Perfectly Charming (A Morning Glory Novel Book 2) (9 page)

“You’re going to hide from this,” he said, his eyes assessing her.

“From what?”

“Me and you.”

Jess sucked in a breath and thought about what to say. Part of her wanted to touch him and find out if there were sparks between them. Part of her wanted to shoot him down and eliminate any chance for anything more than friendship. Just be honest. “I don’t know if I’m ready for anything more than what we’re doing now.”

His smile weakened, and something in his eyes softened. “You’re still not over him?”

Jess pursed her lips. “Look, saying that isn’t a cop-out or an admission of still being in love with Benton. I’m trying to get my land legs, I guess. The thing I struggle with the most is wondering why things turned out the way they did. I had a plan.”

“So did I,” Ryan said, tracing a rivulet of condensation on his glass. No more lightness. His words echoed her thoughts.

“I guess neither one of us got what we thought we would,” she said.

“But what if that’s for the best?” Ryan said, lifting his gaze to hers. “What if you can have something better than you thought you’d get? You don’t know. Life may have thrown you a curveball, but that doesn’t mean you step out of the batter’s box.”

“Baseball analogies from the science student of the year?”

“I have a rudimentary knowledge of the sport. It helps me assimilate to my environment.”

Jess couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You’re amazing.”

Ryan showed her his teeth again. “Why, thank you.”

Cindy bumped into their table as she docked. “Okay, Ryan’s getting a cheeseburger, no onion, and a side of fries. What can I get you, darlin’?”

“I’ll take the chef’s salad—go light on the bacon,” Jess said.

“Safe choice,” Ryan said.

She suspected his words weren’t just for her meal.

Was she too chicken to open herself up to a potential relationship? Or was she being who she’d always been? Jess didn’t toss reason out the door when it came to decisions. She was always careful. Always safe. And that had gotten her heartache.

“For now,” she said.

Chapter Seven

Ryan cut the limes in half and sprinkled the juice on the tuna steak, one of his favorite fish to grill for tacos. He’d bought the corn tortillas from a lady who supplied a high-end Mexican restaurant and the cilantro and peppers from the farmers’ market. The tuna had been caught yesterday on an all-day jaunt out near the oil platforms. Nothing fresher than tuna that had been swimming the day before.

He whistled an old Broadway song from
Guys and Dolls
, congratulating himself on a perfect idea for late Saturday afternoon. A small cool front had pushed down, bringing slightly cooler temps and making it a perfect day for tossing an anchor into the water and having a boat party. He’d invited Jess, of course, and—

“Ryan?” she called from the dock.

He left the fish marinating in the galley and stuck his head out. Jess stood with Morgan and her friend Becky on the dock, holding a beach bag and a plastic sack with what looked to be tortilla chips.

“Hey, ladies, welcome aboard the
Beagle
. Drop your bags and grab a beer,” Ryan said, gesturing to the freshly washed deck.

Jess eyed him. “
Beagle
, huh? Wasn’t that the name of Charles Darwin’s boat?”

Ryan lifted a shoulder. So he’d named his boat after Darwin’s research vessel. Hey, you could take the geek out of the lab, but you couldn’t take the lab out of the geek. “Don’t know. I had a dog that was a beagle. I wasn’t going to go with Peanut for my boat’s name. No one would want to fish on a boat named
Peanut
.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Jess said, taking his hand as he helped her aboard. She looked good, but then she’d always suited him with her long limbs and wild curls. Both Becky and Morgan wore bikini tops paired with athletic shorts and flip-flops. Conversely, Jess wore a T-shirt, tennis skirt, and sneakers. Her sex appeal wasn’t the blown-up obvious type. She dressed like a lady who didn’t like to show the goods, which of course made Ryan want very much to see those goods. Some girls knew how to build anticipation. “I brought some beer and chips. Not much of a cook, but I can use my credit card.”

“Come with me, and we’ll put them in the galley.” He turned to Becky and Morgan. “Ladies, make yourselves comfortable. I have a few of my friends from the marina coming, too. Oh, and my friends Francine and Max . . . if they can get a sitter for their four-year-old. We’ll shove off in half an hour or so.”

He headed back to the galley. Jess followed, setting the chips and six-pack of craft beer on the small counter. Looking around, she said, “I like your boat.”

And I like everything about you, Jess Culpepper.

But he didn’t say that. Because he’d spooked her a bit a few nights ago at the diner by flat-out asking if he had a shot with her. He should have remembered how Jess had always been. Back in high school, she’d been a measure twice, pour once chemistry partner. Jess was confident, but it took her a while to get there. Once she made a decision, she held on with both hands, which was why letting go of that jackass Benton Mason seemed to be hard for her. So Ryan wouldn’t push anything between them. He preferred an organic approach. If something happened, it happened. He’d be more than happy to scratch any itches she had. But if they never progressed past friendship, he’d live. But he didn’t want to. Because he wanted her . . . in his arms, on his lips, in his bed, enveloping all his senses.

But if he had any shot of making it a reality, he’d have to be patient. Practice being a friend. That had been in chapter fifteen of
How to Get Girls Without Even Trying
, one of the books he’d studied when he’d decided to become the cool version of Ryan. The writer implied a modern man had to know when to press a woman for more and when to pull back and give space. With Jess, he’d definitely employ the pullback philosophy.

“Thank you. She’s a good boat,” he said, opening the small fridge and nestling the six-pack inside. “Want one now?”

“Not yet. Morgan made to-go margaritas, and I had one on the way over.”

“She makes good margaritas. She was a bartender once.”

“Well, it
was
good,” she said, turning and watching as Morgan and Becky slathered themselves with suntan oil. “Are they actually putting oil on themselves? Becky should know better. She’s a nurse.”

“Knowing better doesn’t seem to stop people. I saw three nurses standing outside the hospital smoking.”

“I know. What’s with that? And really, I’m acting like an old maw-maw. And I sound like my mother. God help me.” Jess walked over and whisked the hulls of the used limes into the small bag he had tied to the drawer handle. “What kind of boat is this? Can you sleep on this thing? Or is it just for fishing?”

“It’s a forty-six-foot Newton, customized specifically for charter fishing, but we have a few bunks down there”—he jabbed his thumb behind him—“for overnight fishing trips.”

“You go out overnight?”

He nodded, pleased she was interested. He’d had a few girls on the boat before, but none had ever seemed interested in the boat. They liked the sunsets, the sunbathing, and the sex on the deck with no one but God and a few seagulls watching. But none had asked about his boat. “For tuna trips and whatnot. Have to get at least sixty miles out to catch them. I went out to a few platforms yesterday and caught this. Well, a few bankers caught this. I kept one.”

“That’s interesting. Must have a big engine.”

The way she said it made it sound sexy. Or maybe he was reading too much into everything, because once again, like that skinny thirteen-year-old kid, he was crushing on her. “It’s decent. I can get it up to twenty-eight knots.”

“I don’t even know what that means. I’ll assume that’s fast. Can I help you do anything? I can chop or peel.”

“No, enjoy yourself. I actually like cooking. I like the monotonous rhythm of chopping onions and”—he lifted a small basket of grape tomatoes—“these babies.” Lord, he was being weird, talking about fruit, calling them babies. Good Lord.

Morgan poked her head inside, saving him from any other asinine comments. “Some dudes just parked in the shell lot. Think they could be your friends. Thought you’d want to know.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right out.” He’d invited Logan Yount, an accountant and avid fisherman, and Marcus Geyer, another boat captain, to join them for fish tacos and a sunset cruise. Probably a little OCD of him, but he liked round numbers of people. Made sense.

“Wait, this isn’t a setup, is it?” Jess asked, rising and looking unsettled.

“No. I thought Becky might like Marcus. He’s funny and very flirty. Seems her type.” Ryan covered the tuna he’d rubbed with garlic and ran water over his hands.

“Is the accountant for me?”

Ryan jerked his gaze to Jess. “God, I hope not.”

Jess’s hair was in a ponytail and big hoop earrings hung at her earlobes. She wore very little makeup—a little gloss and maybe some mascara. She looked naturally gorgeous in a Jennifer Lopez sort of way. He’d be damned if he let Logan lay one pale, number-crunching finger on her.

Jealousy was a junkyard dog that sank its teeth into him.

Ryan shook off the ridiculous urge to shove everyone off his boat and jet away with just Jess. Patience. That’s what he needed, so he pasted on a casual smile and stuck his head out to find Marcus and Logan stepping onto the boat. “Hey, guys. This is Morgan and Becky.” He pointed to each of the now glistening women.

Marcus and Logan both wore shades, but he could see the approval in the way they said hello to the ladies.

His phone vibrated, and he looked down at the text before glancing back up at his friends. “Drop your beer in the ice chest. Marc, if you’ll untie us, I’ll fire up the boat. Just got a text that Frannie and Max can’t make it. No sitter.”

Jess appeared at his elbow and gave a wave to the newcomers. “Hi, guys. I’m Jess. I work with Becky and live next door to Morgan.”

After all the how-do-you-dos were said, Jess followed him back to the galley, which pleased him. He wanted her to want to be with him.

“So how come you didn’t want me to put my beer in the cooler?” she asked.

“Because I knew you’d bring the good stuff, and Logan is an accountant.”

“And?”

Ryan grinned. “He brings cheap beer. Have you ever met an extravagant accountant?”

Jess tilted her head. “Actually, no.”

“It’s because they don’t exist.” Ryan waved his hand like a magician in front of Jess’s face, making her giggle. Which was something he’d never seen before. The Jess he remembered—and the sad one who’d walked with him on the beach over a week ago—didn’t giggle.

“You’re a funny guy, Ryan. How come I never knew this?” Jess said, sliding by him, obviously planning on going back outside with the rest of the party. Her body brushed against his back, and he almost stepped back, pinning her against the side of the cabinet just so he could feel her fully against him . . . so she wouldn’t leave him.

Which was insanity.

“Because I was too busy trying to be invisible? And being around you made me extra nervous,” he said.

“But no longer, huh?” Jess said, slipping out onto the boat deck with the others. Ryan headed for the captain’s chair, trying to affirm her words within himself. Fading into the background, while often comfortable, wouldn’t get him what he wanted—a life. So, yeah, he no longer tried to be invisible, and he was no longer nervous around women.

Five minutes later he pulled the
Beagle
away from the marina and motored out into the bay. Behind him, his guests sprawled on the cushioned benches, sipping cold beer and enjoying the wind on their faces and the sun on their shoulders. And this pleased Ryan. He liked having people with him. Sometimes. Like on days like this when he moved his boat across the still waters bathed gold by the sun. The salty tang on his tongue harkened to olden times when sailors found respite in the swish of the waters against a hull. Days like today scrubbed away any residual doubt he’d made the right decision when he stood in his apartment and declared himself done with being Dr. Ryan Reyes, researcher, scientist, and Comic-Con annual pass holder. The boat skimming the waters, racing along the infinite horizon, was like poetry, giving him something he’d lacked in his life.

Clarity.

After twenty minutes of cruising along Santa Rosa Sound, he entered the pass into the Intracoastal Waterway and motored into Big Lagoon. When he neared Redfish Point, he killed the engines and dropped the anchor. It was the perfect place to bob on the Gulf and use the grill he’d installed in the galley.

“It’s so pretty out here,” Becky said, crossing her legs and tossing back her shoulders, giving her best Playboy Bunny impression. Jess sat with her legs pulled to her, long arms looped around her knees. The guys sprawled, tanned legs stretched, visors shielding their faces. Morgan lay on one bench seat and looked asleep.

“Morgan?” he called.

She stirred and yawned. “Out too late last night.”

The sun was a good hour and a half away from sinking into the waters. “I’m going to cook the tuna and set out the chips and salsa. Y’all want to swim?” he asked.

The girls shook their heads. The guys kicked off their flip-flops and dived overboard.

“You can swim over to the dunes. Beach is on the other side,” Ryan said to the girls.

“We’ll just hang here and watch those morons get eaten by a shark or something,” Becky drawled, cracking open another Coors Light. Obviously Marcus had been classy enough to buy Coors. Last time he’d brought Natty Light.

Just after Becky said the word
shark
, a fin appeared. Jess’s eyes widened, and she pointed. “Oh my God,” she breathed.

“Dolphins,” Ryan said, smiling.

“Oh yeah. Of course.” Jess looked embarrassed. Which was cute.

Marcus and Logan tried to swim out to play with the squeaking sea friends, but the dolphins were having none of it. Ryan went back into the galley and started heating the corn tortillas in the microwave. He could hear the girls chatting, a soft, higher-pitched pleasantness that was sweet accompaniment to his preparations. He wished Jess would come back inside and talk to him, but he’d given her no real reason to do so. He was giving her space. Even if he wanted to crowd her, gather her to him, kiss the hell out of her.

A few days ago, she’d made it clear she wasn’t ready to go where he wanted to go. Yet. So he’d backed off, and they’d spent a pleasant evening talking about her friend Rosemary, who’d recently become engaged to a guy who was opening a pizza place in Morning Glory. They chatted about their ten-year reunion. She had been a committee member; he’d not bothered to attend. Wasn’t like anyone missed him. Then they’d talked about
Dr. Who
, Celtic music, and his work at Caltech. With Jess, he didn’t have to guard against his inner nerd showing. He could talk passionately about his comic book collection, and she could mention people from back home without have to explain their neuroses or give background. It had been the easiest nondate he’d ever been on.

They’d driven back to Del Luna with the top down, stars twinkling above them, and all he could think of as they blew past condos, beach restaurants, and the state park was how much he wanted to taste her. Her hair blew back, whipping, occasionally brushing his cheek. She smelled like summer—coconut and vanilla. Her sundress moved up and down her firm thighs and the soft cotton molded her breasts. A necklace with a silver turtle charm hung down, brushing the neckline, teasing his thoughts. Her wide mouth curved when he turned up “Peaceful Easy Feeling” by the Eagles and started singing along. It should have been foreplay.