Sipping on my coffee, I’m enjoying the view, in a ‘hunter’ kind of way. I don’t even feel bad that I’m checking out a few of the guys. I mean, if they’re eye-candy, it would be a travesty not to ogle them…from a safe distance…and from behind my sunglasses so they can’t see me checking them out.
I can’t help but notice the number of obviously good-looking men, with smoking hot wet bodies emerging from the ocean, or embarking upon a quick swim before they head off to work.
“Hmm,” I mutter as I watch one particular guy. He’s swimming out, and although I can’t see them, I can only imagine how muscled his arms are. The waves aren’t very large, but enough to knock him back a few feet as he tries to swim further and further out. I bring my coffee up to my mouth, and find it hovering just in front of my lips. I’m invested in how far out the guy is going to swim before he decides to turn back. The further away he gets, the more I’m cheering him on. I want him to get in a great swim to burn off whatever is going through his head.
I wonder what he’s thinking about, out there alone in the surf, where the only thing keeping him company is his thoughts. Is he wondering if he made the right decision about taking that job? Or maybe he’s worried that he doesn’t have enough for retirement. Or possibly his sixteen-year-old daughter has just told him she’s pregnant. What does someone think about when facing the wrath of untamable and unpredictable water?
What would I be thinking about?
If I want to be honest with myself, I’d say I’d be thinking about River. But if I want to push my feelings for him so far down that I never feel anything again, then I’d say I’d be thinking about the damn cat.
Blinking, I keep watching the guy fighting against the waves, and not letting the water deter him from where he wants to go. I’ll give him credit though, he’s stubborn and persistent. Finally, he stops swimming, and stays bobbing in the water for a good minute or two. Is he thinking that he wants to go on, or that he’s had enough and wants to come back because he’s got to go to work soon?
Yeah, yeah, I know. I should leave and go find tiles, but, something about the way that guy is resolved to get his morning swim in, is somewhat intriguing. I want to know how his journey will end.
He looks around, and finally makes the decision to head back to the shore line. He swims a few strokes, then allows the water to bring him in before starting to swim a few more strokes. He nears the shoreline, and I find I still haven’t taken a sip at all. My coffee is up near my mouth, and all I’ve been doing is staring at the guy and imagining how his story is going to play out.
I watch as he comes closer and closer to the shore line and slowly surfaces from the water. His black shorts cling to him and he rakes his hand through his dark hair.
Holy shit. My mouth waters, as I unapologetically stare at the beautiful man walking closer to me. Water drips off of him and I swear to God, my mouth is hanging open as I stare at how perfect he is.
Jesus, he’s beautiful. Absolutely flawless, and so damn delicious. Wait, if I lick him, he’s mine, right?
Shit. Is the universe playing with me right now? And of course, I realize that all this time, I’ve been ogling River.
I try to look away, to break this intense connection I have toward him, but I’m completely unsuccessful. I can’t not look at Mr. Sex-on-Legs.
He bends to pick his towel up, and this is where I can slip away and he’ll never know I was here.
Except, my stupid legs don’t want to stand, and my even stupider eyes can’t stop staring at him. Even worse, I can’t run away. I’m stuck, fixated on the most divine man God has ever created.
Snap out of it, Hope.
I can’t have him. We just don’t work. We’ve tried in the past, and it’s always ended in the worst of ways.
“Hope?”
Fan-fucking-tastic. While I’ve been sitting, stuck in my own head, River’s seen me and is now standing in front of me with a towel hung low around his hips. I blink, trying to find the words, but my mind is going crazy, wanting to jump him right here and now.
“Hope?” he asks again.
“I can’t have sex with you,” I blurt in an awfully high voice. What the hell is wrong with me? Where did that come from? I clear my throat, sip my stupid, cold coffee and try that again. “Hi, River,” I say this time with smoother delivery. But still, who am I kidding? I’d so go him right now, and I don’t even care that sand would get in places it shouldn’t.
“Well, you can’t have sex with me? Or you won’t have sex with me?” He smirks.
I have to stop looking at him. I lower my eyes, and of course, I take in that hand-sculptured V. “Yes.” Shit. “I mean no.”
“Am I underdressed? Is my body affecting you?” Now he’s shamelessly flirting.
“Yes!” Shut up! “I mean no.”
He laughs, and I try to tear my gaze away from him. “Should I cover up?”
“No!” Oh my God! Why can’t I just zip my damn lips, and not say what I’m thinking? “I mean yes.”
“So, I’m distracting? You like what you see?”
“Yes.” I slap my forehead. “No, I don’t. I’m not saying anything else. I’m leaving.” I get up and swivel away from him. In my haste to escape from what could potentially be a dangerous situation for me, I end up tripping over the small step beside the bench seat and falling flat on my face.
Crisis averted…not.
The crack of my nose breaking, and the blood spurting out, mixed with my shrill, hysterical scream makes it all the more entertaining for anyone watching.
Great.
“Shit, Hope!” River helps me to my feet, and I can feel my nose throbbing. Actually, scratch that, I feel my entire face throbbing in extreme pain. I want to cry, and laugh. Definitely more cry than laugh. I think it would hurt too much if I laughed.
And just to add to it, I’ve managed to attract what seems like the entire town trying to help me. “Hope, are you okay?”
“Oh my God, did you see that? She fell flat on her face.”
“Shit, I think she’s broken her nose.”
“Look at all the blood on the ground. I hope she’s not HIV positive.”
“Do you need help?”
The barrage of voices keep coming from all directions.
“I’ve got you,” River says as he places his damp arm around me, and ushers me away from the crowd of people.
“I’m so embarrassed,” I say as he walks us down the street.
“Don’t be. You were consumed by my obvious handsome looks, and you misjudged the step,” he says with a teasing voice. “It was bound to happen.”
Even with the pain so bad I have tears streaming down my cheek, I want to laugh too. “I’ve never broken anything in my body.” I look around, temporarily confused as to where we are. “My truck’s back that way?” I point over my shoulder.
“I’m taking you to the hospital. Here, take my towel and place it on your lap.” He unlocks his truck, and opens the door for me. While trying to juggle the towel and my phone, he scoops me up, and places me in the truck. “We need ice, and fast.”
“Why?”
“Reduces the swelling. But I’d rather get you to the hospital. Hold the towel there, and place your head forward to let the blood drip out.” He shuts the door, and runs to the driver’s side. He gets in, and before I know it, we’re on our way to the hospital. “Are you okay?”
“My pride is bruised as much as my face.”
“Because you were checking me out? Or because you fell flat and damaged your beautiful face? Just so you know, it doesn’t matter to me that your nose is the size of your head, I still think you’re gorgeous.”
“Shit!” I flip the sun visor down to see how bad I actually look. “Holy crap,” I say as I notice the dark circles under my eyes, and how wide my nose now is. “Do you think I’ll need an operation?”
“No idea.”
I look at River, and panic has really set in. “I don’t have time for an opera
tion!” I say. “I’ve got a house I need to rebuild.”
“Calm down.” He places his hand on my thigh and gives me a reassuring squeeze. “Just wait to see what the doctors have to say.”
When we get to the hospital, he parks and runs over to help me out of the truck. My face is throbbing, and it feels like my eyes are so puffy I can barely open them. “How bad do I look?” I ask.
“What’s the scale? One being your normal gorgeous self and ten being you’ve run into the back of a parked truck?”
“If you tell me I’m a ten, I won’t be liking you anymore.”
“You’re absolutely a one then.”
We head inside and, luckily, I’m seen fairly quickly. Thankfully, River has somehow found a shirt.
“Thank you for bringing me home, and staying with me,” I say to River.
“Doctor’s orders, have a shower, something to eat and take those pain meds they prescribed you.”
“It’s really not that bad.”
He looks at me with raised eyebrows. “I’m going to get you something to eat.” He starts looking through my cupboards, and discovers the serious lack of food. “What the hell have you been eating?”
“You know. Stuff,” I reply. “Shit! The donuts.”
“What donuts?”
“I bought some from a vendor this morning, and then this happened.” I point to my nose. “I must’ve left them at the beach.” I groan, upset with myself for leaving them behind. “Man.”
River laughs and when I fling him an annoyed glare, he laughs some more. “You’re damn lucky you don’t need an operation, and all you’re worried about is some donuts?”
“It’s your fault anyway,” I say.
“Why’s it my fault? You were ogling me like I was part of a wet t-shirt competition. And you didn’t want me to know you were drooling all over me, so you tried to run, and fell on your face. Literally.” He looks in the fridge, then shakes his head again. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong.” Yeah, right. We both know I was shamelessly gawking at him.
“Aha. Anyway, I’m going into town to get you some real food.” He opens the last cupboard and takes out a nearly empty box of Poptarts. “Really? Poptarts?”
“There’s nothing wrong with Poptarts.”
“Not at all, I loved them…when I was a kid.”
“You’re so damn judgey,” I snap.
“Says the chick who was checking me out. Superficial much?” He grabs his truck keys off the counter where he left them when he brought me home. “I’m going home to grab some clothes, then I’ll go to the store to get some real food. I’ll be about an hour. Do you need anything?”
Him naked. What? No. It’s the drugs talking. Well, it would be the drugs if I’d taken any. “You don’t have to come back.”
“I know.”
I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. “So it’s settled, you’re not coming back.”
“If you think so.” He walks to the door. “I’ll be back in about an hour,” he calls. “Go for a shower.”
Yes, sir, Mr. Grumble-Bum. “Fine.”
I hear his truck start then leave. Suddenly, I find I’m really tired. I should close my eyes for a minute. But the doctor said I shouldn’t go to sleep for at least another hour in case I have a concussion. Ugh, I may as well just have a shower. That way, by the time River returns. I’ll be ready to eat something, and go to bed. What a complete waste of the day.
“What the hell happened to you?” Charlie asks as he walks into the stable.
“Long story. But my truck is at the beach. Do you think you can arrange for someone to go get it?” I search for my keys in my bag, and give them to Charlie.
“Tell me someone didn’t touch you. Cause I’ll fucking kill them. Is Grady…?” the question is serious, and I can tell Charlie will destroy anyone who’d lay their hands on me.
“No, I was an idiot.”
“How?”
Shit, I’m going to have to tell him. “Long story short, I went to the growers market this morning, and was sitting on the beach watching everyone swimming. Saw a guy, was perving, hard. Turned out the guy was River. He saw me, I tried to run away and face-planted. The pavement won, I lost.” I point to my nose.
Charlie’s trying really hard not to laugh. But he sucks at holding in the hysterical, big belly laughs. “Shit, Hope.” He wipes at his eyes. “That’s so funny. Man, I bet you feel like an ass.”
“Shut up and go get my truck.”
Meow.
“Fine. But you know, I’m not going to let you live this down.”
“Hope, I heard about what happened, are you okay?” Tabitha barrels in, completely unannounced. She looks at my face, and her eyes widen, as she covers her mouth with her hand, trying to hide the shock. “Whoa, you look terrible.”
“I know. It looks worse than it feels. Lucky River was there to help.”
“Because you were drooling all over him,” Charlie adds.
“Shut up. We don’t speak of these things,” I say.
Tabitha looks to Charlie, then me. “Oh, did something happen?”
“She was drooling over River, then turned to run away when he saw her, and she kissed the pavement…with her nose.”
Tabitha sucks in her cheeks, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” I say, feeling sorry for myself. “Can someone give me sympathy?”
“Nah, sorry,” Charlie says.
“I could go and get Aunt May, she may give you some,” Tabitha says.
“That’s it, you’re both off my Christmas card list. Charlie, get someone to take you and get my truck.” I get up, and grab my pajamas out of the top drawer next to the bed.
“I can take you,” Tabitha offers. “I’ll come back and make you chicken soup if you like, Hope.”
“Thank you, but River said he’s going to the store. Thank you, though.”
“Hmmm, I might make myself scarce tonight,” Charlie says. “I don’t want to hear you two going at it.”
“Oh my God. Get out!” I yell at him. “River’s just a friend. That’s it. Nothing more.”
“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” Tabitha says as she leaves first.
Charlie’s walking backward, looking at me, while he’s made an O with his left hand, and is using his pointer finger on his right hand to poke the O. “Out!” I say through a clenched jaw, which hurts.
Charlie then thrusts his hips, and pretends to pull the girls hair, and smack her butt. I don’t say anything else, instead, I point to the door.
He’s cracking up.
Truthfully, so am I. He’s an ass. A protective big-brother…and an ass.
Meow.
“Damn it, you want food. At least I have that here. Hang on.” I get the cat’s bowl, and open a tin of food for him. “Should I name you something?”
The cat looks at me, crouches, and starts delicately eating.
“I don’t know what to call you. I can’t keep calling you the cat, although you seem to respond to it. Maybe that can be your name, the cat.” He doesn’t even acknowledge me.
Once the cat is settled, I grab my pajamas, and head into the shower. I look at myself in the mirror and nearly yell at what I look like. There’s blood smeared in my hair, and down my shirt. There are heavy, black crescent-shaped bruises under my eyes. Actually, my entire face is puffy and swollen. “Wow, what a sexy babe you are,” I say to myself.
I strip and turn the water to as hot as I can stand it, and get into the shower. It feels amazing as it pelts down on my back, almost giving me a massage. I lean my head back, and the water streams over my head, and my face. Looking down, I see the obvious tinge of blood as the water pools slightly before emptying down the drain.
Taking my time, I wash my hair, loving every single second of the pressure and the heat of the water.
I’m too scared to turn around and let the water touch my face, but I know I have to try and get as much of the dried blood off as I can. Turning, I wi
nce as the water hits my nose. “Oh shit,” I say. I can’t tolerate too much of it, so I turn again, and choose to use the face cloth to clean that area instead.
I’d better get out of the shower. I could honestly stay in here all day and night. There’s something soothing about hot water running over your body, especially if the day you’ve had has been challenging. You know, like perving on a guy you want to bump uglies with, but won’t because you know you’re leaving and don’t want to suffer a broken heart again.
Turning off the water, I reach for my towel and wrap it around my body. Shit, I forgot one for my hair. I open the door to the bathroom, and take one step out to find River cooking in the kitchen. “Jesus!” I say when I see him.
He looks over his shoulder at me, looks back, then looks again. “Um,” his voice is high. I watch as he visibly swallows, and takes in my towel-clad body. “You should change.”
“I need a towel for my hair.”
“But do you?” his voice is low and guttural. His eyes widen, and he shakes his head. Looking away, he continues cooking whatever he’s stirring. “Don’t mind me, I’m making you my Mom’s chicken soup. Apparently, chicken soup is good for the soul.”
I can’t help but smile, because he sounds like he’s babbling. “I’ll just grab a towel. Be careful, I’m wet.” What the actual fuck did I say? “I mean the floor is wet because I’m wet. From the shower. I’m not wet, wet, you know. I’m just wet.” Shoot me now. Earth, open up and swallow me whole. Right this minute. God damn it, earth! “I’m just gonna shut up now.” I point to the cupboard, although River’s not looking at me. I can see his shoulders shaking as he silently laughs. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything.
Grabbing the towel, I’m sure not going to say a single word. I slip away into the bathroom, and close the door. Quickly, I wrap my hair in the towel, and get changed into my pajamas. When I leave the bathroom, I find River sitting on the sofa, petting the damned cat. And the damned cat is letting him.
“He likes me,” River proudly announces. “Finally.”
“Traitor!” I say to the cat. “You didn’t like him the other day. Why now?”
Meow. The cat purrs as River’s petting him.
Hope's River Page 19