by Jill Shalvis
“I’m Mandy,” Ms. Camel Toe said, sliding a side glance at Mr. Lake Patrol, who actually scored another point in Sophie’s eyes when he took a quick, dismissive glance and then refocused on Sophie.
“I don’t understand,” Mandy said, confused, staring at Sophie now too. “Who are you? And don’t even think of moving in on me. Monday mornings are mine and Lucas’s. Well, every other Monday because he has very important meetings on the other Mondays. But he’s going to leave his wife for me, so back off.”
“Okay, I’ve got both good news and bad news for you,” Sophie said. “The good news is that he did indeed leave his wife. Me.”
Mandy did a double-take. “You’re the coat hanger he dumped?”
Jeez, give up college and then your own life to run your husband’s busy schedule for him and suddenly people see you as a worthless extension of the man instead of your own woman.
Good thing she was over that and back at work on herself.
Having no idea what she wanted to do for a living had her in temporary stall mode, but she was working on that too. She was doing the best she could at every job she tried, and so far things hadn’t exactly panned out, but all she could do was keep looking forward.
Mandy crossed her arms. “So where the hell is Lucas?”
Later Sophie would feel bad for what popped out of her mouth. Much later. “He… passed.” Which actually, wasn’t a total lie, because if a Mack truck didn’t run her ex over by week’s end, she might just do the deed herself.
Mandy blinked. “Passed as in… passed?”
You’re helping her out here, Sophie told herself. Saving her future heartbreak. So she did her best to look suitably grief stricken as she nodded and braced for hysterics.
But instead Mandy got all red in the face and stomped a stiletto on the dock. “Why, that bastard! He said that he’d had a lot of personal growth lately and he’d come to some life-altering decisions about us! And then he up and dies? Are you kidding me?”
Sophie didn’t think that a hard-on counted as personal growth. She also felt she deserved a medal for sainthood for refraining from mentioning it.
“I had the diamond ring all picked out with a matching necklace and bracelet and everything.” Mandy blew out a sigh. “Men suck.”
Now there was something they could agree on.
“I need to board the boat,” Mandy said, her breasts quivering in indignation. “I left a few things down there that the asshole doesn’t deserve, even in death.”
“Such as?” Sophie asked.
“Lucas gave me a drawer.”
Sophie stared at her for a beat and then whirled and went below deck. She indeed found the drawer filled with lingerie and… ew… something in fluorescent pink that required batteries. Rather than touch anything, she yanked out the entire drawer and stormed above deck.
And tripped.
The contents of the drawer flew free and scattered across the dock. Lacy thongs, garter belts, skimpy bras… And last but not least, the fluorescent-pink battery-operated toy, which rolled to a stop at Lake Patrol Hottie’s feet.
And then began to vibrate.
Lake Patrol Hottie stared down at it. “You have a license for this?” he asked Sophie.
“It’s not mine!”
Mandy gave a big huff and gathered it up along with the rest of her lingerie, glaring at Sophie like this was all her fault. “I’ll have you know, Lucas loved me and my Rabbit more than you.” Then she whirled and headed up the dock, her heels click, click, clicking, her vibrator humming along in accompaniment.
Sophie sighed into the awkward silence between her and Lake Patrol Hottie. Actually, it was probably just her who felt awkward because he stood there looking perfectly comfortable and at ease.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said.
“Don’t be. He didn’t die.” She backed to the bench next to the driver’s seat and dropped onto it in sheer woozy exhaustion. “What I said was that he’d passed. As in he passed on me.”
And that was all she planned on saying on the subject.
Ever.
But apparently he didn’t get the memo because he crouched on the deck so that they were eye level and said nothing.
She ground her teeth. The wind was back, dammit, and the boat began to rock. “Look, I said I’d move. I just need a minute.”
He nodded and… stayed right where he was.
“You don’t believe me?” she asked.
“Just waiting to see if you need any help.”
She eyed him suspiciously, but he seemed to mean it. He really would assist her if she needed it. But she didn’t need it. Not from him. Not from anyone.
Somehow she crawled behind the wheel. She started the boat before suddenly remembering she had to untie the boat first.
But her lake patrol guy was already on it, handling the ropes like he’d been born to the task, using his foot to push on the hull so it didn’t scrape against the dock and get damaged. He then tossed the rope into the boat. “You’re good,” he said.
She stared at him. Was he kidding? She wasn’t good, she was a hot mess and they both knew it, but then again he’d meant the boat, not her, and she knew that too. Still, she appreciated his unsolicited help. “Thanks,” she said.
He nodded. Waited a beat. “Need help finding the throttle?”
This actually made her smile. “You’re a real charmer, you know that?”
“Yep, I’m fresh off the boat from charm school.”
“Where was it, Timbuktu?”
“Close,” he said, offering no further explanation.
Fine. Whatever. Over mysterious men, over men period, she hit the gas. When she glanced in the rearview mirror a minute later, he was still standing there on the dock, hands shoved in his pockets, watching her go.
Chapter 2
The very last thing Jacob Kincaid had expected on his first day back in town was a run-in with a mysterious, green-eyed, temperamental cutie. Somehow she’d managed to pull him out of his own head while also irritating and amusing him at the same time.
She’d also made him feel alive.
Since that messed with his head more than a little bit, he got in his new Ford truck and took a ride. The truck had been a present to himself for making it stateside in one piece. It drove well, but his attention was distracted by his first view of Cedar Ridge in a long time.
It felt like a lifetime since he’d walked away from his family—his mom; twin brother, Hud; and the rest of the Kincaids—when he’d been an eighteen-year-old hothead. He hadn’t been back.
Until now.
He’d been a lot of things in his lifetime. Brother. Son. Friend. Army Special Forces officer.
He was none of those things at the moment, though he intended to change that. He had begun by leasing a small cabin on the lake only a mile outside of town, a place that had once upon a time been the only true home he’d ever known.
Not that he’d admitted this until recently, and then only to himself.
The cabin sat on the northeast shoreline of the lake and was quiet and peaceful—two things his life had most definitely never been.
Something else he intended to change.
When he’d arrived late last night, he’d picked up the keys and spoken briefly to the Realtor, who’d tried to convince him to buy the cabin instead of renting.
But Jacob no longer made quick, rash decisions.
Although he had just chased away the first civilian woman he’d had contact with in a while and he’d done so pretty quickly and rashly.
Yeah, he could’ve definitely done better there, he admitted. Clearly he was way out of practice being sociable. Maybe he was more messed up than he’d thought because he’d actually gotten a kick out of the way her eyes had flashed temper at him, at the world. It’d been like trying to deal with a fiercely angry, beautiful, injured feline and in spite of the sharp claws, she’d given him something he hadn’t felt in a damn long time.
Adrenalin
e. The good kind. And after eight years in the military life, also a taste of the real world.
Town was… the same. Small, but geared to the tourists who came through to ski. The streets were filled with expensive clothing boutiques, art galleries, jewelry shops, a few cafes, bars, B&Bs, and the like. At age eighteen, Jacob had been climbing the walls here, bored, slowly suffocating.
Now, after having been overseas and seeing more shitholes than he cared to remember, he could see in Cedar Ridge what others did, a unique quaintness and charm.
He didn’t want to run the risk of stopping and running into anyone he knew. His estranged family deserved to be told first, but the need for caffeine overruled self-preservation. Striding into a coffee shop like he was on a mission, he bought coffee and a bagel to go, and headed back to the cabin.
Unscathed.
Red’s boat was still gone, and relief filled him. And if there was also a twinge of something that felt suspiciously like disappointment, he didn’t examine it too closely.
Instead, he found several paddleboards leaning against the side of the cabin and decided, What the hell. He took one out onto the water, paddling himself into oblivion so that maybe he’d sleep that night instead of figuring out how to reach out to his family after all this time now that he was on leave, or thinking about the reason he’d been given a month of bereavement leave in the first place.
The next morning, Jacob woke up to find his arms pleasantly sore from all the paddleboarding he’d done to clear his head. The chilly June air sliced through the window he’d left open and right through him as well, sharp and pine scented. From flat on his back he could see a sliver of the lake, the surface littered with white caps, much rougher and choppier than it had been the past few days.
He lay there a minute, unable to shut off his mind. It kept flashing images. Images of his closest friend, Brett, dying in his arms in the desolate wasteland that was Afghanistan. Images of the look on his twin’s face when they’d fought that long-ago day. Jacob hadn’t seen Hud since. Images of his mom, who with her dementia couldn’t keep time or place or people straight but never forgot who he was.
Even Red had somehow wormed her way in; tough and snarky, yet she’d shown him a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability too. The combination had caught his interest.
And attracted him.
Not that he had time to go there. Nope, he was concentrating all his energy on figuring out how to approach his family. Day three and he was still drawing a big zero on that front. He’d given no advance warning of his arrival because, hell, what did one say after nearly a decade of radio silence?
But today was the day. He’d stalled enough. And at the thought of what lay ahead for him, his gut tightened.
Nerves. Crazy, since it’d been a damn long time since he’d been nervous about anything.
He rolled out of bed, showered, dressed, and headed out, once again on the hunt for food he didn’t have to make himself. Halfway to his truck he glanced through the clump of trees lining his property to the lake.
The Lucas was back, moored on his dock again.
Changing directions, he headed down there and eyed the boat. No sign of Red, but he heard something from below deck. A… moan?
Walk away, soldier.
But hell. He couldn’t do it. “Hello?” he called out. “Red?”
The ensuing silence was so thick that he could tell she’d stopped breathing. “I’m boarding,” he said and when she didn’t respond, hoping she wasn’t aiming a gun his way, he went for it. As he did, she struggled above deck.
She wore a white tank top and a short, flowery skirt that flirted with her thighs. She had a forest-green sweater in one hand and a pair of high-heeled sandals dangling from the other.
With one look, she perfectly conveyed her annoyance as she sagged to the captain’s chair and dropped her head to her knees. “Why you?” she moaned. “I mean, seriously, what the hell is up with my karma? It’s like the bitch went on vacay. On another planet.”
“Nice to see you again too,” he said dryly. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” she said to her knees, more than a little hint of the South in her tone. “I always talk to my knees while a stranger asks me twenty questions. Nope, I’m great. My glass is totally half-full.”
This made him smile. Call him sick but he loved snark on a woman. “Are you okay?”
“Fan-fricking-tastic. Only way today could get better is if I was scheduled for an appendectomy. Without drugs. In a third-world country.”
Snark and a bad ’tude, like she wouldn’t hesitate to kick someone’s ass if she needed to. Didn’t get hotter than that. He crouched next to her so that he was level with her face, not that he could see it since it was still pressed into her legs. “You’re not supposed to—”
“—moor here,” she said, very carefully not moving a single inch. “Yes, you ever so helpfully mentioned that yesterday.”
“I was going to say you’re not supposed to look down when you’re seasick, it makes it worse.”
“Oh.” She hesitated and then turned her head to look at him. “And you’re not supposed to be nice when I’m not. But thanks—oh crap. Oh shit,” she whispered miserably as the boat rocked.
Jacob instinctively reached out and rubbed a hand over her back. “Have you tried Dramamine?”
“Yes. It doesn’t work. I’m getting a patch today.”
“That’ll help,” he said.
She nodded and sat up. “I’m sorry I’m back here. I just need to stay docked for the day, okay? I know the cabin’s for sale and no one lives there, so I don’t see a problem with that.”
Other than she was getting off without having to pay the fees, which he suspected she couldn’t afford. “Just so you know, the cabin’s no longer empty,” he said, fully intending to also say that she could keep her boat on his dock as long as she needed.
But she made a sound that might have been a snort of laughter or a sob. A little terrified it was the latter, he rose up to his full height just as she gasped, then moaned, and… threw up.
An inch from his shoes.
Welcome home, he thought.
Find more at
https://jillshalvis.com/books/nobody-but-you/
Please turn the page for a preview of the first book in Jill Shalvis’s Cedar Ridge series,
Second Chance Summer!
Available now!
Chapter 1
After fighting a brush fire at the base of Cedar Ridge for ten straight hours, Aidan Kincaid had only three things on his mind: sex, pizza, and beer. Given the way the day had gone, he’d gladly take them in any order he could get them.
Not in the cards.
He and the rest of his fire crew had finally managed to get back to the station. They’d been there just long enough to load their plates when the alarm went off again.
“What the hell!”
“Gonna break the damn bell and shove it up someone’s—”
“This is bullshit…”
Whoever said no one could outswear a sailor had never lived in a firehouse. Ignoring the grumbling around him, Aidan pushed his plate away and met his partner Mitch’s gaze.
“Gotta be a full moon bringing out the crazy,” Mitch said.
“Maybe the crazy just follows you,” Aidan suggested.