennessee whiskey I loved so much.
“Want some pancakes?”
Listening for her reply, I heard shuffling noises, and I leaned toward the door, so I could hear better. The door whipped open. Lexi greeted me, her pink silk robe pulled tightly around her narrow waist, her tousled hair falling around her shoulders. Covering her mouth with her closed fist, she yawned. “What time is it?”
“Eleven.”
She groaned. “And you’ve already gotten up and made pancakes? What’s wrong with you?”
“Technically, I didn’t make the pancakes, but I did order them and pick them up. As far as what’s wrong with me, I might need to lay down on the crazy couch for that one. The list is too long, and we’ve got things to do today.”
“We do?”
I leaned against the door frame, admiring her in her disheveled state. My fingers twitched to reach up and smooth the strands of errant hair from her face, and I gave in to the urge, brushing them to the side. “I guess it really depends on whether you agree to go out with me or not. But either way, you should come and eat pancakes with me.”
“Either way, I see no point in passing up a free breakfast.”
“Prolonging the suspense, I see.”
She grinned. “I believe in keeping it interesting.”
“So do I.” Stepping back, I signaled her to step into the hallway in front of me. “So do I,” I repeated, thinking of all the interesting things I could do with her as I watched her walk toward the kitchen.
After drowning her pancakes in butter and syrup, she began cutting them up. “My mother used to make the best pancakes when I was growing up. She’d add chocolate chips and sprinkle powdered sugar hearts on them.”
“Is your mother a good cook?” I asked, watching her stuff a forkful in her mouth.
Smiling, she held her finger up for me to wait while she chewed and swallowed. “Yes. She cooked dinner every night and required us to sit at the table while we were eating. No television or cell phones allowed.”
“Did she work? Outside the home, I mean?”
“Not until I went to school, and then she got a part-time job working at an accountant’s office. After my dad was transferred, she stayed at home. So yeah, she was always around to make sure I didn’t get into any trouble. I definitely remember some days in high school when I wished she was working.”
I stabbed a bite of pancakes with my fork. “You were lucky.”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I guess I was. I was just too stupid to realize how lucky. I used to get so mad at her for not letting me go where I wanted to go and do what I wanted to do. She always had a million questions, and if the answers weren’t to her satisfaction, then I didn’t step foot out the front door.”
“My mother never asked any questions. I know a lot of times parents tend to be more lenient with boys, but she never asked Haley any questions, either. It probably suited her for us to be out of the house.”
“I hope to find some nice, middle ground in there somewhere when I’m a mother.”
“You want to have kids?”
“Yeah, not now, but at some point in the future. Don’t you?” she asked.
I turned my attention back to my pancakes, realizing that the conversation was heading in a direction I didn’t like, and I was the one who had directed it there. “I don’t know.” I needed to change the subject. “So are you going out with me?”
“I don’t know. What’d you have in mind?”
Finishing my pancakes, I pushed my plate back and licked a drop of syrup from my thumb. “Do you have a swimsuit?”
“I do.”
“Then put it on, and let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll know when we get there.”
“Let me put these dishes in the dishwasher.”
I took her plate from her. “I got this. Go get ready.”
She scurried down the hall, and I put the dishes in the sink. Knowing she’d come back and put them in the dishwasher, I went ahead and loaded them and swiped at the counter with a dishcloth. Then, I went to change, too.
We met back up in the living room. I grabbed my backpack, and we walked out to my truck. I unlocked the door for her and held it while she climbed in. Then, I slid behind the wheel, and we were on our way.
“No hints?” she asked, a wide smile on her face.
“It involves water.”
“Uh!” She slapped her palm against her leg. “I’m no Einstein, but I’m pretty sure I figured that much out.”
I laughed at her frustration. “It’s not that big of a deal, but it’s something that I thought might be fun. If you keep on building up the suspense, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”
“There’s no way I’ll be disappointed,” she said. “I’ll be with you.”
Her words shocked me, a rush of warmth flooding me as the meaning of her words penetrated my brain. I glanced at her, wondering if she knew how much they’d affected me, but she was watching the scenery blur by out the passenger-side window.
After four years of fumbling my way through life, trying hard not to feel anything, I wasn’t prepared for the way Lexi chiseled at my carefully constructed barrier of numbness. Part of me wanted to shore up the cracks, but the other part of me wanted her to continue chipping away. Other than Haley, I doubted if there was a woman on the planet who cared whether I lived or died. I had friends, women who might be temporarily saddened. Some of them might even attend my funeral, but that’s where it would end. Hell, it probably wouldn’t take a full week for some other guy to draw their attention and I’d be nothing more than a distant memory.
A funeral. I could head off on a totally new tangent with that. If I died, I probably wouldn’t even have a funeral. My mother certainly wouldn’t spend the money, and Haley wouldn’t be able to afford it, although she may see to it that I was cremated, my ashes tucked into an old liquor bottle. Wouldn’t that be fitting?
Knowing that you wouldn’t be missed after your demise was a sobering thought.
“How much longer until we get there?” Lexi asked, cutting into my morbid musings.
“It’s not far. Maybe five more minutes.”
When I pulled onto the dirt road that led to our destination, she turned to look at me with surprise as my truck bobbed through the woods along the uneven terrain. “Where’re we going?”
“You’re impatient, you know that?”
She lau
ghed. “It’s called anticipation.”
The woods opened into a clearing, and I pulled my truck onto the edge of the grass and parked. “Stay right there,” I instructed Lexi.
I hopped out of the truck, shrugged into my backpack, and walked around to open the door for her. Offering her my hand, she slid her palm into mine and stepped down.
“Come on,” I urged her, entwining our fingers as I tugged her in the direction of the stream.
The water gurgled over a bed of river rocks as it glistened in the sunlight. Periodically, boulders rose from the stream, their masses too heavy to be carried away by the current. Glancing at the sky as I shielded my eyes from the sun, I noticed two hawks circling above like majestic sentinels.
“It’s beautiful.” She paused, bringing us to a stop as she soaked in her surroundings. “Are we going to swim in it?”
“Hell, yeah. There’s a swimming hole not far from here. Come on.” I pulled her hand, and we continued along the edge of the bank, navigating our way around rocks and shrubbery.
“How do you know about this place?” She tripped over a rock, and her other hand shot out and grabbed my arm.
I steadied her. “This property belongs to my friend’s family. We used to come here all the time when we were kids. I called him and asked if we could go swimming, and not only did he assure me that it was fine, but he also told me we’d have the whole place to ourselves.
“Is that the swimming hole?” She pointed to an area ahead flanked on either side by cliffs. Where the stream deepened, the water transitioned from pellucid to opaque, and a large, flat rock jutted out of the stream near the edge of the underground hole.
“That’s it.”
We found a grassy patch of land on the bank, just before the terrain began climbing upward toward the top of the cliffs. I let the backpack slide off my arms and dropped it to the ground with a soft thud.
“You ready to go swimming?” I asked and pulled my shirt over my head, discarding it in a crumpled pile by the backpack.
Her line of vision focused on my chest, and I wasn’t sure whether she was studying my tattoos, admiring my pecs, or avoiding direct eye contact.
“Lexi, are you checking me out?”
“What? No!” Her eyes found my face.
“Are you sure?” I asked, amused that she was obviously disconcerted.
“No. I mean yes.” Her voice heightened in pitch, and then her eyes clamped shut. She inhaled deeply.
I leaned in toward her and whispered, “I’m going to check you out, too, just as soon as you strip down to your bathing suit. Or your birthday suit. Your choice.”
“Mason!” she shrieked.
“You’re so damn cute when you’re flustered.” I reached out and grabbed the zipper of the lightweight hoodie she wore as a cover up and pulled her to me until her face was inches from mine.
My lips hovered just above hers. I wanted her breathing to become erratic. I wanted her pulse to race at my nearness. I wanted her to be aware of me, to feel the anticipation of our kiss.
Her eyes widened as she gazed at me, unsure of my next move. As I gripped the zipper, my knuckles rested against her chest, and I could feel her uneven breaths. Her fingertips reached out and grazed my torso as they felt their way to my hips, and she cupped her palms around my waist and clung to me for support. When I was sure that she felt all the things I wanted her to feel, I brushed my lips against hers, teasing her with the gentlest of touches. My tongue caressed her bottom lip until she opened for me. As I delved into the warmth of her mouth, I slowly unzipped her hoodie and pushed it over her shoulders until it pooled at her feet.
My hands curved around her nape, pulling her to me. With my thumbs, I tilted her head back, my mouth dropping to the tender flesh along the slender column of her neck. I breathed deeply, inhaling her floral scent.
Still grasping her nape with one hand, I allowed the fingers of my other hand to trace a pathway from the front of her neck, over her collarbone, and farther down until I reached the valley between her breasts. I stopped long enough to guide her hands to my shoulders, and then I continued to trail my fingertips along her belly, her muscles twitching beneath my feathery touch as my lips found hers again.
When my fingers dipped into the waistband of her shorts, I captured her tiny gasp of surprise in my mouth. Her hands clutched me tighter as I unfastened the button and wriggled them over her hips. Writhing, she broke away from me, grasping my arms as she stepped out of her sandals and managed to get her shorts past her knees. They dropped to the ground, and she hooked them with her toes, kicking them out of the way.
Holding her at arm’s length, I admired her bikini, its color reminding me of blue curacao liqueur, which I often used to make drinks, Blue Lagoon being one of my favorites. Her bronze skin contrasted sharply against the brilliant hue, and her rich brunette hair and dark eyes gave her the appearance of a mythical goddess of the tropics. Appraising her firm body, I drank in her beauty, her plump lips that had been a favorite of mine since the first day she came into the bar, the curves of her heavy, round breasts as they exceeded the boundaries of the triangles of blue fabric, her slender abdomen with its dangling piercing, and long, slender legs that were made for wrapping around a man’s waist.
Unable to control my body’s appreciation of her femininity, I hardened with desire. “Come on,” I urged her, “we’re going swimming.”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the water’s edge. As I walked in, she pulled me back.
“It’s cold.”
“I know. It’s coming from the surrounding mountains. You’ll get used to it.” I tugged on her hand again, urging her into the stream.
As we gingerly stepped along the rocky bottom, we waded knee-deep. By the time the water hit her waist, she was sucking in air.
I plunged myself beneath the surface. When I came up, I smoothed my hands over my hair, squeezing out the excess water.
“Just do it,” I told her.
An unsure expression crossed her features as she gazed at the stream and rubbed her arms, trying to generate heat to ease the goose bumps.
I smacked the creek, sending a spray of water over her. “The pool was a lot colder than this when you pushed me in.”
She held her breath and submersed herself. When she came back up, she squealed, “It’s freezing!” Her hardened nipples strained against her top, and I had the overwhelming urge to free them from the fabric and warm them with my mouth.
“Why don’t we have a little friendly competition to heat things up?” I raised my brows in question as I awaited her answer.
“What did you have in mind?” She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to warm herself, squeezing her cleavage together in the process.
“Let’s race to the other side.”
“And what do I get if I win?” she asked, cocking her head.
“Bragging rights aren’t enough for you?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not much of a bragger.”
“Okay, then. Pick your pleasure.”
“If I win, you have to give me a foot massage after work tomorrow.”
I tilted my head back and pretended to think about her offer. “Okay. I guess I can spend half an hour rubbing your smelly feet.”
She splashed me. “You know my feet don’t stink.”
I held my hands up in a conciliatory manner. “Fine. I’ll give you a foot massage if you win, but if I win….”
“If you win, what?”
“If I win, you have to swing from that rope and jump off the cliff.” I pointed to the thick rope that dangled from the sturdy branch of an old oak. The tree grew at the top of the cliff, its branches twisting out over the stream.
She looked in the direction that I pointed and saw the rope swaying gently in the breeze. Her mouth dropped open in horror. “Do you know how high that is?”
“You’re not chicken, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then we have a deal?
”
She smirked. “I like a little oil with my massage.”
“And I think a flip or two would be nice, rather than a boring jump straight into the water.”
She dove into the stream, her arms slicing through the water as she raced through the deeper water toward the other side.
Amused, I waited patiently as she swam like piranhas were inches away from nibbling on her toes. When she reached the cliff on the other side, she slapped it victoriously and scanned the water in search of me.
“Mason! You didn’t even try!”
I shot her a grin as I splashed the cold water on my chest. “Why would I want to pass up the chance to use massage oil on you?”
“You could’ve at least pretended like you were trying.” She pushed her long dark tresses away from her face as she eased back into the water and swam lazily toward me.
“I was trying—trying to stay here and keep cool because let me tell you something, love.” I let out a low whistle. “You are sexy as hell in that bathing suit.”
She approached me. “Here,” she said, splashing me. “Let me help you cool off.”
When she didn’t relent, I finally started splashing her in return. Her peals of laughter echoed between the cliffs. In one final move, she sprang toward me, her arms pressing against my shoulders in an attempt to push me back into the water.
I caught her by the waist as we both plunged backward, the water rushing in over our heads. When I regained my footing, I pulled her up with me, hugging her against my chest. She wrapped one arm around my neck and used her hand to squeegee the water off her face. Opening her eyes, she smiled, drops of water clinging to her long dark lashes. Damn, she was gorgeous. I froze, wanting desperately to study her face, to admire her beauty, her flawless skin, her hypnotic eyes, her intoxicating mouth.
I’d seen my share of beautiful women, but there was something about Lexi that drew me in and forced me to take notice. When she realized that I wasn’t smiling, that I was studying her face intently, the smile faded from her face, too.
Her dark eyes watched me, and I knew that she was wondering what I was thinking, why our horseplay from moments ago had now been replaced with this serious connection between us.
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