Happy Crazy Love Boxed Set

by Melanie Harlow

  Christ, was she serious? “Skylar, all of me says I spent the entire second half of dinner last night thinking about fucking you. Does that answer your question?”

  She gasped and looked up at me, her mouth hanging open. Her eyes danced with shocked delight.

  “But you were right—I do need time.”

  “OK,” she finally managed.

  We sat there for a few minutes in silence, and I gently rocked the hammock forward and back. Eventually, her head tilted toward me, and she rested it against my arm, making me smile. This I could handle. This was the sort of pure, peaceful moment I desperately needed to feel like myself. A sense of calm pervaded me, and I breathed deeply, allowing the verdant, woodsy air to fill my lungs. Skylar’s breathing was deep and even too, and a moment later I realized she’d fallen asleep.

  Testing myself, I lowered my lips to her head and gently pressed them to her hair.

  No voice. Just stillness and peace.

  Flooded with gratitude, I inhaled the sweet floral scent of her shampoo before closing my eyes.

  It might not have been the nap fantasy I’d had last night, but it was a damn good start.

  Maybe there was hope for me.

  Hope for us.

  Fourteen

  Skylar

  I woke up leisurely, completely comfortable. Next to me, Sebastian’s breathing was slow and steady, so I figured he’d fallen asleep too. There was something so nice about falling asleep next to someone you liked—it was intimate without being sexual, which was exactly what we needed.

  Well, it’s what he needed. I’d take a shot at sexual if he’d let me.

  A deep, hard shot.

  But I also didn’t want to rush anything. He seemed so sensitive, so concerned about making the wrong move, or making a move too soon.

  I needed to stretch but I didn’t want to wake him, so I stayed like I was and thought more about what he’d told me about himself. It seemed so strange that he didn’t trust himself around me when he knew that was his OCD talking and not his real self. But I had no idea what it felt like not to be able to ignore that mean voice in your head—these days I was the fucking champion of putting that voice off, shoving it aside so I didn’t have to take a critical look at myself.

  My insides warmed when I thought of the way he’d said he wanted to let me in, and they went molten when I recalled him saying he’d thought about fucking me. He could go from one extreme to the other so quickly. What would he be like as a lover? Sweet and tender? Rough and demanding?

  And that body. My god.

  My belly flipped as I let my eyes sweep over his abs and crotch and legs, and warmth tingled between my thighs. Was it possible to straddle someone on a hammock?

  Stop it. You just agreed to give him time, and it’s probably been about twenty minutes.

  Right. He probably meant more time than that.

  Just then his hand twitched on my leg, and his breathing altered. “Mmm. Did I fall asleep?”

  “Yes. But I don’t blame you. It’s so quiet and peaceful here, I fell asleep too. In fact, I could go back to sleep.” I closed my eyes, not wanting him to move yet. He trailed one finger up my thigh, sending gooseflesh rippling across my skin. My God, I wanted him to touch me so badly. How long would I have to wait?

  “Do it. I’m going to put those chairs together.”

  Sighing, I watched him walk over to the two big boxes on the patio. Then I stretched out on my side in the hammock, tucking my hands beneath my face. Guess there would be no straddling today. But I could think of worse ways to spend an afternoon than watching Sebastian perform manual labor outside in the heat, arm muscles flexing. I was dreamily watching him finish up the first chair when he surprised me by initiating a conversation.

  “So you said something last night I’m curious about.” He set the drill aside and studied his work.

  “What was it?”

  “You mentioned how the voice in your head tells you you’re a failure.”

  “Oh, that.” I frowned. “Yeah, it does. All the time.”

  He started working on the second chair. “Why do you think that?”

  Between short bursts of noise from the drill, I opened up about how I felt lost at this point in my life, about how ashamed I was that I’d failed to make it as an actress and had no backup plan, and about how my sisters’ success only served to make me feel worse. “I feel horrible saying that,” I admitted. “I’m so proud of them and I’m happy they’re so good at what they do. It’s not like I begrudge them their success. I just feel bad about my lack of it, and envious that it was so clear cut for them—the path to it, I mean.”

  “It’s not like that for a lot of people, though. And if Natalie’s business hadn’t done well, would you have called her a failure?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Well, then?”

  I frowned, waiting for the drill to quiet. “That’s different. That was a business. My failure feels more personal.”

  “Maybe you were supposed to fail.” He flipped the chair upside down to get at the bottom. “Maybe there’s something else you’re supposed to do with your life. That’s sort of how I feel about myself.”

  I watched him work for a few minutes, more curious than ever. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I thought I wanted to be a corporate attorney in New York, but I hated it.”

  “That’s not the same as failing.”

  He stood up straight and looked over at me. “I was fired, Skylar. For being late too often. For erratic behavior. For getting in a fist fight with a senior partner.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed. “Uh, my mother says failure builds character.”

  He smiled wryly. “You should listen to her.”

  “I do,” I said. “This morning she basically told me to get a fucking life. Or at least a real job.”

  “What do you want to do?” he asked.

  “I was trying today to think of something, and I just don’t know. That’s pathetic, right? That I’m almost twenty-eight and have no idea?” Frustration tightened my throat, and I willed myself not to cry and spoil this nice afternoon.

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “I would. And I’d add that I’m not good enough at anything to make the choice easy, and I have nothing unique to put on a resume. The truth is, Sebastian, I’m just not that interesting of a person.” Saying it out loud brought both relief and pain.

  “I don’t believe that for one second,” he said firmly. “You’re outgoing and smart and beautiful. When I look at you, I see someone who’d be good at anything she set her mind to.”

  “That’s not me at all!” I blustered, sitting up swiftly and nearly toppling backward out of the hammock. “But I feel like I’ve been impersonating that person for so long, I don’t even know who I actually am!” To my dismay, I burst into tears, and I was so embarrassed I jumped out of the hammock and ran down toward the dock, where I put my face into my hands and sobbed.

  I heard footsteps behind me, and then felt Sebastian’s hand on my shoulder as he turned me into his arms. “Hey, you. Come here.”

  His chest was warm and solid, and I collapsed against him, crying into my palms. He rubbed my back and trembling shoulders, shushing me gently.

  “Here I thought it was my anxiety I’d struggle with today,” he said after a few minutes. “But you’re a mess.”

  I half-laughed, half-sobbed. “Thanks.”

  “How much of this is because of that stupid reunion on Saturday?”

  “I don’t know. Some of it, I guess.” I took a few hitching breaths, trying to calm down.

  “You should skip it. I think it’s making you feel worse.”

  “I know it is. But I have to go. I said I’d help with decorations.” I looked up at him with tearful eyes. “Would you come with me? Please? Just as friends,” I said quickly. “I won’t try anything.”

  He smiled but shook his head. “I really can’t, Skylar. It would serve no purpose and just dredge up
painful memories.”

  Nodding sadly, I wiped my eyes and sniffed. “I understand.”

  “Need a tissue?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Come on. Let’s go find some in the house, and then after I finish the chairs, we’ll go do something fun. How does that sound?”

  “Good.” I sniffed again, wondering what his idea of fun was. Algebra? Sudoku? Chess? “What’ll we do?”

  “I don’t know. Want to go buy a canoe?

  I couldn’t help smiling a little, it was so random. “A canoe?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been wanting one. Or maybe a rowboat. You can help me decide.”

  “All right.”

  “Then we’ll bring it back here and take it out on the water if it’s calm enough. How does that sound?”

  “Good.”

  “Can you paddle a canoe?”

  I nodded. “I’m good at it, actually.”

  He elbowed me as we walked toward the cabin. “And you said you’ve got nothing for your resume.”

  I laughed, my spirits lifting.

  We compared prices of canoes and rowboats at the sporting goods store, but Sebastian seemed less worried about price than he was about buying the perfect boat. Like me with shoes, I thought, sucking on the honey stick I’d bought at the counter. I never could resist those things.

  He ended up buying a beautiful wooden rowboat plus some oars and a light anchor—as well as another honey stick for me. The total cost was so high it made me wonder where his money came from. He’d said he worked part-time for his dad, but was that enough to live on, build and furnish that cabin, and have money for luxuries like a boat?

  “So this might be none of my business, and you can tell me to piss off, but without a full-time job, how do you live?” I asked once everything was loaded in the truck and we were on our way back to the cabin.

  “I have some investment income.” He ran a hand over the scruff on his jaw before going on. “My mother’s family had money. Old money. My father had no interest in it, so after she died, he and her parents set aside an inheritance for each of her children. I used some for law school and some to build the cabin, but the rest is invested. I don’t like to touch it, but I have used some of the interest to live on over the last year.”

  “Oh.” I wondered if his mother’s death was too painful to talk about. “Were you close to your mom?”

  He nodded before taking a deep breath. “I was only eight when she died. As painful as the last year of my life has been, it doesn’t come close to that loss. Nothing ever will.” His voice cracked on the word ever, and my heart did too.

  “It’s a good thing we’re driving because I really want to hug you right now and I can’t.”

  He gave me a mock dirty look. “You stay in that seatbelt.”

  I smiled, chewing on the empty honey stick he’d bought me. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine losing a parent.”

  “You close to your family?”

  “Yes. My mother pissed me off this morning, but generally we are all pretty tight.” I propped my elbow on the open window and let the wind rush through my hair. “I wish my parents would have pushed me harder to go to college.”

  He glanced at me. “Did they push a little?”

  “Oh yeah. We had big fights about it. I said it wasn’t for me and all I wanted to do was act. They said they’d pay for college but they wouldn’t give me money just to move to New York. So I worked and saved and went on my own—and it took me a long time, like years, because I’m not by nature a saver.”

  “That’s a great accomplishment. You’re too hard on yourself.”

  “Maybe. Anyway.” I sighed, dropping my hand to my lap. “Now after all that, I wish I’d have listened to my mom and dad when they said I’d be sorry to have no degree to fall back on.”

  “So go to college now.”

  I gaped at him. “Now?”

  “Yes. Why not?”

  “Because I’m old.”

  He smiled. “You’re not old. But let’s forget about age for a moment. What would you study?”

  “Hmmm. Good question. I don’t know.” I thought about it. “Actually, I sort of liked working in the tasting room at Rivard. Giving tours of the chateau, talking to people about the wines and the area. I had some ideas for the place too.”

  “What kind of ideas?”

  “Design ideas. And I wanted to modernize their brand a little, but there was resistance, and I wasn’t there long enough to convince them.”

  “OK. So maybe you’d like something in marketing or PR.”

  “Maybe.” A little enthusiasm bubbled up inside me. “But I don’t have any real experience or skills. I just know what looks nice. Or at least what I think looks nice.”

  “Skylar, anyone who meets you knows you have good taste. I think you’d be great at a job like that. You just need to find the right one.”

  Pleasure swelled inside me at his compliments, at his confidence in me. I wished I had it in myself. “Thanks. I’ll give it some thought.”

  When we reached the cabin, we hauled the boat down to the dock and put it in the water. It was late afternoon but the sun was still high in the sky, and air was hot and still, just a slight breeze off the bay. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my arm while Sebastian tied the boat to the dock.

  “I wish I’d have grabbed my bathing suit. The water looks good.”

  He looked up at me with a doubtful smile. “You’d swim? It’s a warm day, but the water’s still pretty cold.”

  I lifted my chin. “I’m a brave little toaster. Hey, do you have any sunscreen?”

  He straightened up. “Yes. Bathroom drawer on the bottom right.”

  “Thanks.” Inside, I fought the urge to rifle through Sebastian’s entire bathroom cabinet to learn more about him. I opened only the bottom right drawer, which was very neat and contained sunscreen, shaving cream, razors, and bar soap. Using the mirror over the sink, I applied some SPF 30 to my face, arms, and legs, and brought it outside with me to offer some to Sebastian.

  Oh fuck. He took off his shirt.

  My belly backhandspringed repeatedly as I approached the dock, where he was loading the paddles into the boat. Natalie hadn’t exaggerated; Sebastian was ripped. He was tall and slender, so it wasn’t an obnoxious sort of ripped, but the curves and lines on his body made my breath come faster. His skin was as beautiful as his bone structure—golden and smooth.

  “Want some of this?” I asked, holding up the sunscreen.

  “Nah. I don’t mind the sun.”

  “Sebastian! You have great skin. You should be nicer to it. Here, let me.” Hahaha, fucking genius! Hiding a smile, I flipped the lid and squirted some into my hand. “Turn around.”

  He sighed, but did as I requested, and I put my hands on his upper back. Biting my lip, I slowly rubbed the sunscreen into his skin, sliding my palms across his broad shoulders and along the back of his neck. I stayed well away from the waistband of his faded red shorts, but I did notice his blue plaid boxers peeking out above it. My stomach contracted.

  “OK. Front.”

  Slowly, he turned to face me, and I swear I was just going to offer him the tube to do it himself, but the combination of his face and those glasses and the stubbled jaw and the sculpted chest and the abs—THE ABS—overpowered me. I nearly moaned aloud, imagining how those muscles would flex as he moved above me.

  Gahhhhhh, don’t touch him, Skylar. He doesn’t want it.

  But…but abs. If he said no, he said no.

  “Want me to do it?” I asked brightly.

  He hesitated. “OK.”

  FAHK.

  Trying to control my racing pulse, I squirted some more sunscreen into my palms and rubbed them together. Then I put them on his chest.

  And left them there.

  Awestruck, I stared at my hands on his sun-warmed chest. Bits and pieces of me tightened and tingled.

  “I think you’re supposed to rub it in.” His tone was amused.

&
nbsp; Huh? Oh. Right.

  Slowly I began to move my hands in lazy circles on his pectacular chest. When it was absorbed, I slid my hands lower without bothering to put more sunscreen on them. The hard ridges of his abdominal muscles rippled beneath my fingers, and I slid them back and forth along the furrows.

  Yes. I fingered his furrows.

  “Wow.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed. “You must do a lot of crunches.”

  He chuckled, and the muscles twitched beneath my palms, shooting pure lust through my veins.

  Oh, God. If it was any other guy, I’d have slipped a hand between his legs right then and there. But Sebastian was different, and I didn’t want to ruin this by moving too fast. Last time I’d gotten touchy-feely with him, he’d panicked.

  But he was still now. Too still, maybe.

  I looked up at him. “Is this OK?”

  Fifteen

  Sebastian

  Was this OK?

  Your hands are inches away from my rapidly rising cock. Your nipples are hard—I can see them through your shirt. You’re looking up at me with such sweet concern, but I can see the way you want me, too, and fuck, I want you that way too. But something inside me won’t let me touch you.

  I cleared my throat and took a step back. “It’s fine. Should we go?”

  Her face fell, but she nodded.

  After jumping into the boat, I took Skylar’s hand and helped her in, but I noticed that she let go of me as soon as she had two feet on the bottom of the boat. She settled at the front, arms wrapped around her legs, sunglasses hiding her eyes.

  After untying the rope, I pushed away from the dock and picked up the oars, angry with myself again. I knew she’d been hoping I’d be fucking normal for a few minutes and at least kiss her or something, but I couldn’t. Not that I didn’t want to—my god, I was lucky I didn’t come in my pants the second she put her hands on me. Every male instinct in my body was screaming at me to throw her down right there in the boat and ravage that hot little body until she begged for mercy.