by Claire Woods
“Thank you, Sir. I understand.”
Higley’s lips thin as she reluctantly hands my exam to him to be locked back up.
Bingo.
She had it out for me.
I knew it.
Rising, I collect my things, place my suit coat over one arm, rounding the table to shake each hand one at a time; like a tycoon in a boardroom who just struck a major deal.
“Good job, son.”
“Thanks, Coach,” I reply as he slaps my back.
Feeling like a vindicated man, my feet practically skip back to my SUV.
“Gabe.”
Fuck.
“Jackie.”
Spinning around I face my ex.
“Where have you been?”
Arms crossed over my chest—I don’t answer.
“I miss you.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t miss you, sweetheart. I told you weeks ago we were done. How did you know I’d be here?”
“My sorority sister is the Chancellor’s PA.”
“Of course, she is,” I reply remembering how she glanced at me.
“I need to leave. I have a job to get to.”
“Please… give me five minutes. Can we talk?”
My jaw ticks. “We don’t work well, sweetheart. I don’t party like you. I’m on track to be someone—someone big.”
“I know.”
“So that’s what this is about? You wanted to attach yourself to a guy about to go pro and ride the wave with him?”
She averts her gaze, shifting her weight on her strappy sandals. “No. of course not. It’s just…I’ve tried to get over you. But I can’t. No one else can compare to you—in or out of bed.”
“I haven’t been with anyone since we broke up. Clearly you have. But I’d be done regardless. I’m sorry. I need to go.”
Her face falls, realizing she said too much.
“Shit.” A dozen reports race towards us obviously tipped off.
“GABE! Are you a part of the official investigation?”
“Do you regret no entering the draft last spring?”
“Gabe! Over Here! Will you be playing next season?”
Without a backward glance, I open my door, fire up the engine and roll down my windows grinning as Timberlake comes on. I sing “Cry me a River,” along with him.
She flips me the bird; her face a fiery sunburn as I peel out leaving both her and the stunned reporters behind.
Maybe that wasn’t the best idea. Most of why I dumped her is because of her psychotic mood swings. I’m hoping six more weeks apart might be enough time and space for her to move on. But somehow, I don’t think moving to the other side of the world would be far enough for her to be able to let this go.
My phone rings through the Bluetooth just as I hit the highway.
“Banger! What’s up? I crushed it. I nailed the test, man. I owe you a beer.”
“Congrats. That’s friggin awesome. But I was calling to see if you’re free on Wednesday morning? I want to put you in the line-up, and we can do a shout out to your mystery girl.”
My heart thumps in my chest. Christ, why in the hell did I waste time with Jackie? No girl has made my heart pound, or my palms sweat like this.
“Do it. Text me the address to the station and I’ll be there.”
“Good. I come on at nine so show up at eight.”
“Great, see you then.”
Two days.
In two more days, she’ll hear me. I hope she answers.
Jackie
I’VE NEVER FELT SO HUMILIATED as I did when Gabe left me standing on the hot pavement with news trucks and camera crews catching him diss me on tape. When it was clear they couldn’t catch up with him—they turned to me.
I’m about to give them the story they are looking for. I hide my smug eyes under my new Tory Burch sunglasses. Gabe was so busy singing like an idiot—something that always got on my nerves that he never noticed the car at the far corner of the lot that pulling out behind him after I gave a head nod.
I’ll find him. Tip-off TMZ and cash in. But first, I’m going to tell the press… our story.
At least the way I saw it.
If I can’t have him—no one will want him after I drag his name through the dirt. I came to UVA looking for a ring. I’m not going to work at some dead-end desk job. When I met Gabe, I knew I found my trophy husband. He’s a champ—on and off the field, a voracious lover with the body of an Olympic athlete, and he’s smart.
Too smart.
I knew I was losing him and tried everything to keep him, but it only made him let go more.
Maybe if my plan works, I could be the next bachelorette. In fact, I’m banking on it. With my best quivering lip and crestfallen face, I turn to the cameras.
“I’m Jackie. Jackie Delaware, Gabe’s ex-girlfriend. I’ve been trying to get him to stop, begged him for months to stop doping. But he wouldn’t listen. His grades started slipping… and he did it. Cheated on everything. I tried to help him, but he pushed me away…”
Callie
THE PAST FEW WEEKS FLEW by in a blur. I helped pack up Dad and Charlie then started working fifteen-hour days. By the time I crawled into bed each night completely drained, it was time to get back up again.
Tonight’s my first class: Organic Chemistry.
I’m doomed. But I don’t have a choice and no one to complain to. My mom didn’t ask for cancer, and we’re barely paying off the insurance co-pays.
I can’t let my family down.
It’s the height of the season. The money that we make now carries us for the rest of the year.
Clipping on my fanny pack that contains my wallet, keys, and cell, I peddle from my morning shift at the café over to the marina until it’s time for class. With the amount of traffic buzzing by, it’ll be faster than driving and keeps my legs toned.
The marina’s been in the family for three generations. When it’s not busy, I can at least study in the back office.
“Hey Callie, looking good.”
“Hey, Wes. What’s up?” Smiling at him, I hop off my bike, walking down the dock.
“Well… I’d be embarrassed to tell you what. If you keep coming by wearing those tight white shorts.”
“Stop. You’re my employee.”
“So? You are the hottest chick in town.”
“Stop flirting and get back to work. Before I have to fire you.”
“Shit. That'd be hot. Would you be all strict and bossy? Cause I could go for that.” He swaggers towards me, hose in hand.
“Don’t you dare!”
He winks pressing down on the nozzle. “Wes!” I shriek stumbling back as a spray of cold water hits my chest. “You’re going to pay for that.”
His eyes go wide, looking behind me, but I’m not falling for that trick.
Instead, I fall back into a strong pair of tanned arms that wrap around my wet waist. They tighten, and I’m struck at how tan the man’s hands are against my white shirt. But then the smell of Polo cologne kicks me in the gut.
Elliot.
Jerking out of his hold, I hide my shaking hands by twisting the ends of my shirt with them.
“Callie,” he breathes looking at me like I’m not a ghost, but an angel.
“Elliot? This is a surprise. Does my small town bore you already? Decided to go out slumming? Well, I’m not interested.”
“Actually, I wanted to rent a fishing boat.”
Face flaming, my hand gestures over to Wes. “Fine. He can help you with that.”
Spinning on the heel of my converse sneakers, I walk down the rest of the dock with as much dignity one can manage after a surprise run-in with a former flame while wearing a soaked shirt while smelling like fried hash browns and coffee.
Grabbing the clipboard hanging off a nail tacked on the last post on the pier, my eyes scan the tide charts, and latest Coast Guard report. My back is towards him, but I feel his eyes on me.
Refusing to turn around, I hang the clipboard
back up and enter the small office where we also sell bait and tackle.
My father’s cap hangs on the wall. Sitting in his old squeaky chair gives me comfort. The familiar smell in here helps me feel secure: diesel fumes and dead fish.
Yeah, Elliot Langston and I have nothing in common. Our worlds would have never mixed, but hormones didn’t understand that. Neither did my teenage heart.
Sighing, the corner of my eyes flit to the windows. Wes upsold him. Led him straight over to the most expensive boat we have for rent. My father paid three hundred thousand for it. My Mom didn’t speak to him for weeks and me—I had the time of my life taking it out to sea.
She moves fast, can handle any wave short of a hurricane, and is sexy as fuck.
Sheena.
That’s the name painted in scripted neon purple on the stern. I snort, remembering that’s another thing that pissed Mom off. He named the boat after an eighties pop star who wore stretch leotards and headbands and not his wife.
My eyes flit from the boat to Elliot.
He’s more built than he was two years ago…taller, too. He’s hot. Hot like a man with money is; all polished boat loafers, khaki shorts, and crisp polo shirt. He carries himself regally like he was born into something greater than the rest of us.
I didn’t know what it was then. But I see it clearly now: he’s American royalty, born into one of the oldest families in the South. It screams from every pore in his body.
They both suddenly turn to look at the office, Wes gestures for Elliott to wait.
“What happened?” Wes walks in somberly, clearly something was said, “was I too harsh?”
“It’s not that—although you were a bit of a bitch.”
“Yeah, I was.”
“He wants it. For the whole season.”
I whistle. “Doesn’t his family already own a yacht?”
“We do. But my brother’s sailing it up to Maine.”
My eyes snap to the door where Elliot silently stands.
“Fine. Let me crunch some numbers. In the meantime, feel free to take it out for the day. I’ll need a credit card and ID in case you sink the damn thing.”
“I have a Captain’s license. From the Naval Academy in Annapolis.”
“Of course, you do,” I smile sweetly taking his card and licenses, photocopying them.
His honey brown eyes are puzzled as he stares down at me utterly clueless as to why I can’t stand him. He could’ve at least tried to make my first time better.
“You’re all set. Here’s the keys. Keep the Coast Guard channel on the radio and call us if you have any issues. We close at six. She’s due back in port by five.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he smirks.
Our fingers brush as he takes the keys.
But I don’t feel sparks, see stars, or feel one tingle.
Thank God.
I keep busy for the rest of the day, helping Wes hose down boats that reek of dead fish and beer as they come back into the dock. The hardest part is doing it all with a smile. Taking a break, my fingers dig into the bottom of my fanny pack for loose change, and I plunk them into the beverage dispenser.
“Why don’t you just get the key and help yourself? You own the machine.”
I shrug. “I’m too thirsty and tired to take another step. You want one?”
“I’ll take a Red Bull.”
My finger presses the selection; two Red Bulls drop out the bottom.
“I have class later. I’ll need the boost of caffeine.” Popping the top, I tip my bottle to his. “To making our season already.”
“What?”
“I crunched some numbers… if I charge seventy-five-grand for him to rent it out, I can pay off a solid portion of the loan and use the extra cash to help my Dad pay the medical bills.”
He sips his Red Bull almost choking on it. “You think Elliot will pay that?”
“Well… I’m willing to waive the slip fee and give him a discount on the diesel.”
“Maybe if you give him another chance… he’ll pay more.”
“I’m not whoring myself out, Wes.”
“Noted. But he did ask if you were seeing anyone.”
My eyebrow rises, “What did you say?”
“I said that I didn’t know, but that you shot me down quickly.”
“Well, that’s because you dated Sophie.”
“In junior high school. That hardly counts.”
“It does. I won’t break girl code.”
“Fine. I’m hitting up The Beachcomber later anyway. The summer girls are all looking good so far.”
The sound of a powerful engine humming through the water has me looking past him. Elliott stands behind the wheel up on the bridge. The breeze ruffles his hair, and before he catches me staring, I mumble something walking inside where I can hide behind paperwork.
Five minutes later the door swings open. I feel his eyes on me.
Continuing to ignore him, I pull up the forecast on my iPad.
“Can we talk?”
“Sure, I’ve printed the lease paperwork for Sheena. Does seventy-five thousand sound reasonable for four months? September is still warm, and we won’t dry dock her until October.”
“I didn’t want to talk about the boat.”
“Oh? I can’t imagine there’s anything else to discuss?”
He comes in softly shutting the door. “I thought about you for months.”
“Really? I find that hard to believe when you left without even telling me you were going.”
“I had no choice. My grandfather had a heart attack. He didn’t make it, and the rest of the summer was over after that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. But you still could’ve called, texted—hell sent me a postcard.”
“I know. A million apologies wouldn’t suffice. But I did have feelings for you, Callie.”
Nodding my head, eyes lowered, my hand pushes the paperwork forward.
He ignores it.
“Let me take you to dinner.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
“Fine. I’ll be back.” He snaps the paperwork off the desk, skims the pages, signs his signature with a flourish dropping a check in front of me for the full amount. He stares at me hard with his jaw ticking, as if he wants to say more but instead he shakes his head and leaves.
The breath I didn’t even know I was holding exits in a whoosh. My hands shake as I pick up his check. He added twenty-five thousand to what I had asked for.
Bewildered, heart pounding, I feel sick. Does he know? About my family…about Mom?
I can’t cash this.
It feels wrong.
Not sure what to do, I unlock the small safe bolted to the floor placing the check inside.
“Callie? I’m punching out. My shift’s over.”
“Shit!” Grabbing my pack, my eyes flit to the clock on the wall.
I have five minutes to get to campus before my class starts at six.
“I’m never going to make it. I biked here.”
Wes forks over the keys to his prized refurbished Mustang. “I insist. Take it.”
“Thanks! I owe you a million,” my lips land on his cheek as I fly out the door sprinting down the dock.
***
My head was spinning for the first half hour, but I finally settled in and started taking notes with the borrowed pencil and paper I got from a friendly face in the class.
The sky outside bloomed with the pink and oranges hues of the sunset before turning to twilight where the stars came out to shine. Now, the horizon’s inky black with the clouds hiding half the moon.
With the keys to Wes’ car tightly in my hand, the soles of my shoes clack on the pavement. I stop looking both ways before crossing the road into the parking lot.
Shit.
The campus police busted me.
“No! Wait I can explain!” I shout running towards Wes’ car as the tow truck driver attache
s chains to the undercarriage.
The campus cop stands with his arms crossed not even glancing at me as I stop behind him.
He’s huge. I haven’t seen a guy this cut, tan, and filled out in my life.
“Excuse me? That’ s my car.”
“Then you are out of luck. You parked in one of the three handicapped spaces in the lot.”
“I-I can explain, please.”
He finally turns to face me.
“You!”
“Fanny?!”
We both shout at the same time.
He smirks, “The only way I’m letting you get out of this is if you tell me your name and give me a date.”
“I don’t date rent-a-cops. They’re fake.”
“Wanna see my badge?” He leans down, whispering against my hair.
“There’s been a mistake. Please stop,” I beg the tow driver as he finishes and moves toward the cab.
“Your name. I’m waiting.”
Jerking my head towards my hot nemesis, I dig in. I don’t know why. There’s just something about him that ticks me off and turns me on at the same time. It twists my emotions into a knot and fucks with my head.
“What’s yours?”
“Can’t you read the name tag?” His finger points to the cheap plastic tag pinned on his shirt that says, Parker. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him hear me say it.
“Say it.”
“No.”
“Fine.” His hand helicopters in the air signaling for the driver to go.
“Asshole,” I breathe, watching helplessly as Wes’s car gets towed.
He’s going to kill me.
“So. It looks like your stuck with me. I’ll give you a ride home for a kiss.”
In ten seconds, I plot my next move.
Sauntering towards him, I stop just as the tips of my shoes, touch his. He inhales sharply, eyes blazing as he studies my face.
He wants me.
Bad.
My tongue comes out to lick my lips. “You’re killing me,” he groans, hands reaching for my waist.
Grabbing the back of his head, I tug it down to mine. “You weren’t that good last time.” I lie through my teeth, moving back and racing to the driver’s side of the campus police car. He watches in stunned shock as I climb in, turn on the lights, lock the door, and pull away.