by Emily Bishop
“Then who am I gaining as a brother-in-law?” Drew asked, looking thoroughly confused.
“No one,” I said. “My mom had this theory about the universe, and my dad thinks that I’m in love with Shane. I’ll let him catch you up. I need to take a walk. Clear my head.”
“You are in love with him, Fee. I could’ve told you that much.” Drew smirked, then his expression turned worried. “That was never the problem though, was it?”
“Nope, I guess not. Looks like everyone knows what I feel but me.” I sighed.
“There’s a difference between not knowing and not wanting to admit it to yourself,” Drew said, showing one of his rare bits of true insight.
I bit back the urge to throw a pillow at him, too, and ducked out instead, waving to the only two men who were constant in my life.
Once I was outside, I decided to take the long way home, the way that conveniently passed the house where Shane had been staying while he’d been in town. I just felt like being close to him right now, and his house was the best I could do, even if he wasn’t there.
I fished my phone out of my bag, trying to call him when I neared the place. I’d never been there but I had a rough idea of where it was. Instead of reaching him, I was redirected to his super-professional, work voicemail.
For what felt like the hundredth time that day, the reality that Shane was back in Texas and wasn’t coming back for me slapped me across the face like a cold, smelly fish.
Reality sucked. I didn’t leave a message.
I didn’t know why I wanted to walk miles out of my way to Shane’s house, only maybe that it was time to say goodbye to the idea that we could have been together.
Whatever it was, I turned the corner to where I thought the house was situated and saw a familiar truck parked in the driveway. My heart leaped and started pounding in my chest, like there was a magnet pulling it toward its mate.
Then I remembered that you couldn’t take a truck on a plane. It was probably just a truck that came with the house. I’d watched a reality show once, where some multi-millionaire had garages full of cars at each one of his six vacation homes.
Shane was a billionaire. It figured that he would have at least a truck to leave behind in Connecticut.
When the house came into full view, I was surprised that there wasn’t something fancier than a truck outside of it. It was a huge two-story house, with a lush, sprawling front yard.
My heart sank when I realized that, other than the truck, there were no signs of life. There was a reasonable explanation for the truck being there, and it didn’t include Shane having come back. I had no choice but to face reality. Again. It really was a bitch.
I looped around the house, deciding that I wanted to see if I could find the boat he had been working on. Maybe I could finish it for him sometime, as kind of a surprise for when, or if, he returned. And I’d be sure to use the proper materials.
At first, when I saw the well-sculpted, golden-skinned back hunched over a workbench, I thought that my eyes were playing tricks on me.
Shane turned around slowly, and sure enough, there he was working on his Nymph.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Shane
I was so close to finishing the boat, I could practically feel the wind in my hair as I took her out on the water for the first time. I got home earlier that day and immediately went to the hardware store but neither Fiona nor Drew were there.
The owner told me that they had Mondays off, which I’d actually known, since it had been a Monday morning when Fiona and I wound up fishing together. But I hadn’t put two and two together in my excitement to see her.
My next stop was her house but she wasn’t there, either. Logically, I knew that she was either fishing or at her father’s but I drove past the slip and she wasn’t there. And I wasn’t about to go knocking on Randy’s door.
I was disappointed that I hadn’t been able to find her and surprise her with the fact that I was back, but I thought I would finish the boat that morning and then go find her later on so that she could share its maiden voyage with me. Hopefully.
Never in a million years did I think, when I heard the slight rustle of leaves in my backyard, that I’d turn to find her there, staring at me as if she was torn between jumping into my arms or poking me to see if I was really there, too.
The corners of my mouth turned up into a wide grin. The relief coursing through me at the sight of her was nearly painful. I opened my arms and, as if someone had pulled the trigger on a starting pistol, she shot straight into them, laughing as she climbed up me.
Fiona wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips and hung on. Her laughter turned into a relieved kind of sobbing. She felt like heaven in my arms. Her soft skin melted into mine, and her intoxicating scent enveloped me.
“You’re really here,” she sobbed, running her hands up and down my back.
I tightened my hold on her, never wanting to let her go. “I am.”
“I didn’t think you were coming back.”
I shouldn’t have but I didn’t tell her that.
“I couldn’t stay away,” I admitted. I was done lying to her.
“What about the company?” she asked, planting soft kisses on the underside of my jaw and over my neck and shoulders.
“What about it?”
It was madness really, what I’d done. I left Houston on a whim, without the permission of the board and days after firing the only person who had a hope in hell of doing my job half-right.
“I don’t care anymore,” I said. “I made my choice.”
“What?” She released her grip on me, and I unwillingly let her slide back to her feet. Her eyes were wider than saucers, burning like sapphires as she cupped my face between her hands. “What did you do?”
“I know it’s a shock. I’m kind of shocked, too, but I’m also grateful.” I let my hands fall to her hips, my fingers digging into her skin as if I was the one who was unsure if she was real. “I was sleepwalking through life before I met you, Fiona. Like some billionaire zombie, ravaging everything in my path.”
She blinked away happy tears. Or at least, I fucking hoped that was what they were.
“You’re too hot to be a zombie,” she said.
Just like that, the ice was broken, and we both burst out laughing. I pulled her in for another hug, relishing every second that I had with her. And if I was being honest with myself, just so that I could touch her for a little while longer.
When she eventually wriggled her way out of my grasp, she eyed my boat, grabbed my hand, and dragged me toward it.
“I’m just about done,” I said. “I was getting ready to get this baby out on the water. Would you care to join me?” I extended my hand and dropped into a deep bow.
Fiona hooted with laughter at my playfulness. “Sure. Where did you have in mind to christen her?”
It was my turn to laugh when Fiona blushed, clearly realizing the double entendre of her question. “I’m not picky.”
She swatted my arm, groaning. “I didn’t mean it that way, and you know it.”
I smirked. “Yeah, right. Keep it in your pants, Fiona. Jeez.”
She slapped my arm harder but her eyes twinkled with laughter. “Keep it up, Shane, and I just might.”
I raised my hands in mock surrender. “I take it back. I take it all back.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
“So, where do you think is the best place to take the Nymph out?”
She shook her head at me and narrowed her eyes in mock displeasure. “Now he asks for my advice? Are you asking just so that you can ignore it?”
I shrugged. “We’ll see. How about I load her up and you file our float plan? That way, we have to go wherever you think is best.”
A float plan was similar to a flight plan filed by pilots, only it wasn’t filed with the authorities, and usually involved telling a friend or relative where you were planning on going out to. In Mystic, yo
u could file a float plan with the marina.
We worked well as a team. Before we knew it, we were dragging my new creation out into water, and off we went. I kept the boat parallel to the shoreline, and we wound our way into one of the inlets branching off from the bay.
Out here, we were almost all alone. The only other boat nearby was a plucky little speed boat towing a water skier behind it. But even the drone of that engine didn’t ruin the peaceful surroundings.
Trees hugged the coastline, jutting from the sandy soil like silent spectators. Birds flew lazily overhead, searching for their next meal. The bright green water rocked the boat gently, stirred up by the speed boat’s wake.
I started noticing water seeping in from somewhere. Fiona spotted it at the same time that I did.
“I told you that glue wouldn’t hold,” she said.
“It’s not the glue. There’s something else wrong.” I pointed to the spot where the water was mainly leaking in. There was no join at it.
“What’re you insinuating?” she snapped, nostrils flaring with annoyance.
“We’re swamping,” I said. “Let’s argue about this when we get back to shore, okay?”
“Fine,” she agreed.
She reached for the emergency kit and pulled out a patch kit. We leaned over the leaky spot and tried to close it up.
I didn’t notice the speed boat’s engine getting louder. I didn’t think about it at all until our boat was struck by the errant wake from the speed boat.
The Nymph tipped sideways. I shifted my weight in the opposite direction, trying to keep the light craft balanced. Fiona’s hands were full with the patching kit, and she wasn’t able to grab hold of anything to steady herself.
Then the second wave from the speed boat’s wake crashed into us. Fiona toppled overboard seconds before the small boat capsized.
There was a faint thump, barely audible over the roar in my ears as I went under. Instinctively, I knew that the boat had hit Fiona. Or something on it had hit her. That sound was not a good thing, and since I was uninjured, it had to be her.
Panic seized my heart, almost causing me to freeze up. But I forced my limbs into motion and started swimming vigorously for the surface. I could only just see Fiona’s legs from where she was floating under the capsized boat, completely motionless.
Black blurred at the edges of my vision, and my stomach rolled. It felt like someone was poking a thousand needles into a voodoo doll of my body, mainly centered around my heart. I broke through the surface and gulped in deep, gasping breaths.
But I didn’t have time to catch my breath. I swam harder than I ever had before in the direction of Fiona and the capsized boat.
It felt like the oxygen I was sucking in wasn’t reaching my lungs. I sputtered as I breathed in water, too scared to stop for so much as a second to think about what I was doing.
When I finally reached the boat, I ducked under the edge of it, plunging my head back into the water. I resurfaced beneath the boat, next to where Fiona was floating. The overturned boat had created an air pocket where we’d been sitting just seconds ago. I nearly fainted with relief when I saw that, miraculously, Fiona was facing up.
Her breathing came in shallow gasps, but she was breathing. With pure brute strength and adrenaline, I managed to get the boat off her and cupped her chin to secure her airway. Then I started towing her toward the shore.
Mercifully, we weren’t too far out. The water was still choppy from the speed boat’s wake but the boat itself was long gone. My only choice was to get Fiona back to land.
I held her secure against my body with one arm. With the other, I paddled awkwardly toward shore. Every one-armed stroke forced my head underwater but at least I was able to keep Fiona above the surface. Every time I came up for air, I gasped for breath.
Adrenaline pumped through my veins, but my muscles burned in agony with every desperate stroke toward land. My lungs felt smaller. Every breath I took wasn’t enough to fuel my body.
I focused on Fiona. If I could just be strong for her, I could keep her safe. Just one more stroke, I promised myself when it felt like my limbs were failing. Just one more stroke. And now one more.
I didn’t know how many strokes it finally took, but my kicking feet struck sandy soil beneath me. We made it.
With the last of my strength, I heaved Fiona out of the water and up onto the narrow strip of beach. I collapsed beside her with my face in the gritty sand. I sucked in deep, desperate breaths, trying to still my jackhammering heart.
After an eternity, I was finally able to move. I gently cradled Fiona in my arms and walked her farther up the beach before setting her down and counting out her pulse. I thanked every god that had ever been prayed to that I’d taken a first aid course and had learned a couple of water rescue tricks at a convention for small boating enthusiasts a few years earlier.
I located her breastbone, tilted her head, and pressed my lips to hers to resuscitate her. After a few breaths, she sputtered. I turned her on her side in case there was any water in her lungs. As soon as I was sure that there wasn’t, I sank down onto the sand and pulled her onto my lap, breathing her in and tightening my arms around her.
She shook like a leaf. There was terror in her eyes when she looked up at me. “Where’s the boat?”
That’s her first question?
“Fuck the boat. We need to get you to a hospital.”
“I don’t need a hospital,” she rasped. “I’m fine. I just got knocked out for a minute. Just lying here in the sun is helping.”
“You could have a concussion, Fiona.” It didn’t look like it, judging by her pupils, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
“I don’t. The boat hit me in the chest and knocked the air out of me. I just need to catch my breath. Would you lie with me for a minute?”
I didn’t have it in me to argue with her, but I watched her very closely and monitored her breathing when she lapsed off to sleep in my arms.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fiona
I came to, feeling warm and dry as I stretched my limbs gingerly. I was crusted with sand and salt but, otherwise, I felt much better.
Cracking open an eye, I surveyed my surroundings. We were still on the beach, with Shane propped up on one elbow next to me, watching me closely. There was no one around as far as the eye could see.
I felt his skin burning into mine and realized that we were both naked and wrapped in a blanket. His arm was draped over my stomach, and I suddenly felt even warmer. Heat spread from every inch of contact between us and lit a fire in my core.
“How are you feeling?” His eyes were as dark and deep as the water that had almost killed us. And they were tight with concern.
“Better.”
My teeth sank into my lower lip, and desire tingled over me. I stared up at his chiseled jaw and the stubble growing there, imagining the feel of it between my thighs. I was sure that I shouldn’t be thinking about that, given our earlier experience, but I felt fine and couldn’t help myself.
My heart swelled as I drank in the full effect of him in the fading sunlight. Shane’s muscles stood out in hard lines. His chestnut hair stood up in messy spikes, and he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world, the only thing in existence. As if everything else had faded for him, and he could only see me.
He brought up a hand to trace my cheek and jawline, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my lips. It was over before it even really began, succeeding only in increasing my hunger for him and letting loose the butterflies in my stomach.
He chuckled softly. “Only you would be thinking about that right now.”
I flushed. I swear it was like he could read my damned mind. “What? It’s not only me. I wasn’t naked when I fell asleep. Which brings me to my next question: Why are we naked?”
“Are you objecting?” He arched an eyebrow and flashed me a knowing smirk as he brushed the back of his hand across my hardened nipple on his way back to its r
esting place on my stomach. I sucked in a deep breath, electrified by that one, tiny touch.
“Never,” I gasped. “But why?”
“I had to get us out of our wet clothes so that you could dry off.” The lust that had been creeping into his eyes by our easy banter flickered out, completely replaced by concern.
“What have you been doing all the time I was out?” I wanted to get him to say whatever he wanted to before doing my best to bring the lusty, passionate look back.
“Watching you rest,” he said simply. “You’re beautiful. I thought I should tell you again.”
I swore I could feel my heart fluttering at his words, no matter how many times he said them. “So are you.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his eyes running over every inch of me. It was more like he was checking me for injuries than checking me out but it made me feel hot all over.
“I’m sure,” I said.
I placed my hand on his and guided it slowly down my stomach and between my legs.
Shane groaned when he found me swollen and ready. “God, Fiona, how are you this wet?”
“You touched me,” I breathed, feeling him lengthening and hardening against my thigh.
“Barely,” he said.
He slid his fingers into my slit, his breathing growing heavy as he rubbed up and down. I couldn’t believe how much better it felt when he did it. My eyes fluttered closed as spasms of pleasure rolled through me from his simple touch.
I swallowed a low moan and repeated his earlier words back to him. “Are you objecting?”
“Never,” he groaned, lowering his lips to mine and kissing me breathless. His fingers pushed into my hot center, fucking me slowly, leisurely.
He increased his pace at exactly the right time, reading my body and its needs like the open book it seemed to be. I writhed underneath his touch, arching into him, desperate for every bit of sensation I could get from him.
Shane dragged the rough pad of his thumb over my most sensitive bundle of nerves, and I cried out, moaning into his mouth as I thrashed against him. He brushed my clit again and again, until I was ready to come to pieces around his fingers.