by Lane Hart
“No, just watching the news. How have you been?”
“Keeping busy like usual,” I tell her, stretching my left arm over the back of the couch as I try to get comfortable. “What about you?”
“Same. The advertising industry never takes breaks,” she jokes with a soft laugh. “Have you talked to Sara lately?”
“Yeah, I have. She told me about her new job and sounded pretty excited about it,” I reply.
“I think so, too, unfortunately,” Holly mutters. “I was hoping she would find a position out here before she found one on the East Coast.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. It’s not easy being on the opposite side of the country from her, is it?” I tease.
“This is the punishment I deserve. Not just four years of college but for Sara to decide to live there when I’m here,” she says sadly.
“Maybe she’ll come home one of these days for good,” I offer, even though that means I would see my daughter even less than I do now. “Speaking of Sara coming home, do you know what she’s planning for the holidays?”
“It’s only August, Brody! What’s got you thinking that far out?” Holly inquires, sounding suspicious.
“I was just wondering if she mentioned buying a plane ticket so that I know whether or not to make plans.”
“What sort of plans?” she asks.
“I dunno, I haven’t made any,” I tell her. “Not until I know what Sara wants to do.”
“How are things with you two? Is she still keeping in touch regularly?”
“Yeah, she is, and I’m glad.”
“Good. I’m sorry she’s always been so…combative with you. I guess that’s the word I’m looking for. No matter how many times I’ve told her to blame me for you not seeing her those first few years after we moved, she refuses to make me out as the bad guy.”
“Yep, I’m still the bad guy in her mind,” I mutter. “But things are getting better. It’s just, now I’m afraid of doing something else that will push her away.”
“Like what?” Holly asks.
“I’ve met someone,” I tell her cautiously.
“You have?” she says, the surprise obvious in her voice because she knows I don’t date very often, and haven’t really been serious about anyone since…well, her.
“Yeah, but I’m nervous about telling Sara. How does she handle you dating?”
“Eh, she’s usually ambivalent about the men I see, sort of impolite just for spite.”
“And does that deter you from dating?” I ask.
“No, because if I meet someone I want to be in a serious relationship with, Sara’s a big girl and doesn’t live here anymore, so she would have to accept that.”
“And if she didn’t accept it and refused to see you because of him?”
“I don’t think she would stop coming here just because she doesn’t like the man I’m with,” Holly replies. “Is that what you’re worried about? That she won’t like your new woman and she’ll shut you out?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Brody, you’re a grown man who has been single for a long time. If you’ve met someone, you shouldn’t let the what-ifs stop you from being happy.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re her mother. Sara won’t cut ties with you because you’re the one who raised her,” I remark.
“Maybe it is different for me and you,” Holly agrees. “All you can do is try and see what happens. How bad could it be?”
“She’s Sara’s age,” I blurt out.
“Oh,” Holly murmurs. “So, that means she’s, what? Twenty years younger than you?”
“Uh-huh,” I answer, bracing myself for her disapproval. “And Sara knows her.”
“Oh my God, Brody! Is it one of her friends?”
“Sort of,” I hedge. “But you can’t tell her.”
“I won’t, I’m just…shocked,” Holly says. “And you really care about her?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately. “The only thing holding me back is how Sara will react. But I want to be with her so badly that if we have to hide our relationship from Sara to keep the peace, then I’m ready to do that. Whatever it takes to keep them both.”
“Wow. I can’t say I blame you, though,” Holly remarks, surprising me. “If I could be with a guy twenty years younger than me, I would jump at the chance.” Her response makes me smile.
“So, you don’t think I’m crazy?”
“No. It may be awkward at first for Sara to accept it, but she would probably come around…”
“Probably, but not definitely,” I point out.
“Okay, hiding it from her wouldn’t be a bad idea,” she agrees.
“Well, let’s just hope that Riley agrees to be with me, even if it means occasionally sneaking around.”
“Riley?” Holly repeats. “God, she even sounds young.”
I smile because I know she’s teasing me.
“Do whatever makes you happy, Brody. You deserve nothing less,” she says. And while I didn’t need Holly’s approval, I’m still glad to have it.
If only I had Riley’s decision, then I could finally have her in my arms tonight. Hopefully that will happen soon.
What we have…I just don’t think she can throw it away so easily. Especially not after that kiss this afternoon reminded us both of how scorching hot the attraction is between us.
…
Riley
Unable to sit down while I think through my two options, I pace around the small oceanfront hotel room before stepping out onto the private balcony to call Cheryl.
“Hey, how was the trip down?” she asks.
“The trip was fine and my old Sentra made it, just with no AC the whole way,” I tell her.
“And? How was it to see him again? Have you jumped his bones yet?”
“No!” I tell her. “That’s not why I came down here.”
“Isn’t it?” she asks. “You can say it was for the job and all, but deep down, you went back for Brody.”
“Maybe a little,” I agree. “And I was gonna remain strong, you know, keep things strictly professional, maybe get closure…”
“But?” Cheryl guesses where the conversation is going.
“But then he told me how much he missed me, and that he wants to be with me.”
“Wow. He didn’t waste any time, did he? And what happened to his promise to keep his hands off of you?” she complains in my ear while I try to watch the rhythmic rise and fall of the waves in the ocean. “So…what did you tell him?” she asks when I stay silent.
“I told him I couldn’t go through the whole crash and burn with him again when he refuses to pick me over Sara; that it was too hard the first time and I know he won’t ever make the decision to drive away his daughter. Nor do I want him to do that…”
“Then why do you sound so unsure?” Cheryl prods.
“Because then he came up with this idea of a compromise…”
“A compromise to what?”
“To us actually being together and just hiding it from Sara,” I explain.
“Oooh, sneaky.”
“And it’s crazy for me to think that could ever work, right?” I ask her.
“I dunno. Maybe not,” Cheryl replies, filling up the balloon of hope in my chest with a gust of air. “Sara doesn’t really see him often because she’s still so angry with him. I’m sure she would give him plenty of notice if she plans a visit, so you could get out of dodge until she leaves again, with her none the wiser…”
“So you don’t think this is a crazy idea, or that I’ll end up getting my heart shattered again?”
“I’m not saying that there’s not a possibility of it ending badly, because there are no guarantees with anything, especially this,” she tells me.
“I know that,” I mutter as I step back into the cool air of the hotel room. “And it’s possible that within a week, we could both realize that this is nothing more than great sex and there’s no future for us, not even one that has to be kept a secret.
I just wish there was some way to know how it will go before I make the jump.”
“Well, I don’t have my crystal ball in front of me, so you’ll have to figure it out on your own,” Cheryl teases. “Or ask divine intervention for a sign.”
“Hmm, the divine intervention way sounds easier, so let me see if the Gideons stashed a Bible in my room,” I joke with a smile she can’t see.
Sitting down on the edge of the queen bed, I pull open the top drawer on the bedside table, looking for the Good Book just to snap a photo of it to send to Cheryl for a laugh. Instead, I discover something even better.
“Holy shit!” I exclaim into the phone.
“What?” she asks.
“He’s in my drawer,” I tell her, as I look at the sexy image on the front of a local magazine.
“Who? Jesus?” Cheryl asks.
“No, Brody!” I reach for the magazine with a shaking hand so I can get a better look. “You won’t believe this, Cher, but he’s on the cover of Coastal Leisure issue, in nothing but a fucking towel.”
“What? No way!” she replies with a laugh. “There’s your sign, Riley. Now send me a pic!”
“Okay, hold on,” I tell her as I read the headline. “‘Local photographer strips down to save our shores.’” I flip through the pages, one right after another, to find the main article, and there he is…camera around his neck, wearing a white button-up and gray slacks, leaning his back against the edge of the desk I assume is in the studio, but didn’t see today.
“I’ll call you back,” I tell Cheryl so I can concentrate on the words on the page instead of her rambling in my ear.
There’s an interview with Brody about why he decided to take it all off for the ‘Save Our Shores’ fundraiser. His response is that a friend on the committee convinced him it could raise money and get attention for them, so he agreed and shot the image himself. There’s an online auction for the twenty-four by twenty-six canvas on the charity’s website, and the response has been so overwhelming that he’s now offering three photos instead of just one. The article says he’ll be selling eight by tens at the event in the park next weekend, for five dollars each, and all proceeds go toward protecting sea life and cleaning up the local beaches after hurricanes.
The reporter then asks Brody about his photography, how long he’s been in the business (nine years), his favorite subject (beach and beach life, of course), and how he manages to capture such breathtaking images. I reread his response to that question at least three times.
“Over the years, I’ve learned a little more with each click of the camera, and am constantly looking for ways to improve my work, but someone recently told me that I don’t just capture images, that I put my heart and soul into them. I would like to think that’s true, that I treat each subject like they’re the center of my universe. And they are. When I’m looking through my lens, everything else disappears but my subject, at least for a few seconds.”
He quoted me. He still remembers what I said one night, all those weeks ago.
And if Brody on the magazine in my hotel room wasn’t enough of a sign, I spot another one while I’m looking at the photo of him. There, on the corner of his desk in a frame, is a close-up of a girl. Even from this far away in a picture, I can tell that the girl is definitely not Sara, who has light, sandy blonde hair. I hold the page closer to my face to see it better, wishing I had a magnifying glass. This girl in the photo on his desk has long, nearly black waves, blowing in the wind, the bright pink strings of her bikini showing.
It’s me.
Brody snapped the shot while all the girls and I were on the beach in June. And not only did he take the photo, he printed it and framed it, giving it a place of honor on his desk.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brody
After tossing and turning for over an hour, I haul myself up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, running my fingers through my hair in frustration because I desperately want to know what’s going on in Riley’s head right about now.
Knowing I may as well give up on sleep for the time being, probably for the night, I get up and walk over to slide open the door that leads to the balcony overlooking the ocean.
The moon is high and almost full tonight, reminding me of the first night I kissed Riley.
Below me, the waves crash and then retreat back to the sea, over and over again, but even that soothing repetition won’t be able to ease me into sleep tonight. At least I don’t have to be up early tomorrow. The studio is closed on Saturdays because that’s when I usually schedule my on-site shoots and weddings. Then I take off on Sundays, just for me. Tomorrow, I’m free until the afternoon, when I need to be at the church an hour before the five o’clock ceremony. Now I’m wondering if I’ll be there alone, or if Riley will be with me.
Along the empty beach, I spot a lone figure out walking. It’s not uncommon to see someone on a late-night stroll, but this person wearing white practically glows in the darkness. And it’s damn dark because, other than the moon, it’s lights out for all houses and hotels up and down the coastline. The lights deter female sea turtles from coming up on the shore and laying their nests this time of year.
As the figure comes closer, it becomes obvious that it’s a woman, wearing a dress that billows in the wind. She looks like an angel, wandering the beach sadly in the hopes of finding answers…
“Riley,” I mutter softly in recognition when she comes to a stop in front of the house and looks up at it.
Can she see me up here in the shadows? Probably not, so I go back inside and turn on the light in my bedroom, signaling to her that I’m awake, before I jog down the steps to the beach, wearing nothing but my boxer briefs.
…
Riley
When the light at the top of the house where Brody’s bedroom is suddenly flicks on, I know that he’s not only awake, but he must have spotted me out here.
Hours ago, back at the hotel, I decided to go for a walk on the beach to clear my head after finding that article. It didn’t take long before I knew where my feet were taking me --- right where my heart longed to be.
It took more time than I expected to get here, and I was certain Brody would be in bed asleep by now, but I guess he wasn’t.
Over the winds blowing around me and crashing waves, I hear the sound of his footsteps coming down the creaking wooden stairs. Each step that brings him closer makes me know that this is what I want.
He is who I want to be with.
When he’s right in front of me, I jump into his arms. Brody catches me, lifting me off the ground and kissing me, as I wrap my legs around his waist and bury my fingers in his hair.
“Can I take this as a yes?” he whispers against my lips while his hands on my ass squeeze hard enough to leave bruises.
“Yes,” I answer.
“Thank God. I need you so much,” he tells me as he kisses down my neck, to my chest, swiping his tongue down the line between my cleavage, sending jolts of tingles to my core, reminding me how incredible his mouth feels even lower.
Brody kneels in the sand with me still in his arms. We kiss as he moves backward, with me riding him down to the sand, unable to remove my lips from his.
“I’m starved for you, baby. Let me taste you,” he says between gasps, yanking me up by my hips unexpectedly. I end up straddling his face, my knees in the sand on either side of his head. His strong hands grip the V-neck of my dress and tear it apart, ripping it down the center, while his hot, panting breaths seep through the crotch of my miniscule panties, making me shiver. I may be on top of him but there’s no doubt that Brody’s the one in control. He owns me from the bottom and I’m at his mercy, his to do with as he pleases. God, I’ve missed him.
“Oh, yes!” I moan when his tongue attacks the string of my thong ravenously, trying to get to my flesh. Frustrated with the fabric for impeding his tongue lashing, he reaches up and jerks it to the side, then licks me with the precision of a man who knows my body better than I d
o. With my head thrown back in ecstasy, I grind my pussy on his face with no shame; just urgent, single-minded need for sweet relief. It’s been way too long.
And Brody gives it to me. At least twice, my body convulses above him and I scream his name.
“Now show me how wet you are for me, sweetheart. Pull my cock out and ride it.” He looks up to tell me with an impatient slap to my ass.
Needing to finally feel him inside of me, I squirm on my knees backward until I get to his boxer briefs. Tugging them down, I gasp when his long, thick cock bobs free, looking even bigger in the darkness than I remember, and just as yummy. I can’t resist leaning down for a slow lick. But that’s not enough either, so I wrap my hand around his wide girth and feed his head past my lips and down my throat as far as I can go.
“I’ve missed that mouth,” Brody grumbles. “But right now, I want my pussy where it belongs; where it’s gonna stay for the next few days, until I remind it that I’m the only one it comes for.”
Lifting my head and pulling my mouth off him, I reply, “Yes, sir,” as I line myself up, pulling my thong to the side so I can mount him. I take him one slow inch at a time into me, until I’m so full I can’t breathe, and there’s still more of his cock to take.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Brody groans underneath me as his hands squeeze and fondle both of my breasts.
“It’s been so long…” I say as my body stretches for him.
“How long?” he growls, eyes sparkling in the moonlight, holding mine.
“Seven…eight weeks ago,” I tell him honestly, meaning my last time was with him.
“No,” he replies and I freeze, thinking that he doesn’t believe me. But then he says, “I’ve been in this pussy every night. You just didn’t feel it.”
That makes me smile in relief. “Oh, I felt it.” More relaxed, I lower myself down his shaft, taking the rest of him. “Because I was riding this cock every night when my hand would slip down the front of my panties.”
Brody closes his eyes and groans. His cock twitches inside of me. “God, I’ve missed you,” he says when he opens them again. “Now show me how you rode my dick, and don’t you dare come until I do.”