Perfectly Charming (A Morning Glory Novel Book 2)

by Liz Talley

  “Ryan?” she called from the dock.

  He left the fish marinating in the galley and stuck his head out. Jess stood with Morgan and her friend Becky on the dock, holding a beach bag and a plastic sack with what looked to be tortilla chips.

  “Hey, ladies, welcome aboard the Beagle. Drop your bags and grab a beer,” Ryan said, gesturing to the freshly washed deck.

  Jess eyed him. “Beagle, huh? Wasn’t that the name of Charles Darwin’s boat?”

  Ryan lifted a shoulder. So he’d named his boat after Darwin’s research vessel. Hey, you could take the geek out of the lab, but you couldn’t take the lab out of the geek. “Don’t know. I had a dog that was a beagle. I wasn’t going to go with Peanut for my boat’s name. No one would want to fish on a boat named Peanut.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Jess said, taking his hand as he helped her aboard. She looked good, but then she’d always suited him with her long limbs and wild curls. Both Becky and Morgan wore bikini tops paired with athletic shorts and flip-flops. Conversely, Jess wore a T-shirt, tennis skirt, and sneakers. Her sex appeal wasn’t the blown-up obvious type. She dressed like a lady who didn’t like to show the goods, which of course made Ryan want very much to see those goods. Some girls knew how to build anticipation. “I brought some beer and chips. Not much of a cook, but I can use my credit card.”

  “Come with me, and we’ll put them in the galley.” He turned to Becky and Morgan. “Ladies, make yourselves comfortable. I have a few of my friends from the marina coming, too. Oh, and my friends Francine and Max … if they can get a sitter for their four-year-old. We’ll shove off in half an hour or so.”

  He headed back to the galley. Jess followed, setting the chips and six-pack of craft beer on the small counter. Looking around, she said, “I like your boat.”

  And I like everything about you, Jess Culpepper.

  But he didn’t say that. Because he’d spooked her a bit a few nights ago at the diner by flat-out asking if he had a shot with her. He should have remembered how Jess had always been. Back in high school, she’d been a measure twice, pour once chemistry partner. Jess was confident, but it took her a while to get there. Once she made a decision, she held on with both hands, which was why letting go of that jackass Benton Mason seemed to be hard for her. So Ryan wouldn’t push anything between them. He preferred an organic approach. If something happened, it happened. He’d be more than happy to scratch any itches she had. But if they never progressed past friendship, he’d live. But he didn’t want to. Because he wanted her … in his arms, on his lips, in his bed, enveloping all his senses.

  But if he had any shot of making it a reality, he’d have to be patient. Practice being a friend. That had been in chapter fifteen of How to Get Girls Without Even Trying, one of the books he’d studied when he’d decided to become the cool version of Ryan. The writer implied a modern man had to know when to press a woman for more and when to pull back and give space. With Jess, he’d definitely employ the pullback philosophy.

  “Thank you. She’s a good boat,” he said, opening the small fridge and nestling the six-pack inside. “Want one now?”

  “Not yet. Morgan made to-go margaritas, and I had one on the way over.”

  “She makes good margaritas. She was a bartender once.”

  “Well, it was good,” she said, turning and watching as Morgan and Becky slathered themselves with suntan oil. “Are they actually putting oil on themselves? Becky should know better. She’s a nurse.”

  “Knowing better doesn’t seem to stop people. I saw three nurses standing outside the hospital smoking.”

  “I know. What’s with that? And really, I’m acting like an old maw-maw. And I sound like my mother. God help me.” Jess walked over and whisked the hulls of the used limes into the small bag he had tied to the drawer handle. “What kind of boat is this? Can you sleep on this thing? Or is it just for fishing?”

  “It’s a forty-six-foot Newton, customized specifically for charter fishing, but we have a few bunks down there”—he jabbed his thumb behind him—“for overnight fishing trips.”

  “You go out overnight?”

  He nodded, pleased she was interested. He’d had a few girls on the boat before, but none had ever seemed interested in the boat. They liked the sunsets, the sunbathing, and the sex on the deck with no one but God and a few seagulls watching. But none had asked about his boat. “For tuna trips and whatnot. Have to get at least sixty miles out to catch them. I went out to a few platforms yesterday and caught this. Well, a few bankers caught this. I kept one.”

  “That’s interesting. Must have a big engine.”

  The way she said it made it sound sexy. Or maybe he was reading too much into everything, because once again, like that skinny thirteen-year-old kid, he was crushing on her. “It’s decent. I can get it up to twenty-eight knots.”

  “I don’t even know what that means. I’ll assume that’s fast. Can I help you do anything? I can chop or peel.”

  “No, enjoy yourself. I actually like cooking. I like the monotonous rhythm of chopping onions and”—he lifted a small basket of grape tomatoes—“these babies.” Lord, he was being weird, talking about fruit, calling them babies. Good Lord.

  Morgan poked her head inside, saving him from any other asinine comments. “Some dudes just parked in the shell lot. Think they could be your friends. Thought you’d want to know.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be right out.” He’d invited Logan Yount, an accountant and avid fisherman, and Marcus Geyer, another boat captain, to join them for fish tacos and a sunset cruise. Probably a little OCD of him, but he liked round numbers of people. Made sense.

  “Wait, this isn’t a setup, is it?” Jess asked, rising and looking unsettled.

  “No. I thought Becky might like Marcus. He’s funny and very flirty. Seems her type.” Ryan covered the tuna he’d rubbed with garlic and ran water over his hands.

  “Is the accountant for me?”

  Ryan jerked his gaze to Jess. “God, I hope not.”

  Jess’s hair was in a ponytail and big hoop earrings hung at her earlobes. She wore very little makeup—a little gloss and maybe some mascara. She looked naturally gorgeous in a Jennifer Lopez sort of way. He’d be damned if he let Logan lay one pale, number-crunching finger on her.

  Jealousy was a junkyard dog that sank its teeth into him.

  Ryan shook off the ridiculous urge to shove everyone off his boat and jet away with just Jess. Patience. That’s what he needed, so he pasted on a casual smile and stuck his head out to find Marcus and Logan stepping onto the boat. “Hey, guys. This is Morgan and Becky.” He pointed to each of the now glistening women.

  Marcus and Logan both wore shades, but he could see the approval in the way they said hello to the ladies.

  His phone vibrated, and he looked down at the text before glancing back up at his friends. “Drop your beer in the ice chest. Marc, if you’ll untie us, I’ll fire up the boat. Just got a text that Frannie and Max can’t make it. No sitter.”

  Jess appeared at his elbow and gave a wave to the newcomers. “Hi, guys. I’m Jess. I work with Becky and live next door to Morgan.”

  After all the how-do-you-dos were said, Jess followed him back to the galley, which pleased him. He wanted her to want to be with him.

  “So how come you didn’t want me to put my beer in the cooler?” she asked.

  “Because I knew you’d bring the good stuff, and Logan is an accountant.”

  “And?”

  Ryan grinned. “He brings cheap beer. Have you ever met an extravagant accountant?”

  Jess tilted her head. “Actually, no.”

  “It’s because they don’t exist.” Ryan waved his hand like a magician in front of Jess’s face, making her giggle. Which was something he’d never seen before. The Jess he remembered—and the sad one who’d walked with him on the beach over a week ago—didn’t giggle.

  “You’re a funny guy, Ryan. How come I never knew this?” Jess said, sliding by him, obviously p
lanning on going back outside with the rest of the party. Her body brushed against his back, and he almost stepped back, pinning her against the side of the cabinet just so he could feel her fully against him … so she wouldn’t leave him.

  Which was insanity.

  “Because I was too busy trying to be invisible? And being around you made me extra nervous,” he said.

  “But no longer, huh?” Jess said, slipping out onto the boat deck with the others. Ryan headed for the captain’s chair, trying to affirm her words within himself. Fading into the background, while often comfortable, wouldn’t get him what he wanted—a life. So, yeah, he no longer tried to be invisible, and he was no longer nervous around women.

  Five minutes later he pulled the Beagle away from the marina and motored out into the bay. Behind him, his guests sprawled on the cushioned benches, sipping cold beer and enjoying the wind on their faces and the sun on their shoulders. And this pleased Ryan. He liked having people with him. Sometimes. Like on days like this when he moved his boat across the still waters bathed gold by the sun. The salty tang on his tongue harkened to olden times when sailors found respite in the swish of the waters against a hull. Days like today scrubbed away any residual doubt he’d made the right decision when he stood in his apartment and declared himself done with being Dr. Ryan Reyes, researcher, scientist, and Comic-Con annual pass holder. The boat skimming the waters, racing along the infinite horizon, was like poetry, giving him something he’d lacked in his life.

  Clarity.

  After twenty minutes of cruising along Santa Rosa Sound, he entered the pass into the Intracoastal Waterway and motored into Big Lagoon. When he neared Redfish Point, he killed the engines and dropped the anchor. It was the perfect place to bob on the Gulf and use the grill he’d installed in the galley.

  “It’s so pretty out here,” Becky said, crossing her legs and tossing back her shoulders, giving her best Playboy Bunny impression. Jess sat with her legs pulled to her, long arms looped around her knees. The guys sprawled, tanned legs stretched, visors shielding their faces. Morgan lay on one bench seat and looked asleep.

  “Morgan?” he called.

  She stirred and yawned. “Out too late last night.”

  The sun was a good hour and a half away from sinking into the waters. “I’m going to cook the tuna and set out the chips and salsa. Y’all want to swim?” he asked.

  The girls shook their heads. The guys kicked off their flip-flops and dived overboard.

  “You can swim over to the dunes. Beach is on the other side,” Ryan said to the girls.

  “We’ll just hang here and watch those morons get eaten by a shark or something,” Becky drawled, cracking open another Coors Light. Obviously Marcus had been classy enough to buy Coors. Last time he’d brought Natty Light.

  Just after Becky said the word shark, a fin appeared. Jess’s eyes widened, and she pointed. “Oh my God,” she breathed.

  “Dolphins,” Ryan said, smiling.

  “Oh yeah. Of course.” Jess looked embarrassed. Which was cute.

  Marcus and Logan tried to swim out to play with the squeaking sea friends, but the dolphins were having none of it. Ryan went back into the galley and started heating the corn tortillas in the microwave. He could hear the girls chatting, a soft, higher-pitched pleasantness that was sweet accompaniment to his preparations. He wished Jess would come back inside and talk to him, but he’d given her no real reason to do so. He was giving her space. Even if he wanted to crowd her, gather her to him, kiss the hell out of her.

  A few days ago, she’d made it clear she wasn’t ready to go where he wanted to go. Yet. So he’d backed off, and they’d spent a pleasant evening talking about her friend Rosemary, who’d recently become engaged to a guy who was opening a pizza place in Morning Glory. They chatted about their ten-year reunion. She had been a committee member; he’d not bothered to attend. Wasn’t like anyone missed him. Then they’d talked about Dr. Who, Celtic music, and his work at Caltech. With Jess, he didn’t have to guard against his inner nerd showing. He could talk passionately about his comic book collection, and she could mention people from back home without have to explain their neuroses or give background. It had been the easiest nondate he’d ever been on.

  They’d driven back to Del Luna with the top down, stars twinkling above them, and all he could think of as they blew past condos, beach restaurants, and the state park was how much he wanted to taste her. Her hair blew back, whipping, occasionally brushing his cheek. She smelled like summer—coconut and vanilla. Her sundress moved up and down her firm thighs and the soft cotton molded her breasts. A necklace with a silver turtle charm hung down, brushing the neckline, teasing his thoughts. Her wide mouth curved when he turned up “Peaceful Easy Feeling” by the Eagles and started singing along. It should have been foreplay.

  It wasn’t.

  They said good-bye in the driveway of her condo with a quick hug. He might or might not have huffed her hair like teenage glue addict. And then he’d gone home alone. Alooooone.

  He wanted to kiss her, tell her to let go, to not worry, to be in the moment. With him. But chapter fifteen held him back. Give her space. Be her friend.

  “Hey,” Jess said from the open doorway.

  Inside he did a happy dance though outside he remained cool. Sliding the jalapeño he’d diced onto a saucer, he quickly wiped the counter. The small cuts burning on his fingertips were hazards of being a fisherman. “Everyone ready to eat?”

  “I think so,” she said, taking in the food. “Uh, that guy Logan just asked me out.”

  Ryan froze. “He did?”

  “Yeah, out of the blue. We were talking about dolphins, and he asked me if I wanted to go on a dolphin cruise tomorrow afternoon. It was odd.”

  Not so odd. Jess was naturally gorgeous and didn’t try as hard as Morgan and Becky. Logan was the kind of guy who liked cool chicks. Logan also liked big breasts, which was why he’d hoped Morgan’s pendulous attributes might hypnotize him … or Marcus. Either way, as long as one of them took her focus off Ryan. Obviously, he’d underestimated how much Jess would appeal to his friend. “So are you going to go? I thought you weren’t ready for … dating.”

  “I kind of have to. I already admitted to having no plans for tomorrow. Besides, turning him down would have made tonight awkward.” Jess frowned.

  But she could turn Ryan down? Okay, so she hadn’t actually turned him down. Merely implied she wasn’t ready to move beyond where they were. But now she was going on a date with Logan the accountant? Perfect.

  “You’ll have fun. He’s nice guy,” Ryan said. ’Cause what was he going to say? I invite assholes to my party. Don’t get near him. And damn sure don’t go dolphin watching with him? Or maybe he should tell her he wanted to peel her clothes from her body, lick her stomach, move lower …

  No. That’s stalkerish. Control your impulses. Remember who you are—a seasoned pro who can control his desires, his mouth, and his need to watch Star Trek.

  “Are you sure you didn’t suggest he ask me out?” Jess asked, her eyes narrowing.

  “Why would I do that?” His tone said it all. He didn’t want any other man near her. Hadn’t she gotten that from the other night? Or maybe she hadn’t really known what he’d asked. Maybe she still thought of him as some kid.

  “Because I’m new to town and you’re being a good friend?”

  Okay, she hadn’t gotten the message. He’d read a lot of books on understanding women, but perhaps he needed to be more clear about what he wanted … without talking about licking her body. “I’m not that good of a friend.”

  Jess stared at him for a moment. “So I should probably go with him. It would embarrass him for me to back out of it even if I still feel like … ugh, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or who I am supposed to be anymore. This is so stupid.”

  Ryan didn’t offer any words. Because at that moment, it occurred to him that maybe his plan to grow into something more with Jess wouldn’t work beca
use she was too screwed up. And it pissed him off that asshole Benton Mason was once again the reason Ryan couldn’t have what he wanted. Back at Morning Glory High, Ryan’s dream was to just be normal. Presently, his goal was to have Jess. But like a bad bean burrito, Benton’s selfish, immature actions were stinking things up for Ryan. Jess’s ex-husband had pushed Jess aside, but he’d hurt her so much in the process she couldn’t find her way back to normal.

  “Oh God,” Jess said, slapping a hand against her forehead. “I’m that woman. Oh Christ, please don’t let me be that woman. A whiny, pathetic loser. I mean, I ran in here and told you like you were going to tell me what to do. I’ve lost my goddamn mind. Sweet Jesus, who am I?” She spun to walk out of the galley, obviously disgusted with herself.

  He caught her arm. “Hey, you just took the Lord’s name in vain four times in ten seconds. Come on, Mississippi. Don’t make me call your old Sunday school teacher.”

  “Seriously,” she said, her eyes shining with disbelief. “That’s your response?”

  Oops. Try again, Ryan.

  “I’m joking. Look, stop thinking so hard about everything. Chill,” he said.

  “Chill,” she repeated. Then she curled her fingers over his. “I should just chill. You’re right.”

  “Hey, it’s been my motto for the last year, and it’s working for me,” he said. Her touch wasn’t electrifying or erotic, but it was somehow profound. She’d never touched him intentionally before, and her fingers curled against his reminded him of eighteenth-century poetry, like Pope’s “The Rape of the Lock,” the ironic profundity of a simple gesture taken to new heights. To her it was no big deal, or perhaps it was; he didn’t know. But to him, it confirmed only what he knew. Ryan Reyes hadn’t lost any of what he’d felt for Jess Culpepper. She still had him in her hand, whether she knew it or not. He was poised to be her puppy. Embarrassing but true.

  Whatever she wanted, he’d give her. Even if that meant watching her have it with another man.