“Ask me to make you a what?” I hear a voice approaching from the dock.
“A Wet Spot,” Cole answers, reaching out a hand to greet our hosts.
Derek glides onto the deck of the boat swiftly, moving with confidence and ease. He’s tall and fit, with the body of a runner or soccer player. I imagined a creepy bartender with tattoos and gauges in his ears. I’m glad I was wrong.
Just as Cole had done, Derek holds out a hand and helps Shea onto the boat. But she needs very little assistance, obviously comfortable and familiar with the vessel.
Shea is beautiful in a way that I will never be – a tropical beauty with rich black hair that flows softly down her back, and a flawless sun-kissed complexion. She heads straight towards me with her hand outstretched. “Shea Keilani,” she introduces herself. “It’s great to finally meet you.”
I return the gesture. “Kensington Harper,” I respond. “But all my friends call me Kenny.”
“Well then, Kenny it is. Come on, I’ll show you where to stow your stuff,” she tells me as she leads me right over to the captain’s chair, and stops at what appears to be a dead end. She slides open a panel, revealing a set of steps that lead to a hidden cabin beneath the deck.
She ducks down and climbs the steps. I turn to check in with Cole, but he and Derek are talking and laughing. I hear Shea call up for me, “Are you coming down?”
“Coming,” I call as I carefully maneuver the steep steps. I’m in awe at what I see.
There’s a narrow passageway, no more than seven or eight feet long, and a low ceiling. On one side is a long curving bench that could easily seat six, which surrounds a small table. There’s a tiny kitchenette on the other side, complete with a sink, minifridge, and a handful of cabinets.
At the opposite end of the space is a curtain. Shea throws it open, revealing a large round bed with a smattering of pillows. This is where she tells me to put my bag. There’s even a small washroom with a toilet and sink off to the side.
She opens up the minifridge and pulls out two bottles of water, offering me one. Shea takes a seat on the bench and motions for me to join her. “I hope you don’t think that I’m being nosy. Well, maybe I am, but I have to ask . . . Is it true that you and Cole are just friends?” she asks, leaning in to hear my response.
“It’s true,” I admit. “Cole’s a really nice guy and we have a lot of fun together,” I explain.
“I saw the kind of fun you two had in Hawaii and the way you two nearly devoured each other on the dance floor. How do you go from that to just friends?”
I take a big gulp of water before answering. “It isn’t easy.”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Shea agrees. We both laugh, but just a little. “If you’re not dating Cole, is there someone special in your life?”
“Nope. Not for a long time, now,” I somberly admit.
“Bad break up?”
I shake my head. “Nah – he was dragged away by lions on an African safari,” I explain.
Shea’s eyes grow wide. “Oh, my God. That’s terrible.”
I smirk. “No, not really. He’s much happier now.”
Her shock turns to amusement. “You’re funny.”
Just then, we hear the engine start up. Shea jumps up from her seat, “Come on, let’s go see what’s going on.”
Derek is sitting in the captain’s chair getting ready to leave the dock and Shea takes a seat beside him, wrapping her arms around his and whispering in his ear.
Cole is standing at the back of the boat, wrapping up the last of the ropes that once had us tethered to the dock. I take a seat right behind Shea and watch as Cole and Derek do the final checks on the gauges, engines, and fuel.
“Everybody ready?” Derek calls back as Cole stows the gear and joins me on the bench.
Each of us calls back, “Ready,” as Derek throws the engine into gear and we slowly pull away from the slip and into the cove. Once we get a safe distance away from the shallow waters and into the open waters of the bay, he pushes the engines a little harder, and we really start moving.
There are other boats moving stealthily through the water, leaving wakes in their path. As we motor along, charting our own course, the boat lifts out of the water and lands with a hard thud as we cut through the choppy waters. It’s glorious, exhilarating, and I love every bit of it.
Derek knows how to handle the boat well and he speeds past channel markers and buoys until we find ourselves directly in front of the Barnegat Lighthouse. Derek turns off the engine and drops the anchor in the fairly shallow waters.
Shea leans over the seat and asks, “Hey, Kenny – wanna help me bring up some drinks from down below?”
“Absolutely!” I answer, following her down the stairs into the cabin beneath.
“There’s some orange juice and a bottle of champagne in the fridge. Grab it, will you?” she asks as she rummages through the cabinets.
I pull out both and announce, “Got it!” as Shea places champagne flutes and paper plates onto a serving tray. She grabs a few other essentials like napkins and forks, and together, we bring everything above deck.
From out of nowhere, a collapsible table has appeared between two rows of benches. Derek is sitting on one and Cole on the other, with a spread of all sorts of pastries and fresh fruit between them. “Wow – where did all this come from?” I ask, taking a seat next to Cole.
“Rush,” Derek replies. “Jette packed it for us. Enjoy.”
While the boys fill their plates, Shea and I set about making mimosas. She places a single raspberry in each flute and the fills it half way with champagne. After passing it to me, I fill each with orange juice and pass the glass along until each of us has one.
I eat much more than I need to, refilling my plate with strawberries, grapes, and melon more than once.
We sit and enjoy a leisurely breakfast beneath the lighthouse for over an hour. “So Derek, as a bartender, I bet you’ve seen some pretty crazy things over the years.”
Shea smiles and shakes her head. “Oh, babe – tell her what happened last week.”
Derek leans back and smirks. “It was a late weekday evening, a little past midnight. There were maybe eight or nine customers left at the bar hanging out, just talking quietly. There was a pair of cute girls. They were engaging, funny and had been tipping well. They weren’t obscenely intoxicated, just happily buzzed. It was just me and Blaine behind the bar.”
Shea interrupts. “Blaine is a music student in Manhattan. He grew up in Australia and is absolutely adorable.”
“Oh, in that case, tell me more,” I chuckle.
Cole isn’t laughing.
Derek continues. “They started chatting him up. While I was tending to another customer, I noticed some very strange looks coming from their direction. A minute later, Blaine wanders my way giggling himself silly. He told me that the girls asked him to take his shirt off.”
This story is getting good. “So what did he do?” I ask.
“He told them no and came to ask me for help. I slowly made my way over to the needy girls in question. I reached deep down for my inner flirt and charm.”
“He didn’t have to look very hard,” Shea chimes in. “Derek here is a total heartbreaker.”
“Thanks, babe.” He gives Shea a quick kiss. “So, I put my hand on my hip, leaned on the bar a few inches from them, put on a smirky smile, and asked them what had just happened. The cute brunette again requested a shirtless man – stat. I looked away for about ten seconds, thinking about their request. I said to her, ‘OK. Look. You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine,’ thinking that would kill it and put a quick end to the conversation.”
“Did it?” Cole asks, suddenly intrigued.
“Ha! The girls looked at each other for a few seconds. The next thing I know, the sexy brunette pulls her top and bra down at the bar. She’s completely topless – ladies fully out. I must admit, this was not the first time boobs have been flashed at the bar. But these were marvelous
– probably the most perfect set of hooters I’ve ever seen.”
That earns him an elbow from Shea.
“Sorry, the second best – obviously.”
“No shit,” Cole blurts out. “What did you do?”
“I considered all my options, scanned the bar for Marcus or Jette . . .”
“The restaurant manager and owner,” Cole leans over and explains to me.
“. . . and took a look at the customers scattered around the room. I’m not one to break my promises, so I took my shirt off of course!” He sits up, tossing his shoulders back. “They seemed pretty delighted. Maybe a minute later, we both put our clothes back on and had a good laugh. I bought them a round, they tipped generously, we blabbed a bit more, and off they went into the night. The funniest part was that not one other customer, at the bar or at the tables, gave us a second look or stopped their conversations.”
I turn to Shea. “Did that really happen?” I ask.
“Probably. Derek’s always coming home with crazy stories like that,” she explains.
Derek leans in to finish the story. “Now, I’ve seen some crazy shit at the bar: fights, brawls, hour-long slobbery tongue-in-throat sessions, hand jobs and blow jobs, gun threats, sidewalk chases, and shit like that. But never before that night had I asked someone to take their clothes off at the bar. And I never expected them to do it.”
Derek is a hoot. He and Shea have great stories to tell. Shea is a party planner and she’s got her own fair share of stories that nearly rival Derek’s. I sit and listen as they all take turns sharing crazy stories.
Even Cole has a few to tell about some escapades he and his cousin Evan have shared. Evan has dated models, actresses, singers, and trust fund babies. He’s been to Hollywood after parties and star-studded galas. And from time to time, he’s brought along Cole to experience a little bit of that, too.
At one point, I almost slip and tell some of my own stories about meeting with fans at book readings and conventions. I even met a famous Hollywood producer who had some interest in turning my books into movies. But sadly, those memories will have to remain private.
The sun is now high in the sky, beating down on us relentlessly.
Shea stands up and pulls her shirt up and over her head. “I need to cool off. Who’s in for a quick swim?” She shimmies out of her shorts and stands there in a bikini with her hand on her hips. “Well?”
Derek hops up, tears off his shirt and tosses it to the side. “I’m in. Let’s go.”
The two of them dive off the side of the boat and splash around in the water.
I turn to Cole. “Is it safe?”
“Safe?” he repeats. “Yeah – the water’s clean.”
“No, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m worried more about jellyfish and sharks,” I tell him. I’ve been in the ocean many times before, but each time, I have tended to stay pretty close to shore, and by tended, I mean I rarely went in past my waist.
Cole pretends to scan the waters for anything unusual. “What are you looking for?”
“Fins,” he announces. “Looks clear to me.” He calls out to Derek and Shea, “Hey, how are the jellyfish?”
“None as far as I can tell,” Derek calls back.
Cole looks to me to make a decision. “It’s your call. We don’t have to go in. We can just hang out if you’d rather.”
I’m here, I may as well go for broke. “Let’s go in. But I’m warning you, if I see one freaking fin, you’re being sacrificed for the good of the group.”
Cole grins and agrees. “Deal.”
There’s a fair amount of jiggling as I wiggle out of my shorts and pull off my top. And while I didn’t wear my skimpiest bikini, I did spend more than a few minutes picking it out. Brightly colored and tied tightly in the back . . . definitely semi-skimpy.
Do I notice how his eyes bug when I take off my shirt? Yes.
Do I notice how he bites his lip when I wiggle out of my shorts? Yes.
Do I notice how he tries so very hard, but fails so very miserably, to not look directly at my breasts as I lean over to pick up my discarded clothes? Oh, yes.
The real question is, does he notice how I whimper the tiniest bit when he takes off his shirt? No idea— because when he does, I can’t look anywhere but his torso. Lean, tan, lightly freckled, especially on the tops of his shoulders from a lifetime spent outdoors.
He takes me by the hand and leads me to the side of the boat where Shea and Derek have jumped in. He holds out his hand for me to steady myself as I climb onto the side of the boat and prepare to dive in. Before I do, I turn to look back. “Ready?”
“Oh, yeah,” he teases, his eyes firmly planted on me, but nowhere near my eyes. He gives me a firm slap on the behind, which launches me into the bay. By the time I surface, he’s beside me, grinning and smiling like a loon.
The water is cool and refreshing, and I’m now more wide awake and exhilarated than ever. We relax and swim for a while. The boys tend to venture further away from the boat than Shea and I dare. I watch as Cole’s strong shoulders move effortlessly as he slices through the water. His back muscles are tight and muscular. I can’t tear my eyes away.
He and Derek motion for us to join them. Just to be safe, I pause for a moment to check for fins. “Come on, Houdini, you can make it,” Cole calls to me.
The boys are now clinging onto a buoy and before long, I join them, holding on and bobbing up and down in the water. It’s so quiet. No cars, no buses, no radios; just lapping water and a few gulls crying overhead. It’s a bit unnerving at first, feeling so far out, but then I look to my left and there’s Cole, floating next to me, grinning.
I take a moment to really look around. From this distance, I can truly appreciate the beauty of the coast and the grandeur of the historic lighthouse. It’s the same view I had been enjoying from the safety of the boat, but here, from this angle, it’s a totally different experience. “Thank you,” I whisper.
Cole smiles. “You’re welcome,” and then asks, “You want to go see if we can find some dolphins?”
Duh – there’s only one correct answer to that question.
So the four of us make the short swim back to the boat, climb aboard and wrap ourselves in big, fluffy towels that have been warmed by the sun. Derek throws the boat in gear, and off we go back into the deeper waters of the Atlantic, searching up and down the coast for any sign of dolphins.
Sitting next to each other on the bench, feeling the sting of the ocean breeze pelting us as we cut through the water, and licking the saltwater off my lips, I look around for something to drink.
“There’s soda in the cooler,” Cole says, gesturing over his shoulder to the cooler hidden behind our seats.
Seeing it, I turn and bend over the back of our bench, losing my towel in the process. And as I lean in to grab the soda, I realize I had very nearly hit him in the head with my bottom.
“You want something to drink?” I ask, looking over my shoulder to see him grinning.
“Sure. Whatever. And feel free to take your time. Take a look at every soda in there. Twice, if you want.”
I swing wide and make sure to knock him in the head with the object of his affection on my way back to my seat.
“Here you go,” I say sweetly, handing him his soda while I pop the top on mine. We clink, and then sip.
We never find any dolphins. But Derek finds a nice calm part of a nearby bay to stop and relax for a spell. The four of us climb forward onto the bow of the boat, spread out our towels and bask lazily in the afternoon sun.
“You’re starting to pink up a bit,” Cole notes as he stares over at me. “Did you bring sunblock?”
“I did. It’s in my bag below deck. Do you mind?”
Cole slowly stands up while I drink him in, in all his glory. Sun-kissed skin, freckles scattered across his nose and shoulders, still damp hair swept back from his chiseled features. And those eyes, currently giving me the three-second inventory.
Through my eyelashes, I can see Derek and Shea flirting. I feel the sunrays dancing on my back as I listen to their familiar banter, teasing and taunting one another. Pangs of jealousy claw at my heart. My thoughts are interrupted when I hear Cole’s voice as he returns.
“I can put lotion on your back if you want,” he offers.
I hesitate to answer. Can I handle Cole touching my body, stroking my skin, stirring my blood, and making me crave more?
“Sure,” I blurt out, despite my fears and concerns.
I close my eyes and wait. His strong hands gather my hair and he gently twists it and moves it aside, granting him full access to my back.
Big man hands, rough and calloused, make contact with my skin. While on his knees, he works his hands up and down my body from my shoulders to my hips. The more he rubs and caresses, the more I relax into his touch. Each stroke sparks something deep within me that I cannot ignore. I fight the urge to flip over, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him stupid.
I gasp for breath when his hands move from my waist to the back of my thighs. It’s too much.
“Too cold?” he asks, pulling his hands away.
I manage to eek out a gravelly, “no.” More words are simply not possible. I hear Shea giggling and I wonder for a moment if she can see me struggling.
Cole returns to the task at hand, and finishes spreading the lotion over my thighs and calves. And in return, I’m left breathless. And boneless.
I can vaguely make out his request for me to do his back. I turn my head to the left and there he is, lying beside me, flashing me his perfectly pearly whites and absolutely adorable dimple. I could die a happy woman right here and right now.
Somehow, I muster up the strength the sit up and grab the lotion. The sweet smell of coconut and exotic tropical fruits hangs heavy in the air. Nothing smells more like summer.
When my hands touch the firm skin of his back, I can’t help but notice how Cole twitches – but just a little. I like the feeling that it gives me. But I need to test the theory. It may have been merely a coincidence. So I remove my hands and place them high on his shoulders. Again, he jumps ever so slightly. He feels it, too. It’s not just in my head (or between my legs).
Another Chance at Love (Another Series Book 1) Page 14