The near silence surrounding me was like a natural tranquilizer. Only the splash of the paddle with each stroke broke the quiet. I’d already gone for a swim, and tomorrow I’d tackle a morning climb.
Then at the end of the summer, I’d do the swim, bike, and run, plus a rock climb. But that wasn’t what made the triathlon so badass.
After you scaled the rock wall, you turned around and did the first three legs in reverse.
I’d be ready. I concentrated on finishing my workout, heading to the shore, focusing on each stroke of the paddle.
One motion at a time.
One day at a time.
Splash.
I raised my eyes to the edge of the lake and blinked. What the hell?
A woman with long brown hair looped into a ponytail and a badass skater-girl outfit waved to me—big, broad, wildly happy waves. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “What do you think? Can I wear this kayaking?”
Striking a playful pose, she gestured to her outfit. She was a sight all right, in her tattered jean shorts, crazy socks, and wifebeater tee, which displayed the ink on her arms. She didn’t look outdoorsy at all, but who cared? We’d make it work, if she was willing. I cracked up as a surge of happiness bounded through me. The last thing in the world I’d expected to see this morning was Elle. But the furious beating in my heart as I dragged the kayak ashore had little to do with the exertion and more to do with the utter delight of my unexpected Saturday morning visitor.
I tapped the side of the fiberglass hull. “You can wear anything kayaking. But does this mean you decided to take me up on my offer to hit the lake?”
Her eyes widened, and she drew a deep breath, like she was girding herself.
“Yes.”
I punched the air.
“But just for a few minutes. To try it. Is that okay?”
“It’s more than okay.”
She held up a hand. “Wait. Did I ruin your workout? I can wait till you’re done.”
I laughed, and my heart soared. “You are not a Kayla, I assure you.”
Her brow furrowed. “Who’s Kayla?”
“My ex. We went out last year. Before I started at the center. I was training to redo the Badass Triathlon, and she didn’t like that I spent so much time working out.”
“Does she hate men with great bodies?” Elle deadpanned.
I wanted to thump my chest. To square my shoulders and strut like a peacock. But I knew Elle’s issues weren’t about attraction. She’d made that clear last weekend. Still, what man wouldn’t enjoy the great body compliment? After all those years of pouring crap into my body, I now chose to do the opposite. To treat my body like a temple.
I was glad she liked it.
“Evidently,” I said. “She tried to get me to stop spending so much time training. Stupidly, I listened to her and abandoned my quest to compete.”
“That sucks. I know how much you want to do that event. You’ve been training all summer.” She gestured to the water, barking like a drill sergeant. “Get back in there. Now. Stat.”
I saluted her. “And I’ll give you one hundred push-ups too.”
She rubbed her palms together. “Make it five hundred, soldier. Keep working out.”
“Glad you like the results.”
“I do, and I will be cheering you on when you finish, because you will.”
She was so different from Kayla. “Want to hear the most ridiculous part? We split a few weeks later, after I decided not to do the race.”
“Because of that?”
I scratched my jaw, reflecting back on those times. “Because of that, no. Because of everything else, yes. We were wrong for each other. We didn’t support each other. Didn’t get each other.” Then I narrowed my eyes. “But don’t distract me from your first kayak lesson, missy. All this talk of appreciating my body will not make me forget.”
“A girl can try.”
She definitely seemed to be up for trying, and that thrilled me.
I pointed to the water. “Try that.”
Her expression turned serious as she nodded. Ready.
She spent maybe fifteen minutes in the water. Most of it near the shore. I showed her the basics, helped her with her life jacket, and then cheered as she paddled a short distance away.
When she got out of the kayak, the grin she wore was magnetic.
I pulled her in for a hug. “You did it. And I bet you love it now. I’ll be running into you every morning.”
She laughed against my chest. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
That seemed to be my mantra with Elle.
I met her gaze. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
Her eyes darkened, and she nibbled on the corner of her lips. Then she whispered the sweetest words. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making me feel safe.”
In that moment, I understood why she’d been so wary of so many things.
Safety wasn’t something another person could entirely promise you. But when I could, I would give it to her. “I’m glad you tried it.”
“Me too,” she said, her voice a little breathy, her body still close to mine. My thoughts spiraled away, and I pictured yanking her against me, kissing her hard and ruthlessly, and taking her home with me.
But I knew that wouldn’t happen.
Except there was something in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
Another deep breath, then she let go.
“Want to grab some breakfast?” she asked, as if rerouting her thoughts entirely.
And I’d have to do the same, because maybe my wishful thinking was leading me to misread her expression.
“Breakfast and I have been known to get along.”
She grinned. “Great. I thought I would take you out to say thank you for getting me out of the house a couple of evenings this week. I did some Yelp research, and there’s an organic café on the way back to town that serves steel-cut oats and handpicked blueberries. I’m guessing that’s the only thing you put in your body in the morning?”
She knew me too well.
“Don’t know where you got the idea that I was some kind of health nut,” I said, with a who, me to my tone.
“It’s a mystery to me too.”
The real mystery, though, was why she was here. This wasn’t like her. Not the Elle who had defined lines, rules, and boxes.
But maybe there was another side of her she was starting to embrace.
An Elle who’d tried a few new things this week.
I could only hope she’d try more.
16
Elle
We ordered breakfast at Ampersand & Pie, an off-the-beaten-path café with chalkboard menus and wooden chairs painted sky blue. The sun warmed my shoulders on the outside patio, and Ella Fitzgerald crooned softly from the speakers inside the café, filtering out here.
Music. The balm to my soul.
But it wasn’t music that had driven me to get out of bed this morning. To show up.
It was Colin, and I was trying to figure out what to do next with all these feelings I had for him.
Like how much I’d wanted him to kiss me on the shore.
How much I wanted to kiss him now.
I had to get my mind off kissing or I’d be a see-through woman, like I was to Janine and Alex the other night.
“So, my mom is with Alex today,” I said, talking to keep myself busy.
“Oh yeah?”
“I think they’re going bowling.”
“This early?”
“Not yet. After lunch, I’m guessing. She’s probably there now. But he wasn’t even up when I left. Not sure if you know this about teenage boys, but they have a thing for sleeping in,” I said, tapping my watch as I prattled on. “He’ll be sound asleep till at least nine.”
He gestured for me to come closer, then dropped his voice to a whisper. “I do know that about teenage boys, having once, you know, been one,” he said, then shifted gears to the mob voice
he’d used the other night. “But it’s time to fess up.”
“What am I confessing to? Mob crimes? Did you get the dirt on Elle ‘Moneybags’ Mariano?” I asked, keeping up the playful mood.
He laughed. “I’ve got all the deets on you.” He reached for his coffee, took a drink, and turned more serious. “But I was hoping you’d fess up about why you showed up this morning. It was quite a surprise to see you at the shore.”
I tensed. I couldn’t dance around anything today. “Not a bad one, I hope?”
“Never a bad one. But tell me. What made you want to go kayaking this morning?”
I reached for a napkin on the table, needing a distraction. Was I going to say this?
I was still trying to figure it out. “I’m not entirely sure.”
He shot me a lopsided grin. “Fair enough. I’m glad you did though. But what made you nervous in the first place? You can swim, right? Wait. Don’t tell me. Elle Mariano can’t swim and my next project is to teach her how to dog-paddle?”
I tossed a napkin at him, pinging his shoulder with it. “I can totally swim!”
I just didn’t like to anymore. I didn’t like to take chances.
“So, what is it?” he asked, tilting his head, waiting. Simply waiting. Giving me time to answer, as well as to study his handsome face. Dark scruff lined his jaw—that sexy, allover stubble. How would it feel against me?
As good as it felt when he looked at me? His brown eyes were the shade of espresso, and they focused intently on me. I’d made a career out of listening to others, but I suspected I could learn from him, because this man made me feel as if he was hearing every single word.
This felt less like fun and more like talking. But it turned out that’s what I wanted. I wanted the talking. I wanted the connection. Not just about movies and the mob, but other things—the things that had brought us together in the first place. Talking about life. Was this why I’d felt the urge to find him this morning? To talk more, as we had on Thursday? About deeper topics?
To seek a connection?
Maybe it was, so I womaned up. “Sam took me on his bike once, and we crashed. Spun out on the sidewalk. It was horrifying. I was banged up all over, bruises and cuts, and all I could think was there but for the grace of God,” I said, recounting. “I’ve been cautious since then.”
“Wow. That’s terrible.” He reached for his mug and lifted it. “And understandable why you felt that way. Why you’d be cautious.” He sipped his coffee, taking his time, like he was considering what to say next. “But you liked zip-lining?”
I smiled. “I did.”
“So what about roller derby?” he asked in a gentle voice.
“Ah,” I said, holding up my index finger to make my point. “The seeming contradiction. But see, I’ve always skated, and it’s indoors. And I like to be active, so skating seems like a more reasonable risk. But that’s also why I’m a blocker, not a jammer.”
He raised an eyebrow in question.
“Blocker is defense. Not as many injuries. It’s the safer position.”
“I see.” He nodded slowly. “But this morning, you came out here, ready to take a chance. Fair to say?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? And would I take the chance?
I stared at him, licked my lips, and thought about risks. Rewards. Chances. “I think I just wanted to surprise you. That was all I was thinking.”
“Lucky me. But I also think maybe you do like to take chances, but in a safer way.”
I noodled on that for a few seconds. Maybe more. “You might be right. I did feel safe on the zip line. And I felt safe kayaking with you.”
“Good. That’s key. You should always feel safe. We can go again if you want.”
I flashed back on my fifteen minutes in the water, and how he’d walked me through all the basics. He hadn’t pushed like Sam. He hadn’t insisted. He’d respected my boundaries, while offering a hand. “I would go again with you. But no car racing, bungee jumping, or rock climbing.”
He laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Bungee jumping is fun. I’ve done it several times, but I don’t go regularly. Rock climbing though? You can’t keep me away from that sport.”
“Isn’t rock climbing how you broke your tibia? How did that happen?” I asked, since he’d mentioned it in passing.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Ah, remember what I said the other night about bad choices?”
“Sure.”
“That was another one of mine. When I tried to do the triathlon the first time, I had the bright idea to do it hungover.”
“Ouch.”
“Ouch indeed. I fell, landed wrong, broke my leg, passed out, and wound up in the hospital. Fun times.”
My heart squeezed for him. “Was that what did it? What made you stop using?”
He nodded fiercely. “Yep. Nothing like your family showing up and learning you’ve been doing drugs since you were thirteen.”
Instinctively, I reached for his hand, clasping it tightly. “That was brave.”
He cocked a brow as he squeezed back. “Yeah?”
“So brave. Change is the most courageous thing of all.”
“I’m glad you tried kayaking, then.”
But I needed to do more than try a sport that wasn’t scary at all.
I needed to say the hard things.
The reason.
It had been sequestered inside me for the last two years. But I wanted to say it. He’d been so earnest. So open.
I’d never told him all the details. And now, as we were opening up to each other, the time seemed right. I felt ready. I let go of his hand. “He died in my arms,” I said, giving voice to the worst night of my life, saying the hardest thing.
His jaw dropped. “Oh, Elle. I’m so sorry. I knew he OD’d, but didn’t know the details.”
I steeled myself to tell the story. “We weren’t together. We hadn’t been for a long time. But he showed up at my house, smashed, sick as a dog, white as a sheet. He stumbled inside, and I started to call my mom, since she’s a nurse. But then he just started convulsing.” The cruel memory flickered in my mind—Sam’s eyes bugging out, his breath coming in spurts, his chest seizing up. I’d called 911 immediately, then crouched on the floor, holding him, desperately waiting for the ambulance to show up. It was too late. The medics pronounced him dead on the scene. “Alex saw the whole thing.”
Pain sliced through me, and I winced at the memories.
Colin stood, moved around the table, and wrapped an arm around me. “That’s such a terrible thing for him to see. I didn’t watch my dad die, but I saw his body a few hours later when my mom found him. I’ll never forget the image. It must have been so hard for Alex.”
“It was. He didn’t talk for a year. Only the basics. He couldn’t speak. It was awful,” I said. My voice broke, and a tear slipped down my cheek. “In some ways, I thought for a while there that I was going to lose Alex too. He was so far gone, I was afraid I’d never be able to reach him.”
Colin swiped away the tears that had begun to fall faster.
“Colin,” I said, sniffling, my voice thin as air. “That’s why I’m scared.”
“I get it. I do. I completely get it.” His tone was a caress. “I was so scared when I lost my dad. I turned to the wrong things for a long time, and if it hadn’t been for my brothers, my sister, and my grandparents, I don’t know if I would have found my way out either. I’m glad Alex has at least come out the other side. I know with you as his mom, he’s going to make it through just fine.”
He smiled gently at me, and my heart thundered. With possibility.
I looked down, reached for his hand, threaded my fingers through his, and squeezed lightly. His touch was like turning on a light switch in a basement. It flickered briefly then started to light up the dark inside me.
“Maybe some days you’ll want to kayak and some days you won’t, and whatever you want is fine by me,” he said. It made me hopeful.
Because . . .
“I feel safe with you,” I said softly, circling back to what he’d said.
“Good.” One word, that was all that was needed.
And now I wanted a little more. I could do this. I could manage a sliver of desire without my life crashing.
He was Colin. He was in recovery.
“I think I’m ready for something,” I added.
“Tell me what you’re ready for,” he said, his voice rough with longing.
“To kiss you.”
His grin was dirty and vulnerable at the same time. And it hooked into me.
It made my chest tingle and my skin sizzle.
And I waited, on the cusp of chances.
Nervous, but not at all.
Because once I closed my eyes and he dipped his mouth to mine, everything felt right.
Correction: everything felt electric.
Because holy hell.
Colin Sloan could kiss.
His lips were soft and confident. His touch was tender and possessive. His lips brushed mine in an exploration, and my head went hazy. My body turned hot.
And I lost all interest in breakfast.
In worries.
In talking.
I wanted to kiss and kiss and kiss.
I kissed him back, letting him know how much I liked it.
Only it felt like need.
I needed his lips, needed his tongue. I deepened the kiss, my tongue tangling with his, our lips exploring. He responded instantly to my pace, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb stroking my jaw, as his lips claimed mine.
He kissed me like he’d been holding on to this kiss for ages.
Like he’d been holding back forever.
Like I was the only one he wanted to kiss.
It was that way for me—he was the one I wanted.
And I didn’t want to end it.
I wanted more.
But the creak of the screen door broke the trance.
We pulled apart, breathless. I was sure my desire was written in my eyes.
The waitress didn’t blink. She simply smiled and set down our food.
And then I took the biggest chance of all. “Actually, can we get that to go?”
My Sinful Longing (Sinful Men Book 3) Page 7