Adrift

by Isabel Jolie

“She’s your classic mom. She loves my sister and me. She’s big into volunteering. She’s a good wife. Loves my dad. Now that we’re out of school, she has a small interior design business.”

  “You sound like you miss her.”

  “Do I?” Those oversized blue eyes stared back at me. “I guess I do. I enjoy our lunches. And we’re a pretty close family. But I’ll be back soon. This is temporary.” My mom had been spoiled having my sister and me so close. “For a long time, we’d get together on weekends for dinner, but that slipped off the calendar years ago. But we’re all pretty competitive. In the summer, we’ll get together and play mixed doubles tennis. We usually get away for at least one ski trip each winter. Does your family—”

  She shook her head with a quick jerk before I finished my question. The two of us had different backgrounds, that much was certain.

  “How long have you been on your own?” She looked up to the ceiling, and I followed her gaze, expecting to see the remnants of a spiderweb.

  “A long time. I’m independent.”

  “You are.” The thrust of her chin underscored her pride in that statement. I understood, to some degree. But I couldn’t help but think she hadn’t had a choice, and that struck me as sad.

  After dinner, I followed her out, mesmerized by the sway of her hips. Her silky dress hugged her full curves. I longed to grip those curves and pull her up against me. My ex, like many of the women I slept with, was lean and fit. I yearned to feel Poppy’s soft curves, to press my hard planes against those hills and valleys. The skin and bone look had its place for sure, but I found myself tantalized by Poppy’s fuller figure. I itched to cup those breasts. To see them bare.

  As I followed her, I thought through my strategy. If I played my hand right, I could have her out of that dress very, very soon. I couldn’t wait to see her lingerie. I wondered, would I have seen it before? In a post? Or did she wear something new tonight? Just for me?

  I planned to peel back her bra and suck on one of those delectable nipples, to squeeze what I felt quite certain were large natural breasts. She posted these tempting shots that spawned countless fantasies. Eager to play one out tonight, my cock strained against my pants.

  I parked outside her cottage. As I followed her up to her door, I counted. Three more weeks until she’d be moving into my place, which would be so much more convenient. Then, when we had date nights, I wouldn’t even have to leave the house. She’d be downstairs—readily available for any kind of play.

  “Are you starting to pack yet?” I asked.

  “No…not yet.”

  “Let me know if you need help. I can get you boxes. We could even hire movers to pack you.”

  She stopped at her door and turned, placing a hand on my chest. Her touch set wheels in motion. I dipped low and pressed my lips to hers while I wrapped an arm around her waist. Her soft curves caressed me, welcomed me. My hand gripped the right globe of her ass and pulled her closer so I could rock my painfully hard erection against her.

  Pressure against my chest intensified. With a shove, she broke the kiss. I searched her face, confused. Her palm pressed hard against me, the pressure both calming me down and holding me at bay.

  “Thank you for dinner. I had a good time.”

  Come again? “You’re welcome.” My arm remained wrapped around her, and I dipped once more to claim her mouth. To tempt her.

  She ducked, opened the door, and closed the screen door in a nanosecond, leaving me alone on her porch. Cold air infiltrated my clothes where her body had warmed mine.

  I pointed at her through the screen. “Does this mean you’re not inviting me in?”

  “I had a great time. But I’m not the kind of girl who invites a guy in after the first date.”

  “You have an OnlyFans account.” I didn’t mean to be condescending, but in a manner of speaking, the girl used sex for a living.

  “And?” she asked, eyebrows raised up to her hairline.

  “I’m sorry. Maybe I don’t understand. Are you more of a third date kind of girl?”

  “Goodnight, Gabe.” The blonde curls swung as she closed the door in my face.

  “Does Luna talk about Poppy much?” I propped my beer on the armrest of the Adirondack chair, aiming for as nonchalant as possible. Tate and I had planned to go surfing, but the waves were so flat we ended up sitting on my deck with cold ones.

  “Not too much, no.” He rested against the back of his chair, face up to the sun.

  “I went out on a date with her last night.”

  “Yeah, how’d it go?” He didn’t even open an eye.

  “Fine.” My comment earned a smirk.

  “Doesn’t sound fine.”

  “Do you see her with many guys? I mean, I know she just got back from being away, but before that. Did she date a lot?”

  “Wasn’t paying much attention. Why?”

  “Guys were calling her during our date. Curious.” I swallowed long and hard on my beer.

  “Maybe her work extends to—”

  “Phone sex? She says it doesn’t.”

  Tate said nothing else. For a few minutes, I suspected he’d fallen asleep. Too hot under the blazing sun, I stood to move under an umbrella. Tate picked up his beer and followed me.

  “If you want, I can ask Luna to invite her over here for dinner with us.”

  “Yeah, do that.”

  He tapped out a text to Luna. She was spending the day in the marsh collecting soil samples for a research project. He set his phone down in the shade then studied me.

  “She doesn’t strike me as your type. If you’re using her, Luna won’t forgive you. And then we’ll have an issue hanging out.”

  “I’m not using her. I like her. For real. And what, exactly, do you see as my type?”

  “Tall, skinny, Ivy background. Like the sorority girls from college. A northeast girl. The kind of girl you dated in undergrad.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “You think you’ve changed?” He chuckled. “Name one girl you’ve dated who doesn’t fit into that description.”

  “You’ve been gone for ten years. How would you know?”

  “Name her. Show me a photo.”

  “I don’t date anyone seriously.”

  “That’s not true. At least it wasn’t true. You weren’t the random hook-up guy. You’d date them. Do the restaurant thing. Movies. You’d date them for a while. Until they wanted to get serious.”

  “For someone who’s been gone a long damn time, you really are presumptuous. You think in ten years’ time you’re the only one who changed?”

  “Nah, Gregg and I don’t have much to talk about, so he’s filled me in on you.”

  “That’s what Gregg said about me?” Tate’s brother and I had stayed friends when Tate went gallivanting around the world. I’d done my part to help them reconnect when Tate first returned, but sitting here, I began to regret it. “Why would he say something like that?”

  “He didn’t mean it negatively. I think I asked him if you’d dated anyone seriously or something.”

  “Why would you ask him that?”

  “Because I have nothing to say to him. And come to think of it, you were texting me about Poppy. Asking me where she was. That’s why it came up. Over Christmas. So, what’s the deal? You can’t use her. I’m telling you, if you do, it’ll cause issues.”

  “Use who?” Reed plopped down in a chair near us. I’d flown out and picked him up earlier that morning. He claimed my Cessna vibrated too much and made him nauseated, so he’d gone downstairs to the guest room to take a shower and nap it off.

  “Reed, this is my friend Tate. Tate, this is my colleague I told you about. He and I started at Belman around the same time.”

  “Nice to meet you. How long are you here for?”

  “Not sure. I don’t know if I can get back in that little plane. I might book a commercial flight to get home.”

  Tate chuckled. “Yeah, those little planes take a bit to get used to.”

>   “I’m not one to get seasick or anything, but man. I thought I was going to lose my breakfast.”

  “Whatever. It’s a free flight,” I said pointedly to Reed. My plane gave me wings. Not metaphorical wings—real, tangible wings that allowed me to soar. I’d tested the waters a few years ago and became addicted. While it became one of my favorite hobbies, I discovered it was also often a solo hobby. Not too many people loved getting into the kind of plane I was certified to fly. And whereas I found it comforting to go over our plan should our single engine die, I’d noticed no one else took comfort in the fact the plane turned into a glider.

  “Have you ridden with him?” Tate nodded as answer to Reed’s question. “Plane shakes like a tin can in the wind. Loud, too. Took forever.”

  “We ran into turbulence. It’s not like that every time. And I hate to break it to you, but you won’t get a direct back. You’ll have to connect if you go commercial. My little plane is a helluva lot faster.”

  “Your plane is a death trap.”

  I flipped Reed the bird, and Tate chuckled.

  “No, you don’t understand.” Reed’s tone took on an urgent quality. “He held a sample of fuel up to check for water or some crap. We had to push the plane out of the hangar. Then, when we landed, we pushed it back. Like, held on to a wing and pushed. The guy’s loaded. He should have a private jet and a stewardess.”

  “I like flying my own plane. It’s fun. I’m not licensed to fly the bigger planes, and I’m not sure they’d be as much fun. Suck it up, Buttercup.”

  “Not again. I’m not getting back in that single engine tin can.”

  “Fine by me. Look, I’m going to order some food for dinner tonight. Tate, will Jasmine be joining us?” Tate’s adopted daughter, Jasmine, came over quite a bit for dinner. She always stuck her nose in a book. So quiet, you’d forget she was in the room.

  “No. She left this morning for the Outer Banks with Alice. They have tickets to the outdoor Blackbeard show.” Alice, a grandmotherly kind of woman on the island, had bonded quickly with Jasmine. If I were Tate, I might be a little hesitant to let my daughter spend so much time with the odd bird. But given Jasmine arrived from Somalia and spoke in stilted English, I supposed making friends with other thirteen-year-olds might be challenging.

  I stepped inside the house and called Shelley to request a catered meal. She asked about tablecloths and candles. If it had been only me and the guys, I would’ve declined. But I liked her suggestion and even told her I’d pay for them to string up some lights over my deck for ambience. After getting a screen door to the face, I decided I needed to up my game. I had zero intention of giving up on my little fantasy. My fingers ached to get a hold of those breasts.

  I returned to the deck with a bucket of ice loaded down with beers and a bag of Doritos.

  “Tate tells me you’re still seeing that OnlyFans girl?”

  “Yes.” I side-eyed Tate, wondering what the hell was wrong with the guy that he chatted about me with all these dudes.

  “I want in.” Reed leaned forward, so casual you would have thought he was saying he wanted in on an investment.

  “You what?” I asked, stepping forward into his space.

  “Hey, I’m already a subscriber. She’s hot. She’s one reason I came down here. How much does she charge?”

  “She’s not a prostitute.” Reed overlooked my balled fist.

  “Yeah, right. That’s what they do. You gonna tell me you haven’t yet used her services?”

  I flinched. His innuendo knocked me back because he’d been with me to Singapore and London. Tate might think I didn’t hook up with randoms, but Reed had been with me at some wild parties. Admittedly, those prostitutes were paid for by our host, and it was more or less a part of the scene, and nothing I’d ever admit to someone like Tate’s big brother, Gregg. I glared at Reed, silently telling him to shut the fuck up. What happened overseas stayed overseas. And while I might have fantasies about Poppy, none of those fantasies involved sharing her.

  Tate piped up and quelled the rising tension with a simple, “So, Reed, do you like the Yankees or the Mets?”

  Chapter 16

  Poppy

  * * *

  “Don’t you dare go in that house without me,” I warned as I sped along the path, a grocery bag tucked between my legs for secure storage.

  “I won’t. I promise. I’m parked right out front. How far away are you?”

  “I’m here. One second.” The house came into view, and Luna stood on the porch step. A kid on a bike pulled out from one of the drives, and I slammed on the brakes. The kid waved a hand and smiled, taking off down the street, seemingly unaware I almost wiped him out. I continued at a slower pace into Gabe’s short drive up to the unbelievable oceanfront property which might be my new temporary home. Mind-blowing. I still hadn’t decided if I’d take him up on his offer, but the proposition couldn’t have been more tempting.

  “What all have you got in that bag?” Luna asked as I set the parking brake.

  She peered into the loaded reusable grocery bag on the seat. “Well, I’m a tagalong, so I wanted to be sure I wasn’t a freeloader.”

  “Poppy, you’re not a tagalong. Gabe asked Tate to have me bring you. I told you that.”

  “Well, yeah, but…anyway, I brought some flowers I thought might be nice for the table because boys don’t usually think of things like that, and some cupcakes I picked up from the grocery, and some crackers and a few cheeses I thought we could pull out, and some wine. I would have brought some sides, but I didn’t know what we were eating.”

  “Jeez, girl. I don’t think you needed to do all that, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

  We climbed the steps to the front door side by side. Luna’s flip flops slapped the wooden steps with a loud plop. She pushed open the front door without knocking and kicked off her shoes at the door. I followed her in, down the wide foyer, and to the open living area. An old colleague I recognized strode in front of us, carrying a wide platter onto the screened porch.

  When she reentered the kitchen, I smiled hello. “Tamara. I didn’t know you'd be here tonight.”

  She wiped her brow and pulled at a white apron wrapped around her waist. “I’m here delivering the catering order. Shelley said she’d tip me fifty dollars extra if I get it all set up. Do you think that looks nice?” She waved her arm at the outdoor dining table. She’d lit candles all along the center table and set up a buffet table with enough food for easily twenty-five people. “He decided against having a bartender for tonight, but I did set up a few of our cocktail mixes at the bar station. Am I forgetting anything? Does this look okay to you? I’ve got to get back.” She glanced at her watch. “Jean can’t hold down both of our sections.”

  “I think it looks fantastic. You go. I can do whatever else needs to be done.”

  “Let me go make sure Mr. Chesterton’s okay with everything. I need him to sign, too.”

  She stepped through the sliding doors onto the deck. Luna and I gaped at each other.

  “Luna! How many people are coming? Am I dressed okay?” I wore a long sundress but paired it with flip flops. I’d done my hair and make-up, obviously, but this was insane. Based on the matching navy tablecloths and napkins, it looked like he’d rented items from party planners. Upon closer examination, he’d definitely rented. I recognized the silverware. I’d worked a ton of wedding functions and set up a similar bar station myself countless times.

  Luna spun around in a circle, as stunned as I was, speechless.

  Gabe, Tate, and another guy strode in through the sliding glass doors. I searched for a place to stash my bag, which now felt wildly inappropriate. Gabe swiftly bypassed Luna to greet me.

  “Hey. I’m glad you could make it.” He brushed his lips across my cheek. Luna didn’t seem to notice since she was absorbed by Tate.

  “I brought some stuff. For dinner.” I held the grocery bag up to him. “But it doesn’t look like you need it.”

&nb
sp; “You’re sweet.” He lifted the bag and handed it over to Tamara. “Would you mind setting this stuff out before you go? Thanks.”

  “Oh, I can get it. She’s got to run. You probably don’t even need what I brought, anyway.” Tamara glanced between us. “Seriously, go, girl.” Jean could handle her own weight, but even the most skilled waitress wasn’t a magician. There was a limit to how many tables an individual person could cover.

  Gabe’s arm circled my waist as I fussed with the flower arrangement. “Those are nice. Thank you for bringing them.”

  “They don’t really go with the nautical theme you have going. I love the candles floating in water.” I pointed at several of the glass dishes set about the room with lit candles. The rental place used these in some of the weddings I’d worked. I scanned the outside deck, searching to see who else was here and what they were wearing while cursing myself for not asking more questions before agreeing to come over.

  “Shelley did it all. I asked her to make it look nice. I told her someone special was coming over.”

  “Who all is coming over? Am I dressed—”

  “You. You’re the someone special.”

  I paused and looked beyond him to the set table. Five place settings. He did all this for five friends getting together?

  “I don’t understand.” His fingers lightly brushed my arm, and when I looked up, all I could see were those forest green eyes.

  “It’s our second date. I wanted to make a good impression.”

  “On me?” I pointed at myself, clearly slow on the uptake.

  “Well, I’m definitely not trying to impress Reed.” He snorted at his own joke, and the man in question walked up and thrust his hand out to me.

  “Hi. I’m Reed. I’m one of your fans.”

  The oxygen seeped out of my lungs. The whole room spun into vertigo.

  “Jesus, Reed. Back the fuck off.” Gabe’s tone broached no room for argument.

  The two men glared at each other, and I gathered my wits.

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ve just never met someone who was also a subscriber. I assume that’s what you mean?” Lordy, how mortifying if he was referring to something other than OnlyFans.