Between Us: A Vacation Romance (The Monroe Series Book 3)

by Emma Tharp

  "Then that's where we'll go." The Amalfi coast sounds expensive. I'm really going to have to get creative this year to save enough money for the trip. It can be done. Especially once I put my mind to it.

  “Unless you’d like to go to Rome or Venice. I’d go anywhere. Italy is fabulous.” She winks at me and squeezes my hand.

  “You tell me. I’ll let you be my guide,” I say.

  We finish our lunch and make our way back to the lake house. Her car is fun to drive—it has so much horsepower. And it’s a comfortable ride, much different than my pickup. I take the long way back to the cottage with the windows down and the radio playing.

  “Let’s change into our bathing suits and go for a swim,” I suggest when we get back.

  Giselle comes up to me and twines her hands around my neck. “Sure, and we can bring a picnic basket with us to enjoy a nice dinner out on the lake in the boat.”

  “Great idea. I’ll change and get the boat ready to go.”

  “And I’ll prep a few snacks for dinner.” She presses a gentle kiss on my lips before going to the refrigerator.

  I make my way upstairs with a giddy feeling in my heart. We’re so in sync, like an old married couple. And I have to admit, even though I know she has probably choreographed this trip to the minute, I'm loving every bit of it. After my ski accident, I realized I loved her. And I’m not sure how I am going to tell her, but the timing has to be perfect. It has to be later in the week. She's never going to believe me this soon. She needs to think it was a conclusion I reached after days together. And I can't tell her during sex because she’ll think it was the event and not the actual emotions. I’m going to have to wait for a moment when it’s random and all the more believable.

  Once outside, I go out the length of the dock and get in the boat. It only takes a minute to get my bearings. Giving it a quick visual, everything looks clean and ready to go with a full tank of gas. I check that the shifter is in neutral and the throttle is in correct position. Starting the engine, it purrs to life. I love that sound. One last check for oil pressure, volts, and engine temperature. We are good to go.

  I go back out onto the dock and see Giselle is walking toward me, sexy as hell with her bikini on and picnic basket in hand.

  "I guess the real question is, do you know how to drive this thing?" she asks.

  Nodding, I untie the ropes from the dock. "I sure do." It's been a couple of years since I've driven a boat, but it's like riding a bike. I don't personally own a boat, but I have a few friends who do. I take Giselle’s hand and help her on board. "We had a small fishing boat growing up. My dad taught me how to drive it when I was twelve. I have great memories of going out first thing in the morning when the sun came up. Dad and I would get a dozen doughnuts and eat them all throughout the morning. I even caught a giant bass one year. Dad had it mounted and it’s still in his man cave.”

  Giselle’s eyes widen as she gets comfortable in the back seat. “Impressive.”

  “Do you get to go boating much?”

  She scrunches her eyes. I know this look. It’s when she’s going into her head. Like she has to think out her response. “I have. But not enough. Boating is so relaxing.”

  “I’m glad you enjoy it. We can use the boat as much as you'd like while we’re here.” I start backing out. Once clear of the dock, I pull forward and keep the speed low in the no wake zone. There are tons of boats out, and it’s a beautiful day with barely any waves.

  I love watching the breeze blow through Giselle's hair as she leans her head back on the seat and closes her eyes. I know this woman barely ever gets a chance to relax. It's good to see her this way.

  We have a nice spin around the lake before we head back inland and I find a spot to anchor, eat, and watch the sunset.

  Giselle opens the picnic basket and pours us each a glass of wine from a bottle she bought at the vineyard and I bring out the fruit, meat, and cheese.

  “What’d you think of the ride?” I ask, popping a piece of swiss in my mouth.

  “It was so peaceful. Exactly what I needed. Thank you.” She lays a gentle kiss on my lips. "You have to try the fruit dip that I made." She runs a raspberry through it and brings it to my lips.

  "Wow, this is good." I have no idea what's in it, but it has a nice creamy texture.

  “It's made with ice wine and cream cheese. I'm glad you like it." She has a sweet smile on her face. Clearly proud that she made something I like.

  I lean in and whisper in her ear. "I'd like to drizzle this all over your body and lick it off."

  Her eyes dart around the busy lake where there are tons of boats all watching the sunset like us. Her shoulders seem to tense. "What are you waiting for?"

  It's obvious the prospect of having sex on the boat now intimidates her. And that wouldn't be fun. I want her to feel safe, not concerned that others will be watching us. "I'd rather take you back to the lake house." I kiss her cheek, her jaw, and her neck.

  "Then you better get driving," Giselle nearly pants.

  Without another thought, I pull up the anchor and start the engine.

  Nine

  Giselle

  Waking up, I stretch my arms above my head and yawn. The first rays of morning sun peek through the curtains and I can’t help but smile. Every day has been cloudless and bright this week. Dean, handsome even while he sleeps, breathes steadily next to me.

  He never ceases to amaze me. And his talented tongue had me begging for more last night. No wonder I was half exhausted and turned in early. I mean, we didn't plan it that way, but we spent hours on foreplay, and by the time we reached the main event, I could hardly stand it. My adrenaline had run out. No one can maintain that kind of intensity for long, but he helped me last longer than expected. And when we were done and I was panting, I cuddled up against his side, the natural reaction for two people who are so comfortable together.

  Now, it's ridiculously early in the morning, but I'm rested.

  Part of me wants to stay here in bed with him, relaxing, but the rest of me remembers that this goes completely against my nature.

  This is my one week off and I'm not going to waste a minute of it.

  I secure my robe around my waist and wander to the kitchen. I’d like to make Dean a big breakfast this morning and we don't have any morning plans.

  Today, I hope we go out to lunch and then maybe some shopping. A lazy day, because I bought us concert tickets for tonight. I am so excited to see live music with Dean. It's like I had to cram a year of living into a week. It's a challenge, but one I gladly accept.

  I’m standing at the stove cooking bacon when all of a sudden, my heart is in my throat, hammering away when Dean comes up behind me and wraps his arm around me. With my earbuds in, shaking my hips, I didn’t hear him coming up behind me. “You scared me,” I say.

  “I’m sorry. You're the perfect woman," he announces as he grabs a slice of bacon from the plate.

  I grin. "Thanks." I want him to think that. I really do. I'd like our time together to be perfect for us both, and I think it is. We can have a ton of fun together, some seriously mind-blowing sex, and make loads of memories doing a variety of outings.

  For one week a year, I leave behind all the stress of my day to day and move into this wonderful, relaxing, completely Zen state. Then, I can return to my life, renewed and refreshed.

  "What's the plan for today?” He kisses the back of my neck.

  I finish scrambling our eggs so they won’t burn, even though his kisses have my entire body tingling. "Maybe a little shopping and tonight we are going to see Mumford and Sons at SPAC," I say, my voice getting as loud and excited as a schoolgirl talking about the prom.

  Dean lifts me up and spins me around. He sets me back on my feet with his teal eyes sparkling. "I love Mumford and Sons. That's going to be the best!"

  Internally, I’m doing a victory dance. I had no idea he would be so thrilled. I knew he loved the band, but I guess I didn't realize how much. "You're going t
o love Saratoga Performing Arts Center as well. It's a great concert venue. I saw Dave Matthews Band play there years ago. It was amazing."

  "I wasn't kidding earlier. You really are the perfect woman." He gives me a wink before filling his mug with coffee.

  We eat our breakfast and shower before we leave for downtown Saratoga Springs. Our day is spent shopping while holding hands in one of the cutest, most quaint towns I’ve ever been to. We visit a few clothing stores, a bookstore, and finally a café with outdoor seating, for a late lunch.

  People-watching in Saratoga is something Dean and I both enjoy. There are people of all ages and backgrounds. Hipsters, people in jeans and T-shirts looking as if they’re ready to go to the concert tonight, mixed in with folks dressed like they are straight out of the J.Crew catalog ready to hit the horse races. It's the perfect day, but we're both ready to make our way to SPAC for our concert.

  It’s only a couple of miles down the road and the traffic isn’t bad yet. Pulling into the venue’s VIP parking area, we find a spot and make our way in. The Saratoga Performing Arts Center is situated in the middle of a gorgeous state park. There are tall pine trees lining the street and a golf course on the opposite side. We’re ushered through the lines to get in and our tickets are scanned.

  "I'm so excited!” I shriek. "It's been years since I've been to a concert."

  "We're going to have the best time." Dean throws his arm around me and we make our way to the area with food and drinks. We order hamburgers and beer and head down to our seats.

  The energy is electric and the concert hasn't even started yet. My heart starts pumping. It’s almost like walking into the courtroom for the reading of the final verdict when I know I fought as hard as I could and I’m sure I’m going to win the case.

  "The seats are great," Dean says with wide eyes.

  I did splurge a little on the tickets, but Dean doesn't need to know that. He feels bad enough when I pay for things. And when I’m on vacation, I like to go all out. "I was on the ticket website the day the tickets were released. I guess I got lucky."

  "We both did. Thank you." Dean raises his eyebrows and gives my thigh a squeeze. I'm not sure if he realizes how fortunate I am and how lucky I feel that we get to spend this time together. One of my flaws is that I’m not always the best when it comes to expressing my emotions. I'm going to have to do a better job of showing him.

  We’re carrying our second beers to our seats when the lights dim and the band comes out on the stage. The venue fills with cheers and screaming.

  When the band plays the first few notes of a popular song, I set my beer down and start clapping along with thousands of other people. I love the way that I can feel the music beating in my heart.

  "I love this song!” Dean yells over the crowd.

  "Me, too!"

  "Thank you, baby." Dean takes my hand and spins me around.

  We dance to some old familiar songs and some new ones I've never heard. Turning to look behind me as the sun goes down, every seat is full and it looks like a sea of people dancing and singing along. I’m on cloud nine from the energy all around me. I wish I could bottle this up and use it later on when I’m back at work, living my day-to-day life.

  The concert ends too soon, but we walk out to the car completely invigorated.

  "I love the feeling after a concert," I tell Dean as I open the door. "It's like being high, but not having to take a drug."

  "I know what you mean. I had the best time tonight." Dean turns on the car, pulls out of our spot, and we make our way out of the venue. The VIP parking pass was worth every penny. We get back to the lake house in record time.

  "I'm never going to be able to sleep now. I'm too ramped up," I say, walking into the kitchen. I open the bottle of wine we started today and pour two glasses. "Let's go out to the dock and look at the sky."

  "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 bre
athe 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.