Fluke, page 17
“We’re here today and tomorrow. We leave on Thursday.”
What? “I thought we had like four days or something?”
“There were a few scheduling conflicts. Every hotel and rental is booked from this weekend basically through the end of the month. There are different groups coming in or something. I don’t know. It didn’t matter to me, so I didn’t lodge that information in my head.”
I kiss her temple.
“You know what?” she asks.
“Huh?”
“I think I was really onto something with this retreat thing.” She sighs with more contentedness than I’ve ever heard from her before. “Doesn’t just being away make you feel different? I mean, I’m happy at home. I don’t have marital issues or anything like that, and I still feel like a weight is off my shoulders here.”
I rest my chin on the top of her head and smile. “Truthfully, I feel this way at home, too, if you’re there with me.”
She swats at my leg, making me chuckle. But before she pulls her hand away, she gently presses her fingers against my thigh.
And that’s it—that right there. That’s the juxtaposition that is Pippa Plum.
That’s why I keep falling harder for her.
Pippa is feisty and full of energy. She’s quick with a comeback and stands on her own two feet. But beneath all that moxie and strength is a woman with vulnerabilities—a woman who deserves someone to give her what she gives into the world.
And I want to be that guy.
I am that guy.
I just have to convince her to trust me enough to accept it.
She slides away from me and although I hate to, I let her go.
“I have a few things set up for us to do while we’re here,” she says, heading back to the entryway. “But if there’s something you want to do, we can totally change it.”
“Nah, I’m just here with you.”
She tries to grab her suitcase, but I get it first.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” I say, making a face at her.
She laughs. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to having my own private butler.” She follows me into the bedroom, checking out the bathroom while I set our things in the closet. “Look at this tub. My gosh.”
I glance over her head at an oversized, jetted bathtub.
“That thing is huge,” I say. “I wonder how well they had to reinforce the floor to hold that weight.”
“What? Is it going to fall through?”
“No.” I laugh. “I’m just saying from a builder’s perspective, that it’s something they’d have to consider.”
She looks at me.
“What?” I ask.
“I never would’ve thought about that.” She faces me, smirking. “But you know what I would think about?”
“What’s that?”
“You sitting on the edge while I’m kneeling in the water, sucking your cock until you come in my mouth.”
I clench my teeth. “Keep it up, and we’ll do it now.”
“Can’t do it now.” She grins coyly and breezes beside me. “We have an appointment and then dinner reservations after that.”
I hold up my hands, frazzled, as the heaviness in my groin deepens. Damn her. I adjust myself as I follow her.
“We’re supposed to go paddleboarding in a couple of hours,” she says, opening her suitcase. “Well, we can do that, or we can rent a glass-bottomed kayak.”
“Can I fuck you in the kayak?”
She grins. “Probably not. I’m pretty sure you’d flip us with your … enthusiasm.”
“You’d definitely scare the wildlife with the way you scream.”
Her cheeks flush, and she looks away. So damn beautiful.
My pocket buzzes, so I take out my phone. An alert is on the screen that my back door has been breached.
I quickly enter my code, so the police aren’t called. And, just as I expect, Banks walks in like he owns the place.
“That little motherfucker,” I say, shaking my head. “He didn’t even wait.”
Pippa looks up, confused. “Who didn’t wait for what?”
I lower my phone so she can see what I’m seeing. Banks heads to the fridge and takes out a bottle of orange juice. He forgoes a glass, drinking it straight from the jug while getting comfortable on the couch.
She snorts. “He’s saving you dishes.”
I roll my eyes.
“Did you really not expect him to do this?” she asks, plucking a green bikini, tank, and shorts from her suitcase.
I smirk. Yes. I. Did.
Despite the frustration with my brother over his refusal to stay the fuck out of my house, there’s satisfaction that comes along with it. He shouldn’t be so damn predictable.
I walk into the bedroom, my fingers flying over the phone screen.
“Jess …” Pippa draws my name out like she’s concerned. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Jess …”
I open an app, click a button. Open an email, click another button. Go back to the app and scroll through and exit.
Take that, you little shit.
Pippa stands, holding her garments. “Do I want to know what that was about?”
“You’ll find out. Just give it a day or two.”
She eyes me suspiciously.
My laugh is full of mischief as I wrap my arm around her and pull her into me. “What do you need? What can I do right now that would make your day better?”
Her head falls back, and she looks up at me with disbelief and confusion.
“What?” I ask.
“Let me ask you a question. If you could design the perfect day, what would it entail?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, but this one is pretty fucking good.”
She shakes her head.
“I’m a simple man, Pip.” I pause, waiting for her to respond. But she doesn’t. “You don’t believe me?”
“I can’t figure out if you’re … how serious you are.”
“Are you serious?” I ask. She can’t be. I tell her the same thing repeatedly.
“About what?”
I press a kiss against her lips, pulling back before she can deepen it. She’s not going to sidetrack me, and I know my breaking point. Namely, her tongue. I release her before going into the bathroom and turning on the oversized shower.
“Am I serious about what?” she asks, coming into the bathroom too.
I peel off my shirt.
She stands quietly, watching me undress. It’s almost as if she feels cornered, which is not at all what I want. But I do need her to know I mean what I say. I’ll be damned if something goes awry because she assumed I wasn’t serious.
That’s bullshit.
“Pippa,” I say, her name a whole damn sentence.
“Jess.”
Her attitude makes me chuckle.
“Fine,” she says, tossing the clothes in her hand on the sink. “I hear you say all kinds of things. But there’s more to your dreams than me—even if I am your dream girl.” She rolls her eyes.
I shove my hand under the water and then adjust the temperature.
“What are the other elements of a perfect day?” she asks, peeling off her shirt.
Little minx. I turn my back to her. “Why does this matter?”
“It just does.”
I sigh as I drop my shorts onto the floor. “Fine. My perfect day would be sleeping in a little—but not too much because then I get a headache. No line at Muggers and they get my coffee right. Come home, maybe we make breakfast. French toast and bacon with real maple syrup, so you don’t make me come back and answer that.”
I catch her reflection in the mirror. She grins, unsnapping her bra.
Nope. Not yet. I look away. “Clean up the kitchen because Mom’s palmetto bug warnings live inside my head rent-free.”
She laughs.
“Then … I don’t know, Pippa. What do you want to do? Watch a football game? Work on the house? Go shopping? I don’t care. I really don’t. I’d take you out to dinner, though, to build the tension so when I get you home, you’re all hot and wet for me. Then I can get all the way inside you before we go to bed.”
I keep my back to her, waiting for her to fire back another question. But when a full minute goes by and she says nothing, I turn around.
She’s naked, her hair piled on top of her head. She’s a fucking vision.
My mouth grows dry and I fight myself not to go to her. I don’t know what all of this was about, but it’s important to her. So we’ll do this until she’s satisfied.
Then she’ll be satisfied.
“You could replicate every day for the rest of your life, and you’d be happy?” she asks, her eyes sparkling. “Truly?”
“I mean, I might want some variation because French toast is good, but I also like blueberry muffins.”
Her grin spreads until it’s splitting her cheeks. “There’s nothing else? Even if in ten years—”
“If I have you ten years from now and I live in a box on the beach with sand crabs snapping my toes while I sleep, I’ll be one happy and lucky motherfucker.”
She launches herself into my arms. I catch her, chuckling, and capture her lips just as they land on mine.
My tongue plunges into her mouth, taking ownership of it and her.
“We have a little over an hour to get to the paddleboarding place,” she says between kisses. “Can I make a request?”
I pull my head back to see naughtiness spelled out on her face. Fuck. I roll my hips into her, letting her feel how hard I am.
“Request away,” I say.
“Bend me over and fuck me quick and hard. Make me sore.”
I flip off the water and snatch her up off the floor. She squeals as I carry her into the bedroom.
My girl asks, my girl receives.
20
PIPPA
“Do you think it’s a bad sign that we’re the only people out here?” I ask, laughing nervously.
Jess paddles next to me. “Well, it’s late in the day on a Tuesday. That probably explains it.”
I move my paddle through the water, working to keep my balance on the board. It’s both easier and harder than I imagined it would be. The man working the boathouse was shocked that I’ve lived in Florida my whole life and have never used a paddleboard. Why do outdoorsy people always assume everyone else likes the outdoors too? So weird.
“What happens if I fall off here?” I ask.
Jess smiles. “You climb back on.”
“That’s it?”
His laugh echoes through the forest. “What are your other options, Pip?”
“I don’t know.” I glance around the water. “I’m just mildly panicking.”
“How can you be panicking when you’re the one that set this up?”
I glare at him, which only makes him laugh harder. “I didn’t think this through, okay? Like announcing I had an ex-husband when, in fact, I didn’t. Sometimes I’m impulsive and get in over my head.” I peer into the green-blue water again. “I just hope I’m not in there over my head.”
“I will fight an alligator for you. You’ll be fine.”
My quick turn toward Jess wobbles the board. My heart leaps and I squeal as I steady myself.
“Stop it,” he says, holding out a hand.
I brush my fingertips against his but then pull them back. “I’m fine. This is fine. We’re going to be fine.”
We float down the river, growing farther away from the boathouse. With every minute that passes, the quieter it gets and the prettier it becomes.
The foliage on either side is thick and green. The water is surprisingly clear and the most beautiful, transparent teal color that looks otherworldly. Fish jump ahead of us. Birds squawk overhead. And beside me is a man who puts it all to shame.
Wearing bright blue board shorts, a white tank that highlights his muscled arms and golden skin, and a pair of aviators, Jess belongs on the cover of a magazine. Or in a porno.
“Hey, look at that.” He points at the water. “See that?”
I lean forward to get a better look. “Is that a manatee?”
“Yeah.” He smiles. “Cool, huh?”
“Yeah. It is.”
“There’s another one.”
We drift across the water, using our paddles to go around the beautiful creatures. It’s much less taxing than I feared. The current carries us with little effort.
“You feeling better over there?” Jess asks.
“Yes. The manatees look pretty defenseless, so if they can live in here, surely I can paddle for a couple of hours on top of it.”
He grins. “What else have you never done that you’ve wanted to do?”
“I’ve never been to the Pacific Northwest.”
“That’s easily fixable.”
“I’ve never had crème brûlée,” I say. “I was watching a food show and they took their spoons and cracked the top—the crack was so satisfying.”
Jess laughs. “You are so easily entertained.”
“Lucky for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He grins as he paddles toward me. “Are you implying that I’m not working hard enough to entertain you, Miss Plum?”
His predatory gaze and sexy smirk send a chill racing through my body. It pools in the bottom of my core, making me clench.
The warm air is tempered by the trees overhead blocking the sun. Instead of the intense rays burning my skin, filtered sunlight casts a warm, happy glow over the river.
This definitely needs to go on the retreat menu.
“What’s the bar for entertainment?” he asks. “What scale are you using to measure? Am I competing with Vibe Jess?”
“I measure with my heart.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
I try to keep a straight face but fail. I giggle, paddling until my board is floating next to his. “Kiss me.” I pucker, leaning far enough over the side to reach him but not too far where I feel like I’ll swim with the manatees.
“Oh, you think you can demand kisses now?”
“Well, you sure as hell don’t deny me when I ask for other things.”
His eyes sparkle as he grins, leaning toward me. “You’re damn right I don’t.”
His lips touch mine. It’s brief and sweet but also … not.
My stomach flutters as Jess pulls away, and I’m left watching him and wondering why that just felt different.
“Hey,” he says, dragging his paddle. “Look up there.”
“Where?” I follow his gaze into the trees on my right. “What the fuck is that?”
“Monkeys.”
“Monkeys?” My voice is high, almost chirpy, and the sound causes the monkey to smack its lips. “Why is it doing that?”
“It’s just doing monkey things.”
My heart thumps as I try to wrap my brain around what I’m seeing. “There are monkeys in Florida? How did I not know that?”
Jess shrugs, amused at my reaction.
“There are more of them.” I watch as three others join the first monkey on a branch at the edge of the water. “They aren’t going to attack us or anything, are they?”
“Probably not.”
“Probably not?”
The troop begins to make noise, growing louder and louder as we float by.
“They might if you keep acting like you’re calling for a fight,” he says.
I look over my shoulder. “Can they swim?”
“Very well.”
Fuck. “No, they cannot.”
“Fine. They can’t.” He grins. “But they can. And they have Herpes B so if they grab you …” He grimaces. “Not sure I’ll fight them for you.”
I gasp, making him laugh.
“See? We’re by them and they didn’t do anything to you,” he says.
I paddle more into the middle of the river. “If I’d have known there were monkeys in Florida, I would’ve picked another adventure.”
“There aren’t supposed to be, but a boat captain released a few of them on an island out here to help tourism. And, unsurprisingly, they had babies.”
“I’m shocked.”
He shrugs like I’m the only person in the world that didn’t know they were here.
We float without incident for a long time. We spot a couple of turtles and some fish. Jess saw an alligator but smartly didn’t tell me until we were well past it.
The sound of the trickling water and the soothing colors of the environment are equivalent to a massage. Stress melts from my body; my mind rests. Maybe I could be an outdoorswoman after all.
“What would your perfect day entail?” Jess asks out of nowhere.
“Where did that come from?”
He shrugs. “You asked me earlier, so now I’m asking you.”
Fair enough.
Very carefully, just like the instructor at the boathouse showed us, I crouch down and then sit in the middle of the board. I rest the paddle across my knees.
Jess looks at me over his shoulder. “Look at you being fancy.”
“I know.”
He sits too. “It was really me asking you about your perfect day, wasn’t it?”
“Why would that have anything to do with me sitting down?”
“Because you associate a perfect day with being on your back.”
I snort.
He drags his paddle, effectively slowing him until he’s next to me again. “So answer my question. Your perfect day?”
I raise my face to the sky and breathe in until my lungs strain. Then I blow it out until there’s nothing left.
“My perfect day would start with sleeping in—at least until ten,” I say.
“That’s half the day.”
“Hey, this is my perfect day. You had yours.”
He holds up his hands in defense.
“Thank you.” I clear my throat. “There would be coffee and breakfast waiting for me—probably a chocolate croissant or just a croissant with Nutella on it. Oh, also, a fruit and yogurt parfait. I love those things.”
Jess grins.
“Then I’d open all the windows in the house, and it wouldn’t be too hot outside,” I say. “Then I’d take a bath and do all the things that I never have time to do.”
“Like what?”
“Exfoliate. Double wash my hair. Properly condition it. Mani-pedi. Apply one of the twenty lotions in my cabinet all over my body and then kill time with …”
