Want You Back

by Lulu Pratt

  Jacob was waiting at the bottom of the steps. For a moment, I had a funny flash of us attending prom together — me, walking down the grand staircase as he twitched nervously at the bottom, corsage in hand, my parents looking on. In reality, I’d attended prom with a jerk who left with another girl. In that split second, I wished we’d done every big life milestone together, had experienced it all and could share it in secret laughs between pillows.

  Girl, pull yourself together, my inner voice nearly shouted.

  Inner voice was right. I was losing my senses. I cleared my throat and held my head high, trying to ignore Jacob’s gaze raking over every inch of my body like a hungry panther. Untamed, insolent — sexy.

  To be plain, it was a two-way street. Jacob had evidently drawn the same conclusions as I about the boating dress code — he’d gone for a sleek black suit, tailored to his body within a hair of an inch, with a thin black tie and matching belt. His oxfords were shiny but not showy, and his cufflinks looked vintage. He grinned, and his brown eyes leapt, as if concealing internal flames. I wanted to run my hands through his hair, trace my cheeks against his stubble, feel those smooth lips on my own.

  “You look… lovely,” he purred, and it was clear that ‘lovely’ hadn’t been the word he really wanted to use. ‘Fucking hot,’ perhaps? That’s what his tone suggested, anyways.

  “You too.”

  “I clean up all right, sure, but you — well, you’re a damn masterpiece.” The lighting was high enough that I could see his hands clench in his trousers, as though he were literally holding himself back from tearing off my dress.

  “Thanks,” I replied, unable to muster more. “Shall we head to the docks?”

  He nodded, and I descended the remainder of the stairs. We were now on the same level, and I loved how he towered over me like a rakishly handsome guardian angel.

  Without further discussion, we exited through the giant back French doors of the house and out to the garden, where just a few hours prior, we’d played that game, the one which had begun to maybe, just a little, change my stance on Jacob. Not that I’m giving up ground, mind you, but…

  Ahem.

  Anyways, Charles’ house was on the water, so he docked his yacht directly behind the garden. I thought rich people were usually in a yacht club or something, but I guess it’s actually swankier to have the boat right outside your own home. I wouldn’t know — it’s not my milieu, to put it mildly.

  Moonlight played across the tree boughs and speckled the large roses coming into bloom, petals open wide. The smell of sea salt filled my nostrils as a gentle wind lapped at my face. The waves crashed in my ear — no, not crashed — fell. They were genial waves, runners for the moon.

  Jacob and I didn’t attempt to speak as we walked towards the boat. What was there to say? We used to date and then you broke my heart and then I hated you but now I’m just really confused? Wasn’t exactly appropriate dinner talk. Both of us had words on the tip of our tongues, I knew, but neither were brave enough to ford those choppy waters. So silence sufficed. And with him, for what it’s worth, silence was comfortable — not awkward, and prolonged, but easy, like a hammock on a summer’s day.

  At last, we arrived at the boat. Excuse me, I mean, the yacht.

  For it certainly defied the term ‘boat’ — it was at least seventy-feet long, done in all white fiberglass from stern to bow, and starkly modern in contrast to the opulently vintage mansion. It was something out of a spy movie. I gave my outfit a once-over, and realized it was a shame cameras weren’t rolling. I was perfectly kitted out to be a Bond girl.

  Jacob whistled low through his teeth.

  “Fancy,” he remarked. “You sure they’ll let an average ol’ construction worker like me up on that pretty thing?”

  I laughed. “Being a construction worker has never stopped you from enjoying the finer things in life before.”

  Again, his eyes held mine, then darted down to my lips before returning to hold my gaze.

  “Ain’t that the truth,” he murmured, then abruptly refocused on the boat. His strong arm extended outward, and I followed its scintillating line to see that his finger was outstretched and pointing. “Look, the party’s already started.”

  Sure enough, on one of the several decks, our colleagues were gathering.

  “Then let’s shake a leg,” I pronounced. In my mind, I thought, anything to put a little space between me and Jacob. If we stayed like this, alone in the dark, for one more minute, my steel-clad self-control would start to melt.

  But as much as I wanted to distract myself from Jacob, I was also none too eager to board that boat.

  I’m not proud of this, but I’m not great with open water. Or rivers. Or shallow pools. Where I grew up, there were plenty of small lakes but nobody to teach us how to swim in them — and we were certainly too poor to hire an instructor. Besides, the ponds had all been contaminated by various factories in the vicinity, so it wasn’t a brilliant idea to wade through them, anyways. Point being, I was now too old to learn how to swim — if a friend had a pool party, I politely stuck my feet in, then promptly put on a sarong and went to the bar.

  This was different, though — this was for my job. There wasn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for my job, as evidenced by, for instance, my pretending to date my ex-boyfriend for the good of the company. So I swallowed my pride and boarded that damn boat.

  Chapter 13

  Jacob

  THE COCKTAILS were being served by the bucket load on the upper deck, which was illuminated by concealed art lights built surreptitiously into the white body of the hull. Pillers people swirled around us, giddy with this newfound luxury. We were all used to working out of dull corporate offices, on construction sites, or some combination of the two. This felt like walking into the world of the Kardashians or the Clooneys.

  The moment we walked onboard, Sierra made a beeline for Amy. I tried not to take it personally, and instead resigned myself to mingling with some of the Tampa folks I knew. We chatted and drank and chatted and drank considerably more. From what I heard tell, Charles was impressed with Pillers. This gave me palpable relief — the happier he was, the more likely my business would stay in the black.

  But while I was chatting and drinking, out of the corner of my eye I was also watching.

  Sierra probably didn’t remember that she’d told me — it was a passing remark made back when we were together — but I knew she was afraid of the water and couldn’t swim. Even on a boat like this one, with high railings and ample safety features, I imagined she might be a bit jumpy. Of course, she would never beg off this cocktail hour, she was too proud, but that didn’t mean she was loving the event.

  I was watching her nervously fiddle with the Champagne coupe in her hand when I saw Charles signaling me from across the deck. With no small amount of reluctance, I tore my eyes from Sierra and sauntered over to where Charles sat, sprawled out on what appeared to be a high-end deck chair. What did this guy want? Another round of the Newlywed Game? More golf? Billionaires, I thought with exasperation. Such a pain in the ass.

  Aloud, I said, “Hey, Charles, thanks for hosting us. Your boat’s a beaut.” From years as a golf caddy, I knew how to speak his language.

  He nodded approvingly. “Thanks. I’m considering buying another. What do you think?”

  “Another yacht?” I asked incredulously.

  “Correct.”

  I took a sip of what I was sure was obscenely expensive Champagne, and replied drily, “Maybe you could give the money to charity instead.”

  There was a long beat of silence, and for a second I thought I’d ruined everything, but then Charles clapped his hands together and said, “What a wonderful idea! Perfect! You’re a smart man, Jacob.”

  I restrained my eyebrows, which desperately wanted to leap to the top of my forehead with dismay. Instead, I stuck with a polite ‘thank you.’

  “Actually, I’d like to talk to you about something,” Charles continued. “Not
yacht related. I’d like to hear more about Got Wood, about your business model, finances, history. So on and so forth.”

  I tilted back a little with surprise. We’d been here a full day and this was the first time Charles had really mentioned the future retirement home, let alone my own personal company. I saw a cold glimmer in his eye, like that of a shark, and realized, He’s not so daft after all. I guess it stands to reason — it’s not like he made his mountains of cash through sheer eccentricity. Charles the businessman had finally shown his face. And that face was a hard, unflinching one.

  “Well, I’d be happy to tell you all about it,” I replied. At the very least, this felt more relevant than his endless string of games. “See, Got Wood, like Pillers, is a family company. It was started by my father back in—”

  And just as I was finally about to get down to brass tacks with Charles, the boat started forward with a sudden lurch. My drink sloshed onto Charles’ suit front as a couple other guests gasped in surprise.

  “Oh man,” I began, reaching to dab Charles’ shirt. “I’m so sorry about that—”

  “Don’t worry,” he replied. “Just choppy waters.” To the company, he said loudly, “Nothing to worry about, folks, just the boat leaving the dock, everything’s fi—”

  “Woman overboard!” a voice shouted. “Woman overboard!”

  The party on the upper deck descended into chaos. People began to scream.

  “Where is she?”

  “Over there, somewhere.”

  “Does anyone have a phone light?”

  “Goddamn, where’s the captain?”

  I raced to the side of the railing where people seemed to be gathering and began pushing them aside, scooting to the front of the crowd.

  After a moment, I got a glimpse of the thrashing body creating white waves. It was Sierra.

  I found myself falling into the waves too, but on purpose. I jumped in, without a thought, over the railing, a smooth, two-story plummet into the dark waters. I didn’t have time to think, to consider my safety. She was in danger — she needed me. It was hot out, but the water was still chilly. I felt it seep through the fabric of my suit, felt it go damp and cold and drag me down.

  Sierra’s arms hit madly at the water, her head rising and falling under the waves. I frog-kicked over to her, my hands paddling frantically in front of me. My mind was leveled by a sudden, powerful clarity, a single-mindedness that I’d never felt before. Save her, my inner voice said. Save her.

  I made it to where she was splashing and bobbing, and got my forearms under her armpits from behind. She tried to make a noise, maybe to say something, but it was all watery coughs. I leaned on my back, using the weight of my body to lever her up and into a floating position. Was this good lifeguarding technique? Possibly not. I didn’t care. I’d drown if that’s what it took to save her.

  The waves around us stopped, and Sierra went still. For a long, heart-pounding second I thought that she was passed out, or God, maybe dead, but then I heard her splutter a little. She’s alive, I thought, with such relief that I had to resist the urge to cry.

  “Sierra?” I whispered into her ear, hoping she wasn’t too waterlogged to hear me.

  “Jacob,” she breathed.

  That was all I needed, that reassurance that she would make it. “Shh, shh,” I said. “You don’t have to talk. Just lie back on me, that’s a girl, lie back and I’ll get you out of here.”

  She nodded a little, and tilted back until she was flush on my chest, her pale skin beaded with drops of ocean in the moonlight. I was reminded of Ophelia, with a bouquet of flowers in her hand.

  There was a large splash near us, and I turned to see that the people on the ship had thrown us a life preserver. They were saying something but my adrenaline was too high to decipher it. This was survival mode.

  With Sierra still carefully balanced atop me, I began to maneuver us over to the life preserver. After a few moments, and a few feet, we reached it, and I took one of Sierra’s hands and placed it on the buoyed object.

  “You’re safe,” I told her. “Feel that? Hold on to it.”

  She gripped the life preserver, but didn’t move away from me. Her grasp on it was tenuous at best, so I wrapped my left arm around her chest and under her arms, trying to avoid her breasts, and hooked my right arm around the preserver.

  “Pull us in!” I shouted to those on board.

  The rope began to move rapidly, and we were tugged closer and closer to the back of the ship, where a small loading deck floated. As soon as we reached the deck, my free hand found a steel ladder. Luckily, it was close to the water, so I wouldn’t have to lift our damp bodies too far.

  With a deep inhalation, I stepped on the ladder and inched onto the deck, Sierra in tow. The exertion made it all a blur — my vision swam before me.

  Finally, we were on solid ground. I exhaled, and laid Sierra down on the wooden planks, her damp hair curling around her, mermaid-like. She was paler than usual, with a frightening blue tinge, and her eyes were closed. She shivered. I had to warm her up.

  I took her hands between mine and began to rub them rapidly, back and forth, like I was kindling a fire.

  “Wake up, Sierra,” I pleaded.

  Through trembling lips, she replied, “I-I-It’s cold.”

  “I know, hon, I know it is.”

  “Hold me,” she asked in a whisper. “Please.”

  It probably wasn’t a good idea. I knew that cradling my ex couldn’t lead to anything smart. But Sierra had just had a near-death experience. There was no time to worry about awkwardness.

  I flopped down at her side, spooning my body around hers. She fit against me so snugly — minus the eerily cold touch of her skin, it was so familiar. I kneaded the skin of her arm, coaxing the blood flow back.

  That’s right around when my stupid body began to betray me. Despite the cold, and the adrenaline, I could feel a boner beginning to rise in my damp trousers, hard against her tailbone. I scooted away quickly, but not before she shifted her head to look over her shoulder.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I replied.

  She raised an eyebrow, which embarrassed me but was also a sound reassurance that she was coming back to life.

  Just then, the people from the upper deck came racing down to us, Joe, Tom and Charles in the lead.

  “My God,” Charles said, seeing us lying on the platform. “What—”

  Joe interrupted, “Are you okay, is she okay?”

  I nodded, and Tom breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

  Sierra slowly sat up, and responded, with an attitude of mild embarrassment, “I’m fine. I’m so sorry, I don’t know how I fell over, it—”

  “Don’t apologize,” Charles interjected sternly. “Not your fault at all. The captain should’ve warned us we were departing. Idiot.”

  She stared at him blankly, and I knew that her energy for dealing with crazy billionaires was all used up for the night.

  Before anyone else could grill her, I said, “Ladies, gentlemen, maybe I’d better get her back to the mansion. Sierra?”

  “Yes, please,” she murmured.

  The faces looked concerned, but relented.

  As Charles radioed the captain, Joe gave her another look. “Are you sure you don’t want medical attention?” he asked her in an almost paternal tone.

  She shivered, but replied, “I’m okay, really, just worn out.”

  “Well… if you’re sure.”

  In no time, the boat had re-docked. We hadn’t moved very far, after all. Our little platform touched the edge.

  “Do you think you can walk?” I asked Sierra.

  “Of course,” she replied, with her normal indignation but not quite the usual level of spunk. “Please, just get me off this ship.”

  “Deal,” I grinned.

  Our bosses and Charles helped me lead Sierra off the boat, with promises to make our apologies to the rest of the company and assurances that
we’d see them tomorrow.

  We made it onto dry land, and the boat soon pulled away once more, jetting off into the night as Charles waved back to us. Apparently, the whole ‘woman almost drowned’ thing wasn’t enough to put him off a midnight escapade.

  With my arm under Sierra, we began to make our way back to the mansion, but I could feel how weak she was.

  “Don’t get mad,” I told her, before swiftly scooping Sierra into my arms, her feet leaving the ground and sailing into the air. Her arms intertwined, as though by instinct, around my neck.

  “I’m not mad,” she whispered. “Take me home.”

  Chapter 14

  Sierra

  THE WALK — or I guess, ride — back to the mansion in Jacob’s arms was dream-like. Cocooned in his firm grip, I knew that nothing and no one would harm me so long as he was around. It felt safe, in a way I hadn’t felt safe in a long time.

  And, yeah, it didn’t hurt that his chest was cut like marble, and that he’d gotten an erection when we were spooning on the deck. Oh, you thought I missed that? Not a chance. Even half-drowned and bedraggled like a wet cat, I could feel the steam rising off Jacob and his unmentionables.

  So being in his arms was safe, but confusing. His presence turned me on, but our history turned me off. I wanted his body, but didn’t want our baggage.

  I thought I would be strong enough to resist him, right up until the moment he’d heroically rescued me from the water. As he’d tugged me out of the choppy depths, I thought maybe the water was a baptism, a rebirth.

  Or, possibly, I was just in shock from almost dying. Very possible.

  He mounted the stairs, and I marveled again at his immense muscles.

  “You’re… strong,” I managed to say through chattering teeth.

  Jacob gratified me with a laugh. “Thanks. Construction work will do that to a guy.” He broke off, and though my head was curled against his chest, I heard his foot collide with wood and knew he was kicking open a door.