by Rachael Wade
The sun was going down and storm clouds were looming as I pulled up to Whitney’s place. I sat in the car in silence, staring at the steering wheel, rehearsing in my mind everything I wanted to say. I knew there was a good chance that the second I stepped through her door, I’d forget everything and my words would be rubbish, but it was worth a shot. My gaze lifted and settled on the main road. Pelicans flew over a row of palm trees, fading to graceful blurs as they disappeared into the sinking sun. I gave myself one last mental pep talk before getting out and walking to her door, thunder rolling in the distance as I knocked.
No answer.
I checked my watch, knowing she should be home right now. I’d called the diner to make sure she wasn’t working that night, and her car was parked in the lot, just two spaces down from mine. “Whit?” I called out, giving the door another knock. I heard some laughter, and then the low sound of some bass. Moving my ear to the door, I listened hard.
Music. The Red Hot Chili Peppers. “Otherside,” to be exact.
I hesitantly tried turning the knob, thankfully finding it unlocked. The music surrounded me, mixed with more laughter. I walked to the kitchen, my feet stuck like cement at the sight: Whitney, on the floor, scrubbing the tile in her maid uniform.
Sweet Jesus, there was a God.
Her skirt was hiked to high heaven, the curves of her ass in clear view. She bobbed her head while she sang, her hips rocking from side to side. She wasn’t fooling around with that floor. Her thin, determined hands were scrubbing away, stopping occasionally to dip the brush in a bucket of soapy water.
Stepping in further to see around the counter, I spotted Emma next to her, scrubbing and looking tipsy. She was singing, too, laughing every few seconds like she was entertained by her own performance.
I finally spoke up, realizing I should put a stop to the whole stalking creeper thing. “Hey,” I said, startling them both. Emma fell back on her butt, dropping her scrub brush, and Whitney toppled over to the side.
“Carter?” she asked, wobbling to her feet. “What are you doing here?”
“Oops, looks like I need another shot!” Emma jumped to her feet and weaved around us, taking the bottle of tequila with her.
“Emma!” Whitney hissed, glowering at her friend.
“I’ll be in the bedroom. Good luck, Carter!” Emma wiggled her fingers in the air and smiled at me before disappearing down the hall. Whitney’s glare followed Emma like daggers, but it did no good. She was stuck with me, and she knew it.
“Hey,” she said weakly, turning to bring the radio volume down.
“About the other night…”
“We don’t have to do this, Carter. You had every right to be angry with me, and I get it. You’re done. Look, you clearly still have hang-ups, and I do, too, so maybe it’s just not a good time for us to be doing…whatever we’re doing.”
I itched for a smoke, but I didn’t reach for one, instead locking my gaze on her sweaty, flushed skin. The scene I’d walked in on was enough to bring my cock to full attention, and the way her forehead and chest were damp and glistening wasn’t helping.
I brushed my lip ring and focused.
“Whatever we’re doing?” I said. “Whitney, you love me. I love you. Don’t minimize what we have, here. You messed up, going to see Ruben. I messed up, too. I’m sorry I overreacted and fought with Ruben like that, I was just so pissed hearing him gloat. I’ve never hit anyone in my life, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel damn good. I’d do it again, to be honest.”
Her tired, resigned expression slowly unraveled. “Okay…”
“I’m here because I want to be here. I’m here because you’re mine and you belong with me. You woke me up in ways I didn’t even realize I needed to be awakened, Whitney. I mean, I knew I needed something…something to feel alive, to feel like I was moving forward with something good in my life. But you, you came along and hit me with a fucking jolt. Like lightning. I’m here to tell you that I’m a new man because of you—I’d like to think a better one. I just bought Joe on the Go, Whit. I’m going to turn it into a mobile music school. It’s going to be amazing and I have you to thank for it.”
“You what? You’re saying you—”
“I’m moving on,” I said, pulling the truck key from my pocket. “I can’t officially sign the title and take ownership until after the New Year. I promised my boss I’d stick around for a while. It buys me some time to put plans for the new business together. But it’s happening, Whit. I’m gonna start my own business. It will give me the freedom to travel around the island and bring music to my students, but I can always fly back home to you. Libertas. I wanna be with you. So, can we move past all this shit? Because I don’t wanna waste another second my lips could be on yours.”
She blinked, not moving a muscle. Silence passed between us, the air between her body and mine suffocating. I needed to close the space.
Stepping forward, I stared down at her, waiting. “Whit?” She was all kinds of conflicted. I could see it in those pretty green eyes. There was confusion, longing, and something much deeper.
Hurt.
“I…” she stuttered, eyes dodging mine, “I know what you did.”
“What?”
“With the girl. From Pete’s bar.”
“Whitney, it’s not what you think—”
“No,” she raised her hand, “I don’t think I can handle knowing that after…everything. I know I hurt your trust when I didn’t tell you that I went to Ruben’s that night, but I never went over there to sleep with him, or even because I trusted him more than you. You had my heart.”
“And you had mine.” I inched forward. “Still do.”
“You broke mine,” she whispered. Her jaw clenched and her chin dropped. I couldn’t stand to see her unable to look at me.
“Whitney,” I said firmly, lifting her chin, “nothing happened with that girl. I didn’t sleep with her. I don’t know what you heard, but I never touched her.”
“Word at Pete’s was you went home with her that night.”
“I did.” I swallowed hard, trying to think fast. “I had too much to drink. But nothing happened. She thought I was gay because I wasn’t interested. I didn’t even kiss her.”
Her wary green eyes floated back up to meet my stern gaze, searching and testing. “You mean…”
“The whole situation was quite mortifying, actually. Although, maybe more so for her than for me. Not one of my proudest moments, I assure you.” I scratched my temple, giving her a wry grin.
“Seriously?” she asked, a ghost of a smile teasing her lips.
“Oh, yeah. It was one for the books.”
Whitney snorted, her shoulders relaxing. “Wow. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”
“Tell me you’ll be my date to Kate’s wedding.”
“What? Carter, I don’t know.”
“I already told her you’re coming. So you have to say yes. And you need to come for a walk on the beach with me.”
“Wait, you did what? I can’t go anywhere with you right now. Emma’s here and I’m in the middle of cleaning.” She swung around and gestured to the bucket and brushes on the kitchen floor.
“Emma’s having a party with her good friend, tequila.” I nodded to the bedroom hallway. “Come on.” I reached for her hand and tugged her toward the door. “I won’t keep you long, unless you want me to.” My eyebrows wiggled and my other hand instantly fell to the small of her back to lead her forward.
“I’ve had tequila too, you know.” She stuck her tongue out at me but complied, letting me steer her toward the front door. “Shame on you for taking advantage of a liquored-up woman in a French maid uniform.”
“I wouldn’t want my woman any other way.” I gave her a cheeky grin, opening the door with a bow. “After you, Madam.”
“Oh boy…”
More thunder rolled as we stepped outside, lightning splintering in the distance like hypnotic, dancing spider webs, its blue hues cracking in al
l different directions. Rain began to pour down in heavy sheets. Whitney shrieked and ducked back underneath the apartment building’s awning.
“Oh no, you don’t.” I laced my fingers with hers and gripped hard, sweeping her out into the rain.
She recoiled, bouncing back like a snake. “Carter! What are you doing?”
“Pulling a Whitney.”
“Pulling a me?”
“Yup, this is definitely pulling a you.”
“I never dragged you out into the pouring rain!”
“No, but you dragged me to get a piercing. You dragged me to the closest thing to Greece in Southwest Florida during a perfectly good dinner. Let’s see.” I led her farther out, tearing my glasses off so I could see her through the downpour. “You also dragged me onto a stage for the first time since I moved here, and towed me all over the beach, forcing me to dance with you. Come to think of it, I can rattle off many examples of when you dragged me into something.”
“Do you have a point, Montgomery?”
“Yup.”
“Are you going to make it?”
Before she could give me any more lip, I gave her mine. My hands encased her against me, my mouth covering hers. We hadn’t even made it out of the parking lot, but I didn’t care. We were being soaked to the bone, the rain saturating our clothing until it weighed heavy and cold on our skin. Whitney responded by pulling me closer, drinking me in, her tongue stroking mine with deliberate, steady strokes.
“My point,” I breathed, pulling back, “is that it’s my turn to tell you want I want. And right now, I want to be in the rain with your body pressed to mine, and I want to hear you say the words.”
“What words?” She asked coyly, her eyes drifting shut, her mouth seeking another kiss.
“That you love me. That you’re mine.”
“Fine. You want me to say those things?” She caught my bottom lip with her teeth, sliding a hand down over the seam of my fly. Her fingers gripped me hard through my jeans, right there in the middle of the parking lot.
I tilted my hips into her touch. “I knew you were made for me.”
“If you really want me to say the words, you know you’re not getting off that easily. You’re going to have to work for it.” Quickly slipping out of my grasp, she darted away, sprinting through the rain toward the main road. I knew just where she was headed.
The beach.
Nothing but sand and rain, where a blanket of darkness infused with sharp, awe-inspiring strikes of lighting dominated it all. Once again, Whitney Sinclair had the upper hand. She was leading, and I was doing the chasing.
“Come and get me, Montgomery!” she shouted into the night, puddles splashing as she ran.
I jogged after her, letting her get a good head start, because let’s face it…I liked chasing her. I didn’t need to have the upper hand with Whitney. I needed no convincing of my place in the world or a reminder that I was strong enough to navigate my way in it. Not anymore. Not when I was with her.
And when I was with her, I was anything but invisible.
Epilogue
Seven years later
Christmas with the Campbells
“Elizabeth Kathryn Montgomery! Get your little butt down here, right now!” I hollered down the hall, knowing full well she could hear me. She was a lot like her mother—spirited and independent. But also a lot like me, when she wanted to be—immersed in her own little world and completely avoidant when it came to any confrontation with Mommy or Daddy.
“Can’t, Daddy!” she called back. “I’m stuck.”
“What?” I mumbled, bustling down the hallway toward her room. “What do you mean, stuck?” I rushed into the bedroom, glancing at my watch. We only had 30 minutes to make it to the airport. I tripped before I made it very far. There were toys strewn across the room, from the doorway to the blanket tent we’d built the other night, where Elizabeth was now seated. She poked her head out, her bright green eyes finding mine, her cute button nose wrinkling with mischief. “Sitting inside your tent doesn’t look stuck to me, kiddo.”
Her conniving smile disappeared, replaced with a sulk. Bloody hell, that sulk always did me in. Every damn time. Why did I have to knock Whitney up with the world’s cutest kid? I know every parent in the universe declares their kid as the cutest, but seriously? This child gave yellow lab retriever puppies, bunnies, and fuzzy baby chicks a run for their money.
“I don’t wanna go on the airplane,” she pouted, wiping at her eyes. Oh damn it all, was she pulling out the tears, too?
I was doomed.
“Hey, hey, now.” I stepped over the piles of toys to crawl into the tent with her, lifting her into my lap. She was a tiny little thing, even for a 5-year-old. Just like her mom, she was petite and raven haired, destined to be a heart breaker when she grew up.
I so didn’t even want to think about that.
“You remember last year, when we got on the airplane and you, me, and Mommy went to England together for Daddy’s birthday?”
“Yes,” she whined.
“Well, do you remember how fun that was? This is going to be fun, too.”
Her sparkling jade eyes rolled upward to meet my face, her bottom lip plump and puffed out. “Do you promise?”
“I promise, Baby Girl. You’re going to see Aunt Kate and Uncle Ryan, and guess who else?”
“Who?”
“Uncle Jack and Aunt Emma. I know you miss them, too.”
“What about Uncle Dean?”
“Of course, Uncle Dean will be there, too. And Aunt Crystal baked you Christmas cookies. You need to help her give them to Santa. You don’t want to leave Santa hungry on Christmas, do you?”
She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I don’t wanna do that.”
“That’s my girl. Now, look, when we get back from Seattle, you’re going to clean this room, do you hear me? This mess isn’t gonna fly.”
“Mommy can clean it. She loves to clean.”
“Yes she does but oh no, you don’t. This is your room, it’s your responsibility. Mommy isn’t the maid around here.”
“She is too a maid!”
“Was a maid, many years ago, yep.”
“Not was! She has the uniform. I saw it on the floor the other day, Daddy!”
Why yes, yes she did. After Mommy had worn it for me in the bedroom and I’d torn it from her body. Keeping the uniform around long after she quit working at the resort had its benefits.
But our little angel didn’t need to know that.
“That’s only for Mommy to play dress up. She doesn’t actually work as a maid anymore. Now come on,” I said, moving her from my lap, “up you go. We have to pick Mommy up from the shop and get to the airport or we’ll miss our plane.” I crouched and stepped out of the tent, taking her hand in mine.
Something I said must’ve appeased her, because she finally gave up on being stubborn and fussy and decided to follow me to the car. I made sure all of our suitcases were tucked in the trunk and then hit the road, smiling at my munchkin in the rearview mirror. I couldn’t help but stare sometimes. She was my little surprise. Not just because Whitney’s pregnancy was unplanned, but because I had never seen myself as a father. I always thought kids were great, but being a dad just wasn’t something on my radar.
I swerved and Elizabeth squealed, laughing as if I was the most hilarious thing on Earth. “What are you doin’, Daddy?”
My gaze jumped back to the road but I deliberately gave the steering wheel another gentle jolt, glancing in the rearview mirror just to catch a glimpse of her smile again. She giggled and looked out the window, watching the miles of white, sandy beach pass us by.
A few minutes later we were pulling up to Whitney’s bookshop. The cottage-style bookstore sat nestled around the corner from the lighthouse, the same store that had always been there, only now Whitney was the proud owner. When she wasn’t busy caring for Elizabeth, she was at this store. It was her second home, her pride and joy.
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“Hey sweetheart, you ready?” I walked in to collect her for the airport, Elizabeth in hand. The door bells jingled and I surveyed the shop. It was closing time and thankfully empty, but Whitney looked far from ready to close. She was behind the counter, eating a croissant and thumbing through a stack of paperbacks, her hair pinned neatly in a soft bun, high on top of her head.
“Mmm,” she mumbled with a full mouth, flitting her fingers at me and keeping her eyes on the stack of books.
“We have fifteen minutes, Whit, or we’re going to miss our flight.”
“I know, I know,” she groaned, swallowing a big bite of croissant. “Sorry!” She slapped one the books closed and shoved the stack to the side of the register, moving to undo her bun. She let her long hair fall down in shiny waves and shook it out before grabbing her purse and rushing to meet us at the front door.
I was glued to the wood floors.
Whitney had always been beautiful. She’d always had that light, that life in her eyes that pulled me right in. But there was something about that dark, long mane of hers. When she wore it down, freed it from its updo, her glow intensified. Her whole body relaxed and her eyes would drift shut, as if savoring the release. It was such a small thing, but it turned me on like nothing else.
“Carter?” She was standing in front of me now, her expectant expression breaking me from a trance.
“Oh, yeah,” I muttered, leaning in to kiss her, “sorry.”
Her lips melted onto mine and left far too soon. She bent down to pick up Elizabeth. “Hey sweets, you ready to have some fun?”
“I guess so,” Elizabeth shrugged, her lips puckering into that pout that I loved so much. “Daddy said it will be like England.”
“Ha!” Whitney carefully set her down and began locking up the shop door. The sun was beginning to set, the lush surrounding palms swaying in the Gulf winds. They were always especially brisk and sharp during the winter. “Seattle’s not like England, silly girl. You know that. But your daddy’s right. We’re going to have lots of fun, just like we did in England.”
“Okay, I have to get you women moving, or that fun isn’t going to happen. Chop chop!” As soon as the shop door was locked, I took Whitney’s hand and hurried them both to the car.