Sounds like a guy’s dating motto. “Hey, now. I don’t see a fish on the end of your hook. I guess it takes a delicate touch.”
His eyes dart to my lap and my fingers curled there. A tingly sensation runs down my back, warming my belly. He looks me in the eye. “Feel free to exhibit your delicate touch anytime you like.”
It’s official. Jaeger’s brain is in the gutter too.
Now I’m in trouble.
He re-baits my hook and hands me my line.
Time to nip this attraction in the bud. “So whatever happened to you? I thought you were a star athlete. Skiing, wasn’t it?”
A beat passes. He stares at the water. “Downhill.”
I wait for him to continue. He seems relaxed, but too still, like I’ve hit on something important.
“I don’t ski anymore,” he says, and adjusts his feet into a wider stance on the boat’s metal bottom, elbows braced on his knees. “A bad injury took me out of competitive sports.”
Definitely a sore spot, though he appears calm enough. According to my brother, Jaeger was an amazing athlete. He was on track for the Olympics, from what I recall. That’s a big deal in a small town. It’s also one reason I never thought he noticed me. I was Tyler’s skinny little sister. Jaeger had a serious girlfriend and barely glanced my way when he visited.
“What do you do now?”
He takes a swig of the beer he’s been nursing since we rowed out. “I carve wood.”
An image of logs with bear heads etched into them and wooden totem poles on the side of Highway 89 flashes through my mind. Wow, this poor guy’s life has seriously declined since high school.
“What about you?” He looks over, studying my face. “You just graduated. What’s your next step? I’m assuming the casino gig is short-term.”
God, if it wasn’t, my mom would kill me. She busted her ass at the casinos for twenty-two years to keep us afloat. I have one of those deadbeat dads who calls a couple of times a year, and despite his brilliant brain, can barely hold down a job long enough to cover his expenses, let alone pay child support. Dad’s never had his shit together, which meant my mom had to be the adult and raise Tyler and me. She gave up asking Dad for help long before they separated when I was two.
“Yeah, short-term.”
Jaeger continues to stare and I realize I haven’t exactly answered the question. I clear my throat. “I’ve been accepted into law school.”
He nods, but the gesture is stiff. “Where?”
“Harvard.”
A long pause follows.
Law school is what I’ve worked for, but somehow, it doesn’t feel real, or … right. My visit to the campus last semester solidified those concerns. I’ve never seen so many preppy kids in one spot. Talk about not fitting in. I grew up around the casinos with a single mom. I’m smart and scrappy, not privileged. The adjustment to campus life at Harvard is going to be huge, the loans crippling. If I work my ass off this summer, I’ll have enough for half of my room and board—for the first year. That doesn’t include tuition, which costs five times as much. That’s where my high-paying legal position will come in after I graduate. I’ll essentially be working to pay for my education.
“So, you’ll be leaving soon?” His tone is flat.
I don’t answer right away. I can’t say anything, because even though I pursued this path, I’m not excited about it. No one wants to invest a fortune in school, but it’s more than that. There are programs that cost less. I’m just not excited about law, period.
There, I’ve allowed the thought nagging at the back of my mind to rise to the surface.
My mom wanted her kids to be doctors and lawyers—important people. I think that’s why she went after my dad all those years ago. He’d graduated from Berkeley with honors. Mom discovered too late that sometimes a hardworking man is more successful than a brilliant one.
She couldn’t afford full tuition and board for college, but Mom paid half of Tyler’s and my college educations by working two full-time jobs at the casinos. She wanted better for us. We did well in school and her efforts weren’t a waste. Which is why I can’t tell her I don’t want the brilliant future laid out for me.
“I guess.”
Jaeger’s gaze drills into me. “You—”
“Jaeger,” Mason calls out in a loud whisper. “We’d better go.”
Jaeger swivels his head and we catch the motorboat approaching. It’s a little ways away, but heading straight for us.
Jaeger reels in his line and drops his pole in the bottom of the boat. He grabs both oars. “Hold on.”
I set my pole down and Jaeger’s first thrust of the oars jerks me back. We’re gliding across the surface fast enough to make hair sweep from my face in the breeze. His arms are like machines, cutting through the water, shoulder muscles bunched and rippling beneath the long-sleeved shirt he threw on over his T-shirt earlier. I can’t stop staring. He may have given up the Olympics and professional sports, but he’s fit. Must be all that whittling.
Jaeger gets us back to shore in a tenth of the time it took us to get out. He hops from the boat onto the sand and pulls me and the boat up the beach until only half the vessel lies in the water.
He hands me his keys and reaches out. “Hurry. You girls wait in my truck.”
I pocket the keys and grab hold of his fingers, determining the best way to jump to shore without dunking or injuring myself. Jaeger made it look easy, but he’s twice my size.
I brace my foot on the tip of the bow, but my sandal slips on the metal surface. I overcorrect and fall backward.
Jaeger whisks his arm around my back and lifts me from the boat. For a second, my feet are suspended, my face level with his. He’s holding me up with one arm like an embrace, palm flat beneath the side of my breast. His chest is solid and warm against mine, but it’s his mouth inches away that has my complete attention.
My breath comes in short gasps. Everything else but hot attraction escapes my consciousness.
Jaeger loosens his grip and I slide to the ground, my legs wobbling as they hit the sand. I stumble toward Gen, glancing back once to catch Jaeger pushing our boat toward the dock.
I link arms with Gen. “What’s going on?” My voice sounds breathless.
“Mason says the boat on its way over is the ranger checking for licenses. Nothing serious if we get caught, but the fines are steep.”
We climb inside Jaeger’s truck and I maneuver into the back seat of the cab. It’s light out and I can see his vehicle more clearly. Silver exterior and clean. The truck is brand new. Not bad for a totem pole salesman.
“You catch anything?” Gen asks, her eyes glowing from our adventure.
“Yeah, but we threw it back. Catch and release.” I don’t mention the size of my fish. “How about you?”
“Nothing. Mason says he’ll get me a license and we can go another time.”
An hour ago, I would have considered that the worst form of torture, but now the idea isn’t so unappealing. There’s something to be said for sitting on a calm lake drinking beer as the sun rises. Or maybe it’s the company that makes the difference.
Even after he mentioned his carving career, I’m drawn to Jaeger. Forced to give up his dream, he created a new life for himself.
“What about you? Did you have fun with Mason?” I quirk my brows.
Gen shakes her head with a bemused smile and looks out the window. “He’s a good buddy.”
A good buddy? Jaeger’s seducing my panties off with his dirty fishing talk, and Gen and Mason are forming a friendship?
No, no, no. Either Mason steps up his game, or Gen and Jaeger are getting paired next time. Let her panties drop for the guy. I have a boyfriend.
“What about you? How was Jaeger?”
“He’s a good guy, Gen. You should consider him if things don’t work out with Mason.”
Gen tilts her head and eyes me. Her lips part, like she’s about to say something, but the passenger door opens.
“All good!
” Mason announces.
Jaeger slides into the driver’s seat and our gazes collide in the rear-view mirror. I look away.
“Ranger checked our licenses and let us go,” Mason continues. “We’ll plan ahead next time and get you one-day passes.”
I don’t say anything, because I like the idea of doing this again.
Only next time, Gen goes with Jaeger.
Chapter Five
I amble into the kitchen at close to two in the afternoon. We don’t usually arrive home from work at six-thirty a.m., but the fishing expedition made our wake-up especially late. Gen’s by the sink, her eyes half-lidded, slowly scrubbing coffee stains in a trance-like state from the Adult Sippy Cup mug. She yawns. “Eloww.”
Translation: Hello. She hasn’t had her coffee yet, so she’s technically not awake. I pour mine into the Sexy Bitch mug. There are about fifty to choose from. We have more mugs than we do dishes.
I open the fridge and scan the door. There you are, my beauties.
I pop the lid off my favorite deli jar, spear a green olive with a fork, and jam it in my mouth.
Gen gags. “That’s revolting. Why are you doing this to me before I’ve had my coffee?”
Innocently, I offer her some.
“Bitch,” she says without much power behind it. If ever there was a time to tease Gen, it’s in the morning, when she’s at her weakest.
I hold up my mug. “That’s Sexy Bitch to you.”
Thirty minutes later, Gen’s eyelids are fully operational and she’s flipping through a People magazine propped on her lap in one of the lounge chairs out back. I’m in the chair next to her in a bikini top I threw on above my pajama bottoms, my sketchpad on the table beside me. I started doodling in elementary school. It’s turned into an obsession.
My eyes are closed, body angled toward the sun. I have on SPF one thousand so my skin doesn’t crisp and fall off. I like the feel of the sun on me. I’m a pretend sunbather.
The scrape of a page turning rustles beside me. “A waitress from work invited us to dinner tonight.”
I pop open an eyelid. “One of the cougars?”
Gen pulls in her chin and shakes her head. “No, definitely not one of them. Nessa’s our age and really nice.”
“Sounds fun, but I’ve got a Skype date with Eric.”
Finally, finally, I managed to pin down my boyfriend via text. I glance at the exchange on my phone from earlier, a smile on my face.
Cali: Thinking of our tubing trip down the American River with all this glacial water nearby. Totally your fault we tipped. Saving that beer was not worth it!
Eric: Worth it.
Cali: Miss you. Skype tonight? 8 p.m.?
Eric: Sure.
Gen shivers, elbows pressed to her sides. “In that case, I’m glad I won’t be around.”
I set my phone back in my lap. Eric and I have been known to discuss sex around Gen. It could be because we have no shame, or it could be because it drives her crazy—okay, it’s both.
Somehow, though, I don’t think our conversation will cover Sex-Skyping. We haven’t spoken over the phone in weeks. I’m more interested in getting reassurance that everything is okay. My instincts were right that day on the hike. Something is up with him.
I smile anyway. “Probably so.” No point in drawing conclusions until I talk to Eric.
Mostly I’m nervous. We’ve never gone this long without talking. Once I know everything is fine, I’m sure my head will clear over this thing with Jaeger.
It’s midnight, and I’ve officially been stood up.
I’ve never been stood up—and by my own boyfriend?
Friggin’ hell!
Digging into my second pint of butter pecan ice cream, the sound of the bolt scraping comes from the front door. Gen walks in. Well, stomps, really.
I kick up my fuzzy slippers onto the retro wood coffee table (it’s actually old as shit, but I’m trying to think positive) of our rental cabin and wait for Gen to tell me what’s up.
She eyes my carton of ice cream and huffs out a sigh. “Out of every Ben and Jerry’s flavor in existence you picked butter pecan? What about Cookies ’n Cream, Super Fudge Chunk, or, I don’t know, vanilla?” She tosses her purse on the floor and plops next to me on the couch, staring straight ahead.
I glance at her, the discarded purse, and then the tub of ice cream resting on my belly, the spoon sticking out like a flag. “Ouch. What’s wrong with butter pecan?”
Another long exhale, this time through her nose. “Let me have a bite of your disgusting ice cream.”
“Disgusting ice cream is an oxymoron. Get a spoon, and I may allow your grubby fingers to grace the lip of my carton.”
Gen hoists herself from the couch and shuffles into the kitchen. The sound of drawers opening and closing and dishes clanking in the sink comes from behind. There are no clean spoons. I know this because I took the last one. If she succeeds in finding a clean spoon, I will happily donate my firstborn child to—
Gen enters the living room holding up a spoon like it’s a trophy. It’s bent at a sixty-degree angle with divots on the sides from the garbage disposal, but it’s legit.
Damn. Bye-bye firstborn.
She plops next to me and digs a massive scoop from my carton. Easing the spoon from her mouth, she considers her warped utensil. “I met someone.”
Ahhh, so that’s what this is about. Sounds promising. I almost forget my Eric misery with this news.
“He didn’t talk to me.”
Okay, maybe not so promising. “And why is he of interest? Steer clear of the A-holes, Gen. We’re looking for good guys.”
“I know—believe me, I know.”
“But?”
“He kept looking at me, like he couldn’t help himself, and then I realized one of the girls at the party is his girlfriend.”
I choke on a drizzle of butter pecan running down my throat. “Oh God, no. Please tell me you are not interested in this guy. I thought the last one was an anomaly. Are you attracted to two-timing bastards, or something?”
Gen angles her head. “Let me finish.” Her look is exasperated. “Once I realized he had a girlfriend I wrote him off, okay. But—”
Oh, no. Nooo. She’s rubbing the sharp divots in her spoon as if to smooth them out, her train of thought lost. I’m afraid to think where this is going, and refrained from exploding all over her ass by a hair. The last thing she needs is the situation she escaped.
“—we sort of ran into each other in the hallway, like literally, we bumped into each other.” She turns to me, her eyes searching my face. “Cali, I’ve never felt that before. When he touched me … God, I don’t know how to explain it.”
Oh, I think I know. I grind my teeth, vividly remembering when Jaeger caught me from falling out of the fishing boat and the chemical reaction that little embrace created. Hormones—pheromones—whatever. Lots of them.
This is not good. It’s all wrong. Neither of us should be feeling this way. Not with these guys. It’s my stupid advice coming back to bite me in the ass. I pushed Gen to get out there and look what’s happened. If she hooks-up with A-hole number two, it’ll be all my fault.
She shakes her head. “I’ve never felt that kind of attraction. Not with anyone, especially not my ex. I can’t stop thinking about this guy.” Her petite nose scrunches. “It’s annoying.”
I hear you, sister.
I shift until I’m square with her. “Listen to me—forget that guy. He’s no good or he wouldn’t be staring at you with his girlfriend in the room, and rubbing on you—”
“He didn’t—”
“Whatever. Point is, you have the power to choose. You don’t have to fall in love with someone who will break your heart. That’s not love.”
She sniffs in a deep breath and nods.
“Don’t forget Mason and Jaeger. They’re both hot and single. Very important detail right there.”
Gen looks at me as if she’s miffed. “It’s not like I wanted a c
heating boyfriend.” Her voice catches and now I feel bad.
I put my hand on hers. “No, but not all guys are trustworthy and you need to be careful. Stay away from the ones who give you—” I shake my head and look around. “—I don’t know, a gut feeling that they’re hiding something. There’s a good chance they are.”
A vision of Eric flashes in my mind. I should take my own advice …
“You’re right.”
I watch her, trying to detect what’s going on inside her pretty head as she chews the corner of her lip. “Eat more ice cream—it’ll make you feel better.”
Gen digs her warped spoon into my carton, and I do too. Sugar-shock therapy after the evening we’ve both had is in full effect.
“The good thing is, you never have to see this guy again.”
She glances at me guiltily.
“What? You didn’t make plans with him …”
“No! But, I sort of made plans to meet Nessa tomorrow. They’re friends. He may be there.”
“So, don’t go.”
“Awesome.” She glares. “I’ll just become a hermit. You’re the one who pushed me to get out.”
Dammit, she’s totally right. Foiled by my own advice.
“Look, come with me,” she says. “They’re going to that place you talked about, Zephyr Cove. It’ll be fun and you’ll be there to intervene if I need it, which I won’t. The guy … he doesn’t seem the aggressive type. This is probably all one-sided anyway. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Chapter Six
Eleven in the morning is pretty early given our swing shifts. Even on our days off, we stay up late and sleep in late. But some of Lake Tahoe’s best experiences occur in the a.m., which is why I’m on the sand at eleven in the friggin’ morning, waiting for Gen’s friends to arrive.
I’m face down on my towel and Gen’s sitting next to me, fidgeting with her purse and her trashy book, and anything else her hands graze. I so have a bad feeling about this outing. It’s her life, but it’s hard to watch someone you care for make the same mistake twice.
Nothing actually happened between her and the guy she met last night, so I say nothing and attempt to simmer down. Matter of fact, I’ll take a catnap while we wait.
Deep Blue Page 4
