Paul didn’t think he’d quite caught what she’d said, but he finally covered his face again and hid behind his hand. His hand wasn’t enough to hide his convulsing chest and shoulders, a dead giveaway.
“You’re laughing at me,” she accused, narrowing her eyes at him.
He laughed even louder. He didn’t want to be laughing at the moment, but the more he tried to stop, the harder he laughed. It took him several minutes to finally get it under control, despite the angry glare Rhees had locked on him during his outburst.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he said, gripping his cheeks, trying to squeeze the threatening smile into submission and prevent another eruption.
“Do what?” she fumed, her glare still frosty. “I’m not allowed to vent my fa-rus-stration now, eee-ther?”
“Say shit—I mean—stuff like that,” he implored. “I can’t possibly be expected to carry on a serious conversation with you when you say things like, juicy crisis? Come on, give me a break.”
“You made me promise I wouldn’t curse,” she said coolly. “I’m trying to keep that promise, but if you’d rather I just said the real—”
“No!” he cut her off. He rubbed the back of his neck, no longer trying to hide how humorous he thought it all was. “Keep your promise. It might be the only thing we can count on to keep us from killing each other.” He almost laughed again. “Wait. What do you mean, either?”
“I also promised I wouldn’t run away anymore, so I thought I’d try drowning my sorrows instead.” She’d stopped slurring, suddenly very solemn and direct. “I learned that from you. You call me the runner, but you run away from everything that makes you the tiniest bit uncomfortable.”
“I don’t run,” he said, offended. “I’m right here.”
“Bull-oney!”
He closed his eyes; the effort to not laugh again strained his reserve.
“There’s nothing unusual about that one.”
“Yeah, there is. Most people just say ba-loney.” He emphasized the ‘ba’ instead of ‘bull’.
Rhees made a production of rolling her eyes.
“You ran last night,” she whispered, watching herself fidget with her hands.
“I need to get that damned boat running again,” he said, incredulously. “You know that.”
“The mechanic fixed the part. You stayed after the fact, and drank yourself stupid . . . because you didn’t want to come back to me.”
“You’ve got that wrong,” he said quietly. “I wanted nothing more than to get back to you. I drank because I didn’t think I should want to so badly.”
“I’m not the one who’s sick,” she said, rolling her eyes again.
He scrubbed his face with his hands.
oOo
Paul moved to her side of the booth and started handfeeding her because she refused to eat after getting herself worked up again. She made him take a bite for every bite she took, but they finished off both sandwiches.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Yes, I like it mush better when you sit closh to me.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and he didn’t pull away.
“That too, but I might have been referring to your attempt to run away, by running toward the alcohol,” he said, noticing the slur of her words. “But I was asking about your stomach.”
“You e-like stomachs.” She giggled. “I thought you e-liked booobs.”
“I’m a guy.” He chuckled quietly. He was still reeling a bit from the new revelation about the night before. Having sex with her again went completely against his well-thought-out plan—the plan to drive her away—for her own good, but learning he hadn’t betrayed her, it left him feeling almost giddy. “We’re all geared to like boobs,” he said with a grin. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t have a thing for other body parts too.”
“And your thing is bellies,” she giggled again, and he nodded at the truth.
The waitress brought her another beer, but Rhees slid the bottle to Paul. “You have this one.”
“I’m glad you don’t want it.” He couldn’t hide his relief. “You’re pretty tipsy already.”
“That’s not why I want you to have it.” She grinned, mischievously.
“Oh?”
“You’re more fun when you’re da-runk.”
“I know, lately. I’m sorry.” He thought for a minute, shifting to serious again. “Rhees? Last night, did I . . . force myself on you, again?”
“Nooo.” Her lips formed an O for effect as she drew the word out. “You didn’t the first time ee-ther. I keeep telling you that.”
“I honestly can’t decide whether to be appalled with myself, or relieved.” The crease between his brows deepened. He remembered how sick he’d felt before she told him he’d used the condoms with her. No matter how much he believed she’d be better off with someone else, he had no desire to be that man, no desire to hurt her that way. He had no desire, whatsoever, to be with anyone else.
“When I found two used condoms in my pocket this morning, it made me sick to my stomach. Rhees, I never think about anyone but you. Every thought, every fantasy— even my wet dreams—” He stopped abruptly, embarrassed about admitting that last bit. “I didn’t understand how I could have possibly cheated on you—”
“You definitely did not cheat me out of anything.” She giggled. “You’re a good teacher—ex-cell-en-te! Muy bueno! Orgasms are the best, greatest, most wonderful thing I’ve ever felt in my whole freakin’ ly-ife!”
He gaped at her, conflicted, until he finally shook his head again and grinned, ear to ear. “So I actually called it bumping bellies, huh? Aloud? I’ve never called it that to anyone before, kind of my own personal visualization. You have the most perfect, tempting, adorably sexy belly.”
“Mine? My belly has this pooooch.” She looked down and pulled her T-shirt up. “No matter how much I suck it in—it’s far from perr-fect.”
“Crap! Rhees, put your shirt down.” He reached to help her, jerking it down. He leaned in and whispered, “Your belly is excellente. I’ve wanted to spend time there, lay my head on it, rub it—kiss it. Damn! I can’t be thinking about this.” He scooted away a few inches.
She grinned like a lunatic. “You have a pretty sexy belly too.”
“I thought you liked my Adam’s apple.”
“That was bee-fore we bumped bellies.” She sniggered and her gaze dropped to his stomach. “That eight pack you got goin’ on . . . whoa!”
He grinned and looked bashful, but then the crease between his eyes made another appearance. “So . . . you’re okay with it? I didn’t freak you out, hurt you . . . or something?”
She exhaled her frustration but then pushed the new beer a little closer to him.
“Drink this and there’s a chance we can do it again.” She tapped the bottle, smiling and leaning toward him, trying to look seductive. That definitely helped him to stop smiling, and it made her frown.
“Honestly, Paul. You’d be a lot more fun if you’d just drink.”
“I’m thinking about cutting back on the drinking again. Last night shouldn’t have happened—it wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been so stupid. If I hadn’t been so drunk . . . it can’t change anything.” Paul killed the lighter mood they’d started to enjoy, his conscience getting the best of him—reality had set in again.
Paul did his best to avoid looking at her. She, on the other hand, didn’t stop looking at him, lovingly, at first, but then the worry, concern, regret—every sad emotion he could imagine, took over, breaking his heart. They sat silently for too long and she’d finally turned her gaze to a picture hanging on the wall on the other side of the bar. Her eyes had glazed over and he wasn’t certain if it was the alcohol or the topic.
“I really wish I could see the Loch N
ess Monster,” she finally said out of nowhere.
Paul waited for the punch line, but she didn’t say another word.
“What does the Loch Ness Monster have to do with anything?”
She shrugged. “I just wish I could see it, that’s all—or Bigfoot—I’d settle for seeing Bigfoot.”
He laughed, shaking his head in surrender. “I think you need sleep.”
oOo
“You didn’t sleep any more than I did last night,” Rhees said after Paul told her he’d like her to take a nap. He’d even put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye to convey his concern about her condition.
“I’m used to drunken binges on little to no sleep. Three beers and a shot are about to do you in.” He flashed his crooked grin and it was all she could do not to swoon. “And I need to see about getting that engine part back on The Tow’d.”
“I’m not that drunk.” She thought the alcohol had already started to wear off, but she was tired. An hour and a half of sleep wasn’t enough.
His sexy smile morphed into a stern, warning look.
“Okay, dad. I’ll take a nap.”
He grinned at her jab, but walked on toward the deck, not noticing her turn off into the office to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. When she came around the corner a few seconds later, onto the deck, Ronnie stood behind Paul, massaging his shoulders and he looked to be enjoying it, all too much.
“Hey! Babe,” Rhees said loudly, her tone dripped with derision. He turned Rhees’ direction and was surprised to see her standing—not behind him. He jerked around and looked at Ronnie as if seeing a ghost.
“I saw Rhees give you a massage earlier,” Ronnie explained, not missing a beat, “and I thought you looked like you could use another.” She turned to Rhees patronizingly—the girl didn’t know the meaning of boundaries. “Be a good girl and go get Paul some aspirin. Poor baby has a headache.”
Rhees didn’t move a muscle. She looked at Ronnie, then Paul, and tilted her head at him. He looked as stunned as Rhees felt.
“I thought it was you,” he grasped at a defense. “You were right behind me.”
“Poor baby,” Ronnie said. She pressed her bikini-clad body against Paul’s back while giving Rhees a smug, challenging look. “You’re obviously not very sensitive to his needs. If you really cared about him, you’d go get the aspirin, like I asked, instead of yelling so close to him, and making his head feel worse.”
“Ronnie. I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need your help. Thanks,” Paul said, stepping away and turning to face her. He used far more restraint than Rhees thought he would—should—or felt comfortable with.
“Are you sure?” Ronnie reached up and seductively brushed her fingers down Paul’s neck and across his collarbone. “I thought you were enjoying it, you know, when you leaned affectionately into my hands . . . and moaned, a second ago.”
He glanced nervously at Rhees before giving Ronnie another confused—but not harsh look—it made Rhees’ blood boil that it wasn’t harsh. Paul was not the kind of man to have trouble being harsh when appropriate, and harsh, in this instance, was warranted. She was positive of that.
“Well, I’ll be around, if you change your mind.” Ronnie sashayed away, making whore eyes at him as she went. He stared, his mouth agape, again, until Rhees pushed it closed for him with her finger. She gave him an angry, bug-eyed look, and walked off toward the bathroom. All he could do was give her a, what did I do, look.
oOo
Rhees made it to the gazebo, but didn’t see her mat. She ran through her memory. She definitely remembered seeing Paul putting both mats away when he got up that morning. She looked around. A few people lay scattered around the deck, on other mats. She looked to see who might be brazen enough to dare use hers.
It only took a second to find the answer. Ronnie had rolled it out and was just about to sit down and make herself comfortable.
“Do you see what it says on that mat?” Rhees shrieked.
Rhees didn’t realize how loud she’d spoken, but not one eye failed to look over at the commotion. Ronnie looked down at the writing on the mat and shrugged.
“It says it’s Paul’s, but he won’t mind if I use it.”
“I mind.” Again, Rhees’ raised voice reached every ear on deck.
Ronnie glanced around, looked at Rhees, looked Paul’s direction and actually seemed to ask for his help with her eyes. Rhees shot him a glance, daring him to choose Ronnie over her. He cautiously headed their direction.
“Paul got it for me. It’s ours. We are the only ones who use it.”
“He was on it this morning, alone. You were on another one. The line between what’s yours, and what’s not, seems a little blurred to me.” Ronnie tilted her head, implying how she knew more about their marital problems than the couple had been letting on.
“Paul’s mine.”
“Calm down, Rhees.” Paul rested his hand gently on her back and guided her to sit on the mat.
“Tell her you’re mine.” She tried to put her arms around his neck, but he grabbed her hands and lay her down. His brows knit together as he knelt over her and spoke close to her ear. “Please take a nap.”
“He’s mine—like I’m his.” She glared at Ronnie and then turned back to Paul. “I’m yours. No one else has ever—”
Paul put his finger over her lips and shushed her gently. Rhees had staggered him. It had been a while since he’d thought of it that way, that he was her one and only. He didn’t deserve the gift—but damn, if the idea didn’t make his male ego swell.
“You need rest.”
“But she’s trying to steal—”
“Shh . . .” he said again, and whispered, “she’s a paying student. You’re drunk. You’re tired. Get some sleep, please?”
“Kiss me,” she whispered. “Show her you belong to me.”
He flinched, torn between doing what he wanted to do, and doing what he thought was right.
He kissed her on the forehead.
Chapter 23
Paul stopped abruptly when he came around the corner and not only noticed, but overheard a group of men, two of his students, and three other men. He knew Micah from Rick’s shop, but he’d never seen the other two.
“What I would give to bury my face in those tits,” one of the men he didn’t know said.
“How does she do that?” the other stranger asked. “That’s hot as hell.”
Micah, Gio, and Adrian gave each other nervous looks.
“You guys have a death wish,” Gio said. “No one talks about her like that, ever! No matter how much they might think about it, no one says it aloud.”
Paul glanced around the deck to find the inspiration for their uncouth comments, but he found Rhees on the north corner of the deck with a group of school-aged girls. It shouldn’t have surprised him, it was Tuesday, but with everything going on, dance club had slipped his mind. Rhees happened to be demonstrating a belly roll, wearing nothing but a skimpy, white bikini he’d never seen before. No camisole cover-up. It wasn’t like her to parade around in so little.
She’d been driving him crazy with all her new clothes. The joke he’d hoped to play on her, by nearly buying out the store, had backfired. So far, Rhees had looked great in everything she’d worn, and it was getting harder and harder not to ogle.
She turned a full circle, working her hips, and rolling her stomach as she went, very carefully exaggerating the moves . . . so the girls could see clearly. He lost his train of thought for a second, until the men’s conversation helped him remember what he wanted to do.
“We should get out of here,” Adrian said, anxiously. “I value my life. Let’s go grab something to drink before Pa—”
His friend had interrupted him with a throaty growl inspired by
Rhees’ next move.
“Shiit!” the second stranger exclaimed, practically drooling. “What that girl can do with those hips, imagine her on top. What she could do with a coc—”
The man was unable to finish his sentence because of the fist down his throat.
“That’s my wife!” Paul bellowed. The man lay flat on the deck, and Paul turned to the other man who’d also spoken so vulgarly about Rhees. He picked him up and tossed him off the deck, into the water, and then did the same thing to the man he’d struck.
“I better not see you on my deck again, got that?” Paul threatened the men in the water, and then turned on the other three men, the ones he knew.
They held their hands up in surrender.
“I didn’t say a word—I tried to stop them,” Adrian said. Gio and Micah nodded frantically.
“You’d better watch what creepazoids you bring around my shop,” Paul sneered, driving home how serious he was, and they slinked away. Paul turned to give a gaping Rhees a severe look before ducking into the equipment room, shaking his head.
oOo
Later that afternoon, almost closing time, Rhees glanced up in time to see Paul stop cold when he saw her again. She’d covered up with a short, sheer sundress, sheer enough to blur out her figure, a little, making the bikini underneath look like—
“Hell,” she heard him mumble quietly. “I’m in hell.”
He’d just come around the corner with Fred on his heels. Apparently, getting the parts back into the boat wasn’t going too well if he’d resorted to calling on Fred again. Paul glanced away, uncomfortably, and then, he seemed to be trying too hard to not look again.
Dance club had finished up, and she was just now gathering up the stereo equipment she always used to play the music they danced to. She didn’t understand Paul’s reaction to her until she remembered what she was wearing.
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