by Emma Tharp
"Sounds like a plan to me. Let me grab us a blanket." Dean runs into the other room and when he comes back, he takes his glass of wine and we head outside.
It's a stark contrast to the noise and chaos of the concert. Now, everything is quiet, save a few crickets and the lapping of the water on the shore.
We make our way to the end of the dock and Dean spreads out the blanket for us. It's a beautiful evening, not a cloud in the sky, perfect for stargazing. It's cooler now, too, which feels nice on my sticky skin. The day was warm and I danced all night—the air feels perfect.
Maybe it's the buzz from the drinks at the concert or my overall feeling of euphoria from tonight, but I need to know more about Dean.
We both lie on our backs and look at the sky. "I want to know more about you. What is your life like the other fifty-one weeks a year?" I turn my head in his direction.
He rolls over to face me and I do the same. In the moonlight, I can see all of his features, including those intense teal eyes. He runs his fingertips up the back of my shirt and leisurely caresses me. "I have a good life, Giselle. I love what I do. It fulfills me. And I get to spend a lot of time outdoors doing all the things I love: biking, skiing, fishing, rock-climbing…the list goes on and on." His voice is full of passion.
"I'm happy for you." And I mean it. Dean deserves the best life. Sure, I can’t imagine ever feeling any level of security if I only had a steady income half the year, but it seems to work for Dean.
"What about you? I know you work crazy hours constantly. What makes you happy? What fills your tank?"
Sadly, he already knows the answer. "Work. Being successful. Making partner. That's what fills me up." I look back up at the sky so I can avoid his gaze. I hate to see the sympathy that's probably there—just like the way my friend, Karen, looks at me when she tells me I need to start living my life for something more than work.
"Giselle." He props himself up on his elbow and looks me in the eye again. "Isn't there anything else? Don't you feel like you need another outlet? Are there…people in your life who…"
"No." I stop him before he can finish the sentence. I know what he's asking and I'm a bit surprised. We've never talked about this before. "No, this last year I didn't see anyone else. I didn't even want to date." I let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "That's okay with me. There wasn’t any time for it when I had to prove myself so I could make partner."
He studies my face and the heat of it makes me self-conscious all of a sudden. "If all that work makes you happy, then I'm not going to judge you. Life is too short to not be happy. Did I tell you about my trip?"
Relief that he's changed the subject washes over me. I don't think he's judging me, yet still I feel like I have to defend my choices. Donovan gets on my back all the time, telling me I need to work less and have a life outside of the firm. At least Garrett, my other brother, understands, but he somehow finds a way to carve out enough time for his new wife, Camille. Maybe I need to figure out how to balance my life or add an extra hour to my day. "No, tell me all about it."
"Switzerland is the most beautiful place I've ever seen and the mountains stretch out for miles. I felt like a little kid in a candy store on my first run down the mountain." He pulls me into his warm arms for a kiss.
“It sounds amazing.”
He nods. “Yeah. One morning after a big storm, we were out skiing, making our own tracks. It was an adrenaline rush like no other. I was gaining speed and carving a short radius turn when out of nowhere, I lost my balance. I wanted to shrink off some speed, but it was too steep.” He rubs his eyebrow and it looks like the memory pains him. “I ended up wiping out, missing a tree by less than a foot.”
My hand flies to my chest. “Oh my God. You didn’t tell me that.”
He rests his hand on mine. “I wasn’t hurt. Just really sore. But what that moment made me realize is that life is fragile. I could’ve run into the tree or been severely injured. But I made it out alive. And now I don’t want to take anything for granted.”
My hands get clammy and my throat is tight at the thought of Dean dying on a mountain in Switzerland. I hug him close and breathe him in. “I’m so glad you’re all right.” The words feel insubstantial. I’m beyond grateful that he wasn’t hurt or worse. It makes me realize that nothing is promised. Not even our week every summer.
"You know what I was thinking when I was surrounded by all that beauty in Switzerland?"
"What?"
"That I wish you were there with me to share the experience." This time, when his mouth finds mine it's not gentle, but all-consuming and possessive.
Ten
Dean
I couldn't help myself. It’s so hard to get her to let me in. She barely ever talks about her life back in New York City with me. I only get little glimpses. But tonight, she did. She shared. What I’ve realized about Giselle over three years is that the woman is like a seven-layer rum cake. You get to enjoy her layer by layer—each one is sweeter and more intoxicating than the one above it. But you can’t rush her. It has to be on her time. I can be patient.
At first, I wasn’t sure if it’d be worth it to try and get her to open up. She was so quiet and reserved at first. But when she does show you a part of herself, even a little bit, it’s like seeing the sun for the first time and you just can’t stop looking. Her drive and work ethic are second to none, and I admire her for it, but there’s so much more to her. I love her quirks—like when I found her in the kitchen this morning, humming along and dancing to a song when she was making me breakfast. She’s kind, honest, generous, and open to trying new things with me. And she cares intensely for those closest to her. She’s passionate when she shares stories of her family. And I know she cares about me, but I want more. I want to be a part of her inner circle. I just have to keep pushing her to overcome her natural reservations about showing me her heart. I would never do anything to hurt her. Ever.
What she shared made me both happy and sad. Happy because it's obvious there's no one else. I have the inside track on a future with Giselle. But, it's also sad because it made me think she must be lonely. It’s apparent in how hard she works to eke every bit of life she can from one week a year. I'm determined to make it perfect for her.
Since she opened up to me, I wanted to share my ski accident with her. I could see in her eyes that she was affected by the thought of losing me. If nothing else, I hope it was a reminder to her—like it was for me—that we need to live life to the fullest.
I bring her inside and press my lips to hers. The kiss is intense and passionate, but I can tell she’s a little too buzzed and tired for much more.
She's half asleep in my arms as we lie in bed. I'm going to ask. And I'm not entirely sure she knows what she'll be agreeing to, but I have to take the chance. “There's an amusement park here. It's not Disney, but it still has roller coasters and overpriced food and a water park. We don't have kids to monitor and we can eat ice cream and soft pretzels. We can stay all night and close down the park. And they have fireworks, too, I looked it up since it’s so close to the Fourth of July.” And I want to experience all that with her.
Her eyes are closed and it sounds like she says “sure,” but it could’ve been a yawn.
Good enough for me.
When the sun comes up, I ease out of bed without waking her. It feels good to be up this early—like I normally am. I’ve been in full vacation mode this week and have been sleeping in later than usual. I’ve been going with the flow.
Giselle’s features are soft and relaxed as she lies there in dreamland. The sheet is only covering her from the waist down. She's naked and her skin is glowing with a tan she's earned from the last few days in the sun. My blood stirs, but instead of waking her, I'm going to make sure we have a hearty breakfast this morning.
In the kitchen, I start the coffee pot and open the refrigerator to get the ingredients for eggs Benedict. I remember how much she loved them when we were in Beverly Hills. The moan she made when she
put the first bite in her mouth—like she was actually having an orgasm—is something I'll never forget. I'll make them for her now. How hard can it be?
I picked up a packet for hollandaise sauce when we were getting groceries and she had smiled. Never once did she question my plans for it. Now she'll know.
The shower is running upstairs. By the time it shuts off, I’ve done my best to replicate her dream breakfast, right down to the potatoes I grated for hash browns that I cooked in the skillet.
Even though I made coffee for me, I meet her in the bathroom with a mug of hot chocolate. That’s what she ordered at the restaurant in Beverly Hills.
"No coffee?" she asks, eyeing me with a furrowed brow. The bathroom smells so damn good, like lavender and her.
I shake my head and it’s nearly impossible to keep the ear to ear grin off my face. "Throw on a robe and check it out." Even though it pains me not to grab her and ravage her naked body, I don't want the eggs to get cold. There will be time for that later.
She wanders into the kitchen in her bathrobe minutes later, tentatively, like she's not sure what to expect.
"Come have breakfast with me." I take her hand and lead her out onto the deck overlooking the lake. I pull her chair out for her.
She takes one look at her plate and squeals in delight, making it all worth it. "You made this?" She glances back toward the kitchen like she's doubting me. She can see the mess I left on the counter and the pans strewn about. She wraps her arms around me and I lift her up so her feet come off the ground. “The absolute best," she whispers into my ear.
Goose bumps erupt over my skin. "Thank you. I hope you like it."
She plants a long deep kiss on my lips and that's thanks enough.
We take our seats and I watch her as she cuts into the egg and takes her first bite. She closes her eyes and moans like she did back in Beverly Hills. I give myself an internal high-five. "This is so good."
I feel like I can finally breathe. I was so worried that I messed something up. Now, I take my first bite. "It is good. This was my first time making it."
"The cocoa and eggs Benedict, exactly like our trip in Beverly Hills." Her eyes are sparkling like she still can't get over the fact that I remember everything.
I shrug. "I told you I don't forget things when it comes to you. But the real question is, do you remember agreeing to something last night?"
She takes a long sip of her cocoa and sets the mug in front of her. She plays with the handle, running her finger along the smooth surface. "I faintly remember something about an amusement park."
"I'm glad you remembered. We're going to eat all the junk food, ride all the roller coasters, and play in the waterpark."
She bounces up out of her chair and sits in my lap. Her whole face is glowing. "I can't wait." She looks out over the lake and doesn't say anything, her face becoming serious. "I can't believe it's almost half over."
I shake my head. I can't even stand the thought. My eggs Benedict turns in my stomach. "Don't think like that. It doesn't have to be." I gently kiss her temple, aware I've said too much.
Eleven
Giselle
I bite at the corner of my lip and shake my head. I have no idea what he's thinking. My heart begins to race at his words, and I struggle for what to say in response. "I can only really take off one week a year right now. I use my other days throughout the year for other commitments and those are mostly long weekends." I’m trying to make him understand this is it, the most he can expect from me. There's no second week of vacation that I can give him, even though it would be wonderful to see him more often.
He has that look on his face he gets sometimes. It's impossible for me to read. His lips are pressed tightly together and he's rubbing at his eyelid. I don't think he's upset with me, but beyond that, I can't tell what's going through his mind. "I want us to have fun today. Let’s focus on the here and now. We can pack our bags and our swimsuits and get going."
It’s like I can drop the boulder he sat on my shoulders. I’m not sure if he’ll bring it up again, but I hope not.
We load into my car and drive to the amusement park. During the ride, we hold hands and I'm relieved that he doesn't seem disappointed or upset about my admission. Once we arrive, we park the car and make our way inside.
My pulse ramps up as we stand in line for the first roller coaster. "I haven't been on one of these since I was a kid."
He pulls me in close and whispers in my ear, "Are you nervous?"
My heart is banging against my rib cage; I wonder if he can feel it as he hugs me. "Not scared or nervous. Completely excited is more accurate."
"I'm with you the whole time. Squeeze my hand if you have to."
I look up into those teal eyes and feel nothing but comfort and safety. "Thank you."
We spend the entire day having pure, unadulterated fun. We eat burgers and fries, cotton candy, and fried dough. We nap in shaded loungers at the waterpark and then play hard for the rest of the day. We ride every ride and close down the park. I love being playful with Dean. My getaways with him are the only time in my life when I get to let go like this. My heart warms and feels so full.
Before the fireworks start, we find a spot on the grass and have a seat on our towels. There are people all around, crammed together on the hill. Kids on parents’ shoulders, families, couples. It seems like the entire park gathered here for the light show.
"Come here," Dean says, pointing to the spot between his legs.
I grin as I scoot over and sit with my back to his chest. Dean's arms come around my waist and I lean my head back against his shoulder as the fireworks began.
"They’re beautiful," I say, taking in the magical moment. They’re loud and bright and come one after another. Some shoot straight into the sky and rain down in silver sparkles, while others jet up and fall down in colorful, twinkling spirals. Everyone in the crowd is oohing and ahhing.
"Did you have fun today?" he asks next to my ear. The feel of his breath on my skin gives me a little shiver.
"Absolutely. Especially on the roller coasters. Even though you laughed at me when I screamed and nearly cut off the circulation in your hand."
He chuckles and the sound vibrates through his chest. "Good. I had the best day with you."
“I did, too.” Dean and I always have fun together, tempered with the perfect amount of romance. A pulse begins low in my belly and I feel incredibly lusty. I’m seriously in like with Dean. I can't get enough of him. Only, when I think about the rest of the year, I know this is all we have. He would never fit into my world and I can't imagine being happy in his. Dean wouldn't enjoy stuffy corporate dinners or the long hours I work. And I am not an outdoorsy person like he is. We're just too different, and I know we’re only meant to have moments and make them enough.
We enjoy the rest of the fireworks and after the grand finale, we make our way back to the lake house.
"Swim under the stars?” I ask as we pull into the driveway.
He shakes his head like he’s surprised I'm rallying. "You still have energy for that?"
We both know I was half asleep in his arms during the fireworks, but I need more of him. "Of course. I'll always have energy to spend with you." I urge him to follow me.
We strip down on the dock, under the stars. Dean’s body, all tan and corded muscle, is something I’ll never tire of looking at. It’s perfect. He jumps in first, water splashing all over me before I follow him in.
"Skinny-dipping with you is my favorite," I joke as I swim into his arms and kiss him slow and deep, showing him how turned on I’ve been all evening.
"Followed by sex?" He raises his eyebrows and kisses my neck right where I like it. My body aches for him to touch me, and to be inside me.
I tilt my head to grant him better access and let out a heavy breath. “Always.”
He slides his tongue in my mouth. He tastes sweet, like the cinnamon taffy we brought home from the amusement park.
The water
is shallow enough that he can stand. I wrap my legs around his waist.
His big hands glide down my ribs to my hips, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
I don’t think I can wait another second. My stomach tightens seconds before I sink down onto his length. We both moan and it's the only sound besides our bodies splashing the water as they come together.
The calm water and tranquil surroundings ramp up the romance. I’m always hot for Dean. I wonder if I’ll ever tire of him. Probably not—especially when we only see each other seven days a year.
His mouth moves from my neck to my collarbone and down my chest, raining kisses on my skin. He drops his mouth to my nipple and sucks it hard. The combination of the cool water and his warm mouth has me panting.
I can't help but dig my nails into his shoulders as I bounce up and down his length.
"Have you ever had sex with anyone in Lake George before?" Dean asks, his voice hoarse, like he's barely holding on.
"No." Thinking back, I haven't had sex in a lake ever. "Not this one or any other body of water."
A low growl escapes his lips. "Good. I like giving you your firsts."
There’s no point in asking him if he has, because in this moment, I truly don't care.
I can tell he's getting close when his fingertips bite into my ass as he thrusts inside me. I'm close, too. Arching my back, I wind my hands around his neck, holding on for dear life.
He grinds his teeth before he calls out my name and explodes inside me. I'm right behind him, pulsing around him as my body spasms with its own orgasm.
I shove my face in his neck and he squeezes me close. My body is spent and I feel like I just got off one of the roller coasters. "Take me inside and put me to bed."
"Your wish is my command," Dean says as he carries me out of the water and back into the house.
