Blue Crush (7 page)

Liver, you’re getting a break.
“Sure.”

We pay our bill and walk out on the sand, staking a spot near the dock where vacationers and Beacon workers in blue T-shirts walk back and forth, doing … I’m not exactly sure what. Hanging out? Guarding the dock? It’s lively, considering the few boats coming in and out. Most of the activity stems from canoes and paddleboats passing beneath, en route to the Beacon beach.

I’m watching people in their canoes and whatnot duck their heads as they drift under the beams of the dock, when a paddleboarder, bent on one knee, glides past. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention, my stomach tightening in anticipation. I can’t see his face, but I don’t have to.

How the eff?

Nessa adjusts her triangle bikini top, oblivious. No one knew we were coming today. We made last-minute plans.

Every aspect of Lewis comes into focus one by one, as if I’m watching a movie in slow motion. I see the dark, ruffled hair, the bare, tanned skin, the flex of muscles as he shifts his fingers on the front of the paddleboard to support his weight while he kneels to clear the dock, his calf muscle bulging on the leg footing the board. He passes the pier, stands with his paddle in one hand, and glances at the beach. His gaze immediately narrows on me, and my breath locks in my throat.

Nessa leans in. “Oh my gosh, is that Lewis?”

I’m too disoriented to answer. He’s paddling to shore and I’m staring at his body like he just stepped out of the shower in a porno. I’ve never seen a porno, but I imagine this is what it would be like. Lewis without a shirt is erotic. Indecent. His chest and arms—I couldn’t look away the first time I saw his forearms at the dinner party, with his shirt pushed to his elbows. They were interesting and masculine, the bands of muscle and the hint of veins. Now I see all the way up to thick biceps sloping into strong, broad shoulders that shift and contort as he guides the paddle.

What’s wrong with me? I’m not a guy-checker-outer. I mean, I notice an attractive face, but I never much cared about muscles. With Lewis, I’m very interested in every dip and masculine edge. It’s like he was built to draw my eye—my own personal eye candy, when I didn’t realize I had an eye candy type.

He steps off the board into ankle-deep water, towing board and paddle up the beach a few feet. Slipping out a cell phone sealed inside a Ziploc from the side pocket of his maroon board shorts, he taps the screen before returning it to his pocket and walking over.

I glance away. This close he’ll read everything on my face and know I’m checking him out. God, when did I become this girl?

My heart races so fast the sides of my vision blur. I dig my feet in the sand until the cold depth sends a shiver up my back, distracting me. It lasts for all of two seconds, until I sense him in front of me, and then my heart goes all jittery again.

“We were just talking about you,” Nessa says cheerily.

“Interesting, I was just thinking about you.” My gaze flickers to Lewis, his hair sticking up in the front, a light sheen on his chest from the sun and exertion. His board shorts sit low on his hips, every smooth abdominal muscle visible, including the thick ones that disappear into his clothes … I blink. I’m doing it again!

He’s staring, unsmiling, with a curious intensity in his eyes.

I glance at the horizon for grounding. Should I leave? Say I need to use the bathroom? This pull is infuriating—undeniable and addictive. And what if he brings up the other night? My humiliation will be complete.

Lewis looks up and raises his hand. Zach jogs toward us in navy board shorts, no shirt. Two women in bikinis, somewhat older, watch him pass. Zach’s not as tall as Lewis, but he’s cut like an athlete and good looking.

Lewis slaps Zach’s hand in the air and Zach ruffles the top of Nessa’s head. “Hey, kid.” He nods at me with a grin. “Gen.”

Nessa is hot in her tiny black bikini. Her frame is petite and she hasn’t an ounce of fat on her body, but Zach’s endearment is what a guy says to his sister, almost like he’s purposely putting her in the friend zone. Nessa told me once that she’s never dated Zach or his friends. It blows my mind that one of them hasn’t tried to hook up with her.

Lewis sits beside me, his warm arm brushing mine. My breath catches. “Feeling okay after the other night?”

Of course he brings it up.

I glance at him.
Big mistake.
Shoulders curled in, arms wrapped around his knees, his lips are inches from mine, the scent of sunscreen and Lewis penetrating my senses. His gaze drops and catches on my mouth. Because I’m staring at his? “Sorry about that.” I wipe the sand off my legs, keeping my hands busy. “I was a mess.”

He knocks my shoulder with his, which launches me into Nessa. It was a nudge, but he’s huge. Nessa rolls with the motion, intent on her Rum Runner conversation with Zach.

“You were funny,” Lewis says, concentrating on the lake, the corner of his mouth turned up.

“I doubt that.”

He reaches out his hand, palm up. “Let me see your phone.”

“Why?”

He blinks as if to say,
Don’t be difficult.
I dig for it in my tote and hand it to him. He scrolls to my contacts and I lean over, taking the opportunity to inhale because he smells amazing.

He types in a number.

“What’s that for?”

“Don’t drive home when—just call me next time. I work late. I’m always up. It’s not a big deal to give you a ride.”

Is he serious? “Um, I don’t need a chauffeur. I hardly ever get drunk.” Try never. I can’t remember the last time.

He shrugs. “Okay.” He looks serious and I can’t tell if he believes me or not.

“I’ll call if I need a ride.” Because, shit, he offered. Gorgeous guy picking me up and delivering me home in the middle of the night? I’m not going to turn that down. Which should worry me. I’m dropping my shields.

Lewis stands and pulls me up by the hand. “Come on.” He walks toward the beach.

Nessa and Zach are deep in conversation. “Where?” I call, certain I shouldn’t go anywhere with him, not even in public.

“Zach’s new paddleboard. We’re breaking it in today. I’ll take you for a spin.”

“Together?” The board looks narrow and he might as well be naked, given the amount of clothing he’s wearing and the direction of my thoughts.

“You sit. I’ll do the work.” He picks up the paddle and shoves the board off the beach until it bobs and sways in the light waves.

“I don’t have a bathing suit.”

He looks back. “You don’t trust me?” He’s asking in jest, as if I’m questioning his ability to keep me dry, but there’s a serious undertone, as though he knows I don’t trust him and he’s probing, drawing it out and into the open.

In some ways, I do trust Lewis, which is confusing. So many men haven’t deserved my trust, and especially not Lewis. But despite the fact that he’s in a relationship and has a tendency to flirt with me, I don’t think he’s a bad person. He seems like a hard worker and a good friend, and he puts up with Mira—the guy deserves a medal.

I stand, dumbly, not answering the question because no matter what I believe, this is not something I want to discuss.

Lewis holds the board in place with his foot. “Climb on your knees for balance.”

Against my better judgment, I actually do as he says. I slip off my shoes onto the dry sand, enter the water, and kneel on the board. We’re surrounded by families at the beach; what’s the worst that can happen? The surface sinks as Lewis steps on behind me. With each stroke of the paddle, we cut through the water until we’re beyond the dock and the ropes that block off the swimming area.

The water out here is darker, but clear. I can see the bottom of the lake, though that’s deceptive because I know it’s deep and dangerous.

“You want to give it a try?”

I glance back, but my gaze snags on his smooth chest before flittering to his face. I whip my head around before I get dizzy from the view and fall in the lake. Bracing my hands on the board, I slowly rise. Lewis inches closer, the heat from his body singeing my back. His arms loop over my head and he passes me the paddle.

“This thing’s not steady with two adults.” His hands drop to my hips. “I’ll hold on to you to keep us balanced.”

Now he tells me?

His low, deep voice above my ear, the spread of his fingers on my hips, has my arms shaking. I fight the sensation, because, dammit, I’m more coordinated than this, though you wouldn’t know it with him around. I adjust my grip and bend my knees into the shallow waves, making slow, steady progress.

Lewis’s fingers splay wider and tense with the rise of a large swell. Heat ripples through my stomach and thighs. “Where’s Mira?” I say irritably, focusing on his hands instead of the paddle.

He’s silent for a moment, the only acknowledgment he heard me, his fingers loosening. “Not sure.”

“You don’t know where your girlfriend is?”

“My what? Mira’s not my girlfriend … It’s complicated.”

Of course it’s complicated. I dip the paddle and move us out farther. “You don’t have to talk about it. I get it.”

“No, you don’t. Mira … She’s had it rough. I know she comes off testy sometimes, but she’s vulnerable and sweet when you know her.”

And he’s there to protect her, his beautiful not-a-girlfriend. God, why did I ask?

“To answer your question, I haven’t seen Mira for a couple of days.” His voice tightens. “I think she’s with her mother.”

That makes him angry, Mira being with her mother?

He clears his throat, but it’s forced, as if to change the subject. “What about you? What’s your family like?”

“My family?”
Not
getting into a conversation about Chantell. “Complicated.”

“I see.” His hands tighten on my hips again. A spear of arousal hits me in the sweet spot.

I spin around. “What’s up with you?”
Did I just say that?

He glances above my head. “You should keep—”

“Don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. You need to pay more attention to your ‘it’s complicated’ relationship and the signals you give off—
ooof.”

I’m falling. Onto Lewis.

This time, instead of catching me, he’s going down too.

I let go of the paddle a split second before it tangles with our bodies. The cold of the water stings my skin in counterpoint to the heat of Lewis’s chest as he envelops me in his arms. I cling to the devastating warmth at the same time I push it away, my instinct to kick to the surface stronger.

I breach the water a second before Lewis pops up, his head flinging back a spray. My teeth chatter. I’m gasping from shock, from cold.

He chuckles.

“This isn’t funny.”

His mouth turns down a fraction, but his smile doesn’t completely fade. He swims to me and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me to his warm chest.

I can’t catch my breath, and it has nothing to do with the water temperature and everything to do with the rightness of his body against mine. Why does he do this to me?

And how is he not freezing his balls off? His body is like a heater.

Lewis’s legs swish below mine to hold us up, the paddleboard drifting off. He swims us in the direction of shore, my body tucked above his like he’s my life raft.

“I can swim on my own.”

“Feel free to,” he says without releasing me.

I stay right where I am—wrapped in his arms. Pathetic, but shit, a woman is only so strong, and my man candy is
holding me.

After a couple minutes, his legs touch down, though it’s still too deep for me to stand. He gently pushes a lock of hair out of my mouth with the side of his palm, his gaze flickering over my face. “You okay?”

“No.” I’m embarrassed and unhappy about how his arms feel. I look in his eyes. He must see something there because his embrace tightens.

I might as well be naked. With my clothes soaking wet, I can make out every angle of him through the fabric plastered to me, so he must feel my body as well. “Sorry I made us fall. I should have paid attention.”

He lifts me higher out of the water. My boobs smash his chest, the roundness on full display thanks to the wet T-shirt contest I’m sporting. He grins. I swear he’s enjoying this. “Not a problem. I wanted to cool off.” The temperature of his body and the look in his eyes indicate that the water hasn’t done its job.

I smile, because I can’t not with him looking at me like that—all happy and goofy and so different from the stoic Lewis I’ve seen. I wrap my arms around his neck. What else am I gonna do? I can’t stand without my head going under. I could swim in, but that seems like a lot of effort. “It’s freezing.”

He runs a wide palm up and down my back, his smile fading, heated gaze scorching me, then flickering to my mouth.

What are we doing?

“The shore,” I choke. Get me alone with this guy and things happen. “We should dry off.”

After a noticeable pause, he nods and walks me in until I touch bottom.

“Gen—” I glance back. “—you’re wrong about me,” he says with sober eyes. “I know what you’re thinking and you’re wrong.” He dives into the water and swims toward the abandoned paddleboard and paddle.

What does that mean? I’m not wrong. I’ve seen this before. Shit, I’ve been in it before with the A-hole—well, not exactly this, but close enough. Though I have to admit, nothing has ever felt the way things do with Lewis. I wade the rest of the way to the beach, irritated and wet. He said Mira isn’t his girlfriend, but there’s something he’s not admitting to and with my luck, it’s worse.

Nessa glances up from her chat with Zach and her mouth parts. She stands abruptly and grabs my towel, jogging to the water’s edge. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Just cold.”

I don’t bother explaining what happened because that seems obvious. I wrap the Authentic Beach Bum Hawaii towel my mom bought me years ago around my shoulders.

I hate this towel, that’s why I keep it in the trunk. I should get rid of it and the memories it brings. My mom missed my elementary school graduation and end-of-year ballet performance because of her Hawaii trip. “I can’t renege, darling,” she’d explained to me at the time. “This is an important business trip.” I was too young to understand what that meant, but as I got older, I wondered about the kind of arrangements my mother had with the men she dated. They were all rich, powerful, and aloof. The man she traveled to Hawaii with wore expensive suits and barely registered my presence when he picked her up once a week for dates.