by Lane Parker
“Everything will be okay, Kate. I promise,” he said in a hoarse tone. “Maybe you can’t see it right now, but you’re never alone.”
“Do I know you?” I asked once again, my heart still racing faster than it should. I wanted to know who had taken my virginity, even if I never saw him again.
“Do me a favor?” he asked.
“What?”
“Don’t question what just happened. Don’t ever second-guess yourself.”
“I won’t,” I promised. “I could never regret what just happened. Well, not unless you’re married. Or have a woman in your life.”
His fingers pressed against my lips, silencing me. “Don’t,” he said roughly.
I stopped talking, but my body protested as his warm bulk stepped away. I could hear the rustle of his clothing as he was getting dressed.
I startled as he lifted my arms and put my dress over my head. I fumbled with the arm holes, but I managed. I heard the zipper go up as he secured it.
It wasn’t difficult to tell that he wanted to keep everything a mystery, and maybe I wanted the same thing. If I found out that he was married, or that he was a cheating bastard, it would ruin every bit of pleasure I’d just experienced.
Maybe I’m better off not knowing the truth.
I felt vulnerable, raw, and exhausted. I wasn’t sure my brain could even process anything more at the moment.
“Wait a few minutes before you leave,” he instructed.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked.
“For making me not feel so alone for a little while.”
He kissed me gently before he said, “Think about me if you feel alone. Fuck knows I’ll always be thinking about you.”
I sighed as he slipped out, and he was nothing more than a shadow as he closed the door firmly behind him.
I slumped against the wall, waiting. I felt naked without my panties, and I groped for a light, finally finding it close to the door, and I flipped the switch.
My underwear were nowhere in sight.
Not that they’d probably do much for me, anyway. I was certain they’d been torn when they’d left my body. But I was desperate not to feel so damn naked.
My eyes scanned the small building. It was neat and tidy, but filled with almost everything a person who lived on the Gulf could want to enjoy the water. There was a speedboat docked near another large door that obviously opened electronically to get the watercraft in and out of the enclosure.
Jet skis…check.
Water skies…check.
Paddle boards…check.
Tons of life jackets…check.
Fishing equipment…check.
The building was completely full of toys to play with in the ocean.
To me, this would always be the place where I’d lost my virginity, but it seemed to otherwise be an innocuous place where people stocked their water gear.
I turned back toward the door. I cautiously opened it, and slipped out of the building, nearly tripping over something that had been left just outside the entrance.
I smiled as I saw exactly what my obstacles were. My mystery man had obviously done me one last favor.
The black heels that I’d thought were lost forever on my way down to the dock were sitting right outside the door.
Chapter 4
It took me several hours and an entire pot of coffee to get my head straight. Once my inhibitions returned, I was pretty much mortified by what I’d done in that boathouse.
What in the hell had I done?
I’d arrived back at my motel in a daze, but reality was setting in as I pulled out my laptop after taking a shower.
It was the strangest day of my life, and I’d been pretty upset and more than a little drunk, but did that justify screwing an unknown man in a boathouse?
I sighed as I leaned back against the headboard in my pajamas, letting my computer rest in my lap without opening it.
I gave my virginity away to a stranger.
Like I’d told my mystery man, it wasn’t exactly like I’d been saving it. I wasn’t waiting for Mr. Right because I was completely convinced that he didn’t exist. I was well aware that I wasn’t the type of woman who inspired romance or passion in any guy.
I was shy.
I was plain.
And I was overweight and out of shape because I spent most of my time sitting on my butt working on the computer.
I was an academic overachiever, not a seductress.
I didn’t give in to emotions very often, at least not in a place where anybody could see me do it, and I was basically ruled by logic.
What in the hell had happened to my logical mind earlier? A guy whispered sexy things in my ear, and all of my reason had just fled. Then he touched me, and all I’d wanted to do was fuck him.
What had happened a few hours ago just didn’t make sense to me, even if I had consumed way more alcohol than I should have.
My buzz was gone, and I still knew I’d given in because I’d wanted him.
I should have screamed and fought my way out of that boathouse.
Truth was, I knew he would have let me go if I’d really wanted him to release me. But I hadn’t wanted that.
So now, I was left wondering what kind of man could make me crumble in a moment of passionate weakness?
Hell, I couldn’t believe I even had one of those moments, much less figure out who would want me so badly that they followed me down to the dock.
Nobody gave a damn about me for the most part. And no man had ever taken the trouble to care about how I was feeling.
Doubts crept in, as they were bound to do after sharing a mindless screw with a stranger.
Do I know him?
Is he married or attached to another woman?
Why did he need to hide who he was?
Surprisingly, I didn’t regret my reaction to him. How could I? He’d made my pleasure his priority, and I couldn’t imagine a better first experience if I was going to lose my V-card.
But I was uneasy with the fact that I didn’t even know his name.
Whoever it was had to have been at the reception. I didn’t believe that someone had just been waiting in that boathouse on the off chance that a woman would come there.
And he’d known my name.
I’d started hoping my mystery guy had been Ben, but my logic took over, telling me that he had definitely been chatting up the gorgeous blonde.
He’d never pick me over her. She looked like a model.
I startled when my phone bleeped, signaling a new text message.
Thinking it might be Ariel, I picked up the phone and flipped it over to see who was texting.
The identification wasn’t who I expected at all, and seeing the name show up on the text screen after months of silence made my belly do a nervous flip-flop.
Stalker.
“This isn’t even possible,” I said in a tremulous whisper.
I’d gotten the cell phone as a graduation gift right before I’d left to go to college. There had been no name attached to the gift, so I’d always assumed it had come from my father. My mother had just passed away, and I’d had nobody else except my dad who would be able to give such an extravagant gift.
The phone had already been activated, but there had only been one contact put in.
Stalker.
In some ways, I’d kind of been amused that my father would identify himself as my stalker, but it had also been a tiny bit touching that he was stalking me to make sure I was safe in Massachusetts.
I’d thought it was some kind of joke between a father and daughter.
But the person behind the name had been very real.
I hadn’t seen a text from him in a few months, which wasn’t unusual, but knowing that somebody was checking in with me had made me feel safer. We didn’t have a lot of communication, but I’d hear from him occasionally when he texted about my classes, and to ask how things were going in general.
It’s not him. It’s not my dad.
Unless my parent was reaching out from the grave, Stalker had never been him.
I stared at the text:
Stalker: How are you? I’m sorry about your father.
Okay, I had to admit, I was a little creeped out as I texted back.
Katie: You’re not my father. Who are you?
Stalker: When did I claim to be your father?
My mind was racing, my fingers scrolling through our previous and very brief exchanges.
Never! He’d never even hinted that he was my dad.
In my mind, there had only been one person he could be, and his texts were businesslike, so I’d filled in the blanks myself.
And Stalker being my father was the only thing that had ever made sense.
My body was tense as I answered:
Katie: You didn’t, but I assumed the phone and the number was my dad’s.
“Who are you?” I whispered aloud. “And why have you been checking on me for the last four years if you aren’t my father?”
Stalker: I’m sorry you were confused. I never meant for you to think that I was your father.
Katie: Was the phone a gift from you?
Stalker: Yes.
Katie: WHO ARE YOU?
I was getting pretty damn tired of mysteries, and the whole idea of my stalker not being a concerned father was more than a little frightening. Especially when I was newly all alone in the world.
Stalker: I’m somebody who cares what happens to you.
Angry tears rolled down my cheeks as I wrote back:
Katie: Nobody cares that much about me. Please stop texting me.
Stalker: Okay. Right after you answer my question.
He’d asked if I was okay. And no, I wasn’t doing well. But I wasn’t about to tell him that I definitely wasn’t okay.
I was angry.
I was let down.
I’d just found out that my father hadn’t even cared enough to make even a causal connection with me.
And I was mourning a father who had never been there for me except to pay my college bills.
Maybe I’d been stupid to hang on to one stupid connection like text messages. But it had been all I had.
“I’ll still make it,” I said fiercely. “I don’t need my father. I can work and go to school.”
I was angry at my late father; I was livid with myself.
I’d have to change my plans, but nobody except me could stand in the way of reaching my goals. I just needed to suck it up and move on in a different direction.
I’m a survivor. I always have been.
After giving myself a pep talk, I texted again.
Katie: I’m fine. Please go away.
I was scared. And I didn’t want to see a reminder of how little my dad had cared about me.
Stalker: Don’t delete my number. Keep it. I’ll be here if you need me, but I won’t approach you again.
I’d already been into my contacts to delete him, but I hesitated.
Could my stalker be Ben? Had he felt the urge to watch over me because he was my stepbrother?
My mind was reeling as I put my phone down on the bed and climbed underneath the covers.
Ben had been so sweet to me, even though we barely knew each other. I was pretty sure, if he was my Stalker, he was motivated by guilt, but he had no reason to feel guilty.
We weren’t family.
We barely knew each other.
And he owed absolutely nothing to me.
I fell asleep still running through the people I’d known in high school who could have given me the phone as a gift.
It was a short list.
Even after I was rested, and had my head on straighter than I had for the funeral, I still hadn’t been able to delete Stalker’s contact.
Maybe because I felt like he was my one connection to somebody who cared.
Chapter 5
Kate
My immediate need for permanent, full-time employment and a place to live kept me in Fort Myers. If I was coming home, I had to find work and a less expensive place to live than I had in Massachusetts. My roommate had kindly offered to send my things, and my boss at the bar had let me go without giving notice due to the circumstances.
I didn’t know if I’d go back for graduation. They could send my diploma, and I had more urgent things to worry about.
I let out a sigh as I packed the meager belongings I’d brought with me.
I didn’t have much.
I never had.
Even though I’d saved as much as possible, my bank account was pathetic. My father had paid my education costs, and my share of the rent, plus an allowance that went into my account every month. But I’d needed counseling to help control my panic attacks. Even though I’d found a low cost clinic, it had still been a lot of money to dish out for a student. So I hadn’t had much extra money, even though I was frugal. My job at the bar had brought in extra cash, and I banked it faithfully, always afraid that my father’s support would suddenly disappear. And it had. I just hadn’t imagined it would be because he died.
I looked around my motel room, mentally bidding the place goodbye. Not that I wasn’t okay with leaving because the place was a cheap dive. But the situation I was entering was pretty uncertain.
I’ll find my own place.
Ben had badgered me about taking the guest house at his brother Ian’s house, letting me know that my eldest stepbrother was out of the country for a few weeks, and the guest house was furnished and private.
I’d finally relented, but only if I was allowed to pay some kind of compensation for the place once I got on my feet. Ben had blown off my concerns, but I planned on taking it up with Ian when he got back from wherever he was traveling.
Ben and Ian were not family. Not really. And the last thing I wanted was to be a burden on any of the Blackwood family, even if they could easily afford it.
I felt like the poor, distant relative who could never support herself, and that was going to end…just as soon as I found a job.
“You ready?” Ben asked from the door of my motel room. I’d left it open for him.
I turned, unable to not be mesmerized by the perfection of Benjamin Blackwood.
God, he was beautiful. Every inch of him.
My heart skittered at the way his jeans and T-shirt clung to his muscular body. In casual clothing, he seemed more approachable, but he was still way out of my league.
His expression turned serious. “Are you okay?”
I thought about the words of my stalker, and it didn’t escape me that Ben was asking the same question my stalker had asked in his last text.
But it was a pretty common question.
I shrugged. “I’ll live. I just have a lot of things to do.”
I turned around again to close up my suitcase. Things were always better when I wasn’t looking directly at my stepbrother. He was way too gorgeous, and I seemed to lose my words when I stared at him.
“If I had a guest house, you could stay in mine,” he said. “But I never bothered with building one. All my family already lives here. And I’m pretty sure that Ian only built one for occasional guests for business.”
“Thanks,” I said in a rush. Honestly, I was craving privacy so I could continue to lick my wounds in peace for a few more days. But I had to find a job.
Survival over emotion—always for me. I didn’t function any other way.
Ben had already offered to open his house to me, and I’d refused his generous offer. Ian’s guest house had been so much more appealing.
Not that I didn’t want to stay with Ben and hope that he wandered around naked in his house, but being in the same home would turn out awkward, and I was the queen of feeling displaced.
“I’m hoping I won’t need it for long,” I said, embarrassed already about the fact that I had nowhere to go. “I don’t wa
nt to put anybody out.”
“You’re my family, Katie,” Ben said as he moved forward to grab my big suitcase. “I wish you’d consider my offer to put you through any advanced degree you want.”
“No!” My answered came out less grateful than it should have sounded. I appreciated Ben’s willingness to help me, but I’d been taking care of myself since my mom had passed away, and I had to stand on my own two feet now that I had my degree.
“But—” Ben started to say.
I interrupted, knowing he was going to start pushing again. “We’re not blood, and we’ve seen each other maybe five times.” I said sharply as I turned around again. “Please don’t make it sound like we’re really family.”
He grinned. “Sometimes I think it’s better to pick our own families rather than inheriting them.”
“I’d be the last one to argue with you about that,” I answered dryly as I followed him outside.
I dropped my room key in a drop box and hustled to his car. I’d already paid the bill for my room, and it had definitely made a dent in my savings.
Really, I had no choice at the moment about whether or not I took help from my stepbrother. If I didn’t, I’d have to take Ariel up on her offer of a place to stay.
My best friend from high school and I had remained close, but Ariel was still struggling through some personal losses with her own career.
There was no way I could be a burden to her right now. I didn’t have all that many friends, and I didn’t want to cause any strain on her.
Ben opened the door of his Audi R8, and I slipped carefully into the passenger seat and secured the seatbelt.
I hardly moved as he drove to Ian’s home. Cars that costed more than some people’s homes obviously made me nervous.
The drive was a long one since Ian’s house was located on Sanibel Island. We had to pass through the neighboring city of Cape Coral before we could get access to the causeway that connected the island to the mainland.
The island’s distance from the downtown areas would be a challenge for my job search, but I had so many good memories of time spent with my mother on the beaches of Sanibel that the offer to live there temporarily had been way too tempting. Maybe I was hoping that the peace on the island would help heal the gaping wound that had opened up since my father had passed.