by Rhonda James
“Yep. That’s definitely an issue.” He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “Come on. Let’s get you packed and out of here before my toes wrinkle up like prunes.” He pretends like he’s about to smack me on the rear, but I squeal like a little girl and run away from him as he chases after me, laughing.
It seems as though my concerns over spending time with him have vanished into thin air. All thanks to a broken water pipe.
CHAPTER 8
SCOTT
“So, just how far is it to Traverse City?” she asks cheerfully.
I tap my thumbs against the steering wheel before turning on the radio. “Roughly five hours, give or take. Might as well make yourself comfortable.”
Taking my advice, she kicks off her sandals and rests the balls of her feet on the dash. Thank God, she decided to leave those rubber boots back at the apartment. I know it might sound crazy, but Skylar in a pair of tight leggings and boots with little yellow ducks… Instant hard-on. If she had worn them, I swear I’d have the worst case of blue balls ever recorded. I jokingly thanked her when she changed out of them, and my dick and balls offered up their own silent vow of gratitude. Still, I can’t help wondering why the hell she packed rubber boots in the first place. Who the hell does that?
“I’m curious about something,” I say slowly. She sneaks a glance in my direction and I take that as my cue to continue. “What are the boots for?”
“Oh,” she laughs, “so we’re back to that, huh? I don’t know. Sam told me it rains a lot up here. I never get the chance to wear them back home, and they really are too cute to keep stashed by the front door.”
You can leave them by my front door and get no complaints from me.
“Sam? Who’s that? Boyfriend?”
“Noooo.” She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Roommate. Sam is short for Samantha.”
“Aha.”
Seeing her shoes off, I sneak a glance in her direction, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the light blue polish on her toenails. It matches the color on her fingers. Ashley used to go have her nails done every two weeks; only when she went, she always came back with some gaudy dark color. The color Skylar chose is light and very simple. Very Skylar. But in all our time together, I can’t recall ever seeing her with painted nails. This looks fresh, like she’s recently had them done.
“So, are mani-pedi’s your thing now? Or did you do all that because you knew you were coming to see me?” It’s shitty of me to call her out, especially when our trip’s just gotten started, but Christ, this may be worse than the damn boot scenario. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop staring at her damn nails. They’re so… Cute. Is that even a way to describe someone’s fingers and toes? No? Fuck it. They’re pretty fucking cute, so that’s what I’m going with. Stupid blue polish with the little baby clouds…
If my question irritates her in any way, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she wiggles her toes and shoots me a killer smile. Fuck. Those dainty blue toes and that tiny gap between her front teeth have my dick straining against the seam of my cargo shorts.
“For your information, I have a standing appointment with my manicurist every other Thursday.” She sticks out her tongue at me, and a dirty comeback is right on the tip of my tongue, but I decide to let it go. This time.
“Standing appointment…” I shake my head, feigning disappointment.
She changes position. Heels pulled tight against her ass. Cheek resting on one knee. Pondering her response.
“I haven’t changed. If that’s what you’re thinking. I may treat myself to salon appointments, fine chocolates, or sheets with high thread count. But I’m still the same girl from Leland High. The same girl whose locker you used to wait by. The same girl you used to…” Her voice drifts, and she gives her head a little shake. “Never mind.”
“Hey, I’m sorry.” I reach across the console and find her hand. “I was only trying to bother you.” A ghost of a smile touches her lips, and I start to relax again. I trace the pad of my thumb over her fingers, pausing when I reach the tip of her index finger. “I like this color. It almost matches your eyes.”
Slowly, she withdraws her hand from my grasp and sits cross-legged in her seat. I fear I may have crossed a line. Touching her that way. It’s just so hard not to touch her. I don’t care how long it’s been; once you’ve shared a special bond with someone, that connection is always a part of you.
“I’m not going to lie to you, Scott. Being with you this way is very reminiscent of days gone by, and because of that, I think we need to be careful this weekend. I could very easily allow myself to be caught up in your spell, and I’m not sure I can survive the aftermath a second time.” She averts her eyes to stare out the window. “The first time was hard enough.”
Guilt slams into me and sits right in the center of my chest. I knew I’d hurt her; I just never realized how badly I’d broken her heart. Looking at her now, I’d give anything to be able to go back and change the course of fate. But as it is, I can’t. The only thing I can do is to try and take the broken pieces and mend them back together. In order to do that, she needs to know the truth about what happened all those years ago.
“Why’d you leave Chicago? Why wouldn’t you answer any of my texts? Christ, Skylar, back then, you wouldn’t even look at me. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I hated myself for what I did to you. What I did to us. I never intended for things to happen the way they did. It’s just, my stupid friends… They badgered me every day. They were relentless. There were so many times when I just wanted to lie and tell them that we’d slept together, but I couldn’t do that to you.” My right hand loosely holds on to the steering wheel, while the other pinches the bridge of my nose as the memories come flooding back. “That day you came to my house had been a really bad day, and just like always, you came in and held me and everything in my world was right again. Then, when you whispered those things in my ear… I was so happy, because I’d wanted you so badly. Fuck. Do you have any idea how crazy you made me? How happy you made me?” Our eyes connect, and I see the tears pooling in hers. “Please don’t cry, baby.” The term of endearment slips out as if I’d never stopped using it.
“You slept with her. You said we needed a break, and then you went and slept with her,” she says through her sniffles.
My face wrinkles in confusion. “What are you talking about? What girl did I sleep with?”
She makes a disgusted sound and rolls her eyes as if I should know. “Rachel Westin.” The name drips off her tongue like battery acid.
Now, it’s my turn to scoff. “Wait? You’re serious? Come on, Sky, you know me. Do you really believe I would do that to you? I just needed some time to think. Not go and fuck other girls. Let alone my ex-girlfriend.”
Fat tears spill down her cheeks.
One. Two. Three.
Three down the left. Three down the right. I know, because instead of watching the road like I should be, I count them. I count them and know that even though I never slept with Rachel Westin after she became my ex, I’m responsible for making Skylar cry.
For her tears.
For her leaving Chicago.
For not standing up and being the man she needed me to be.
For breaking my own goddamn heart.
“I never slept with Rachel after we broke up. In fact, after you left, I didn’t sleep with any other girls. Not until college. It just… It just wouldn’t have felt right. Ya know?” I blow out a heavy sigh and sneak another look at her.
She’s so beautiful. God, I’m such a fucking idiot.
“Six months,” she states softly. Our eyes connect briefly before she turns to focus on something out the window. “That’s how long I waited. Day after day, I held out hope that maybe you’d change your mind. Realize you’d made a mistake. But six months passed, and that call never came. I made the decision to finally let you go. It took a little time, but I started living again. You broke me pretty badly, but I have great friends and they took care
of me. Helped me heal. I started dating again and finished my degree. Landed an amazing job. My life was pretty great until…” Her words taper off, and I’m screaming inside, wanting to hear the rest of her story. But I don’t want to look at her for fear she may stop talking.
“Six months ago, I was online doing research for my job, and I came across a photo of you. A magazine cover of some sort. I saw that photo, and a little piece of me started to wonder what if. What if you’d called me? What if I’d never left Chicago? What if I’d never stopped you that night?”
I drum my thumbs along the edge of the steering wheel. Bile burning the back of my throat, because so many times I’ve asked myself those same questions.
“That’s an awful lot of questions.”
She clears her throat before responding. “I know.”
“Questions I’m not sure I have the answers to. Not right now, anyway.”
Her hand immediately goes to my arm and gives it a firm squeeze. In typical Skylar Dennison fashion, her instinct is to protect me. “Scott, it’s okay. I’m not telling you this because I want to get back with you or because I expect something from you. I guess your honesty just made me think it was time for me to come clean. I think out of everything that happened, I missed our friendship the most. As you may recall, I didn’t have a lot of close friends. But I had you, and truth be told, I probably relied on you a little too much. I figure if we’re going to spend the next two weeks together, we may as well try and put the past behind us and focus on being ourselves while we’re here.”
My grip on the wheel tightens as a low guttural sound vibrates in the back of my throat. “Little hard to put the past behind me when it’s sitting less than two feet away.”
“If you didn’t want me here, then why’d you knock on my door?” She cocks her head and challenges me with an arched brow.
“I don’t know.” I shrug and shift my gaze to hers. “Guess maybe it’s because I like who I am when I’m around you.”
“I like it, too,” she whispers.
CHAPTER 9
SKYLAR
Jordan’s parents have a beautiful home that sits right on Grand Traverse Bay. Despite it already being on the water, they also have a pool in their backyard. Jordan gave me the grand tour yesterday afternoon. Enormous kitchen. Formal living room decorated with expensive paintings and collectible knickknacks. Man cave complete with 60-inch television, pool table, and a bar. Five large bedrooms are split between two levels. When I ask why so many bedrooms, Jordan informs me he has two siblings, both of which are older.
Last night was nice. We spent the evening sitting around a campfire down by the water. Scott’s friends entertained me with stories of how they met and became best friends. I heard all about their time playing hockey at GLU, the university they’d attended, and how it felt to win the championship two years in a row. They laughed, reminiscing about parties thrown at the house they’d all shared. Laney and Cassie sat back and listened, even though they’d probably heard these same stories a few times. I heard mention of a former girlfriend, someone by the name of Ashley, but Scott was quick to change the subject. I got the impression things between them hadn’t ended on the best note, and it left me wondering if bad breakups were a pattern of his?
Now, I’m lying on a chaise lounge positioned a few feet away from the lake, snapping one photo after the other. The sun is shining, and the girls have joined me. Drinks in hand. Sunscreen slathered on. We lie here and watch the show out on the water.
A short time ago, the guys jumped in the boat and drove off. Chanting something about the need for speed and doing something manly. Cassie goes on to inform me they are merely going waterskiing. I watch with great interest, shielding my eyes to get a better view. With my prescription sunglasses, I have a clear image of their boat and the bodies inside. So far, I like what I’m seeing.
“He looks good out there.” I nudge Cassie and angle my head toward the water, where Brantley is putting on quite the show. “He’s got some impressive moves.”
“Ugh! I swear, I don’t think there’s anything that man can’t do. You should see him in a pair of skates on the ice.” She gets this dreamy look on her face.
“It really is a thing of beauty,” Laney chimes in.
“I’ll admit I may have watched some footage of their games that first night I arrived in Detroit. A man who moves that confidently on the ice must be confident in other areas as well.” I smirk.
“You’ll get no complaints from me.” Cassie smiles like the cat that ate the canary before taking pity on me and giving me a few details. “Okay, I’m not usually one to kiss and tell, but there is this one thing he does that makes me weak in the knees.”
I rest my chin on my palm and listen as she divulges a few details of her sex life with the raven-haired sexual powerhouse that is Brantley Cage. By the time she’s finished describing ‘the move,’ I’ll admit I’m a little damp between my legs, and when I look back out at the man being pulled behind the speedboat, I have a new appreciation for the male form.
After a few moments of appreciative silence, I decide to prod Cassie for some inside information on Scott.
“So, what’s he been up to all these years, besides hockey? I mean, have there been any serious relationships?” I’m curious to know and want to hear that he’s been happy, but I secretly hope her answer is no.
“Well, there was one girl, Ashley, who was really sweet at first, but then things got weird between them. They dated for nearly two years before he broke it off.”
“Wow, two years? That’s a long time…” My voice trails off. “Was he in love with her?”
“I believe he was, to an extent. Look, I’m not going to lie. Scott changed after you left Chicago. Truth be told, he’d changed even before that. But after you left, he became more and more distant. It’s just a guess, but I think he regretted letting you go, and he felt guilty. I don’t know. He never told me what happened between you two, but you know how the rumor mill worked at Leland. I heard enough to put a few pieces together and come up with my own assumptions.” She smiles sadly. “I hated all of it. Hated those asshole friends of his. Hated him for not being man enough to shut them up. Hated you for running away and not fighting for him. I missed you, and I think he did, too, but he didn’t know how to fix it, so he let it eat away at him instead.”
Her words hit me, and for the first time, I look at all of this with a new set of eyes. All this time, I’ve been so focused on how his actions affected me. I never once stopped to consider how my knee-jerk reaction had affected him. I’d broken him, too.
My voice shakes when I ask my next question. “Why do you think he broke up with Ashley?”
“Honestly?” Our eyes meet briefly, and I can only nod. “I don’t think he ever got over you,” she whispers, and we continue watching the guys in silence.
When it is Scott’s turn to ski, I find myself mesmerized by the muscles rippling in his back. I’ve always found Scott to be incredibly good-looking, but time has only made him sexier in my eyes. Having him in a pair of swim trunks affords me the perfect opportunity to soak up every last detail. And being this far away allows me to do it without his knowledge, which seems to embolden me. I stare unabashedly and find that I like everything I’m seeing.
There’s a large tattoo running down his left side; it looks dark and mysterious, and before long, I find myself longing to touch it. Touch it with the tips of my fingers. Run the flat of my tongue over it on my way to other places… His six-pack abs ripple as he hits wave after wave and swerves from side to side like a pro on his skis. Cassie’s last words hang deliciously in the air, and I find that I can’t bring myself to look away, nor do I want to. Geez, Skylar. Get a grip and just breathe. I know what it is. It’s just been a long time since I’ve had sex. Good sex. Panty-ripping. Heart-pounding. Earth-shattering. Hot-as-hell sex. Shaking my head to clear the image of Scott Rivers naked and wet beneath me as my hips gyrate over his hard body, I look up to find the gu
ys have returned to shore and Scott is walking straight toward me.
I bring the camera to my eye and snap at least ten pictures before lowering it back to my lap.
Flashing me a sexy smirk, he stops in front of me and runs a hand through his wet hair. “Let me guess, for posterity’s sake, right?”
I give a non-committal shrug of my shoulders. “Nope. That was for my spank bank.”
The look on his face is priceless, because I know he wasn’t expecting me to say something so crass. His shock turns into laughter as he grabs the towel behind my head and drapes it over his broad shoulders. “Skylar Dennison, whatever am I going to do with you?”
“Whatever you want to do,” I murmur to his retreating form. I can’t help but stare as he walks away. Don’t judge. Trust me. You’d be staring, too.
By the way, have I mentioned that he’s soaking wet?
***
I’m still sitting by the water long after Scott went inside the house. I watched him walk away. Wet and hard. Hung. God, he’s SO hung… The way his suit clung to his body, leaving nothing to the imagination as he strolled by, throwing me a cheeky wink because, despite the dark sunglasses I’m hiding behind, he knew where my eyes were glued. It was all I could do to not chase after him and beg him to take me against the door.
Now that Cassie has planted the seed, I can’t stop wondering if maybe he still wants me. What if we’re both thinking the same thing, but we’re both too afraid to admit it? Is it crazy to think that maybe, just maybe, we could treat these two weeks as a free pass? A second chance to finish what we started all those years ago? No strings. No commitments. No promises.
The guys convince Laney and Cassie to join them in the boat for a tour of the bay. They try to tempt me, but I wave them off, needing some time to myself to figure some shit out. It’s not long after they pull away that I find myself moving on autopilot, and before I know it, I’m standing in the hallway outside the room where Scott is staying.