Small Town Scandal: A Wingmen Novel, page 16
Wearing her sunglasses with the pointy cat ears on them, her hair in two braids wrapped around her head, she’s adorable. In a striped, long-sleeved top and jean shorts, she’s not dressed sexy, but she is. Unintentionally and unbelievably hot. The best kind of sexy because she’s herself and not pretending.
“I’m certain at least one Greek and Roman god pretended to be a shepherd.” In spite of me getting us stuck, her tone is humorous and teasing.
“Shepherds are for sheep.”
“Huh. I never thought about it. Goatherd doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
“I’m stuck on you comparing me to a Greek god. Is it my amazing abs? Shoulders?” I duck my head closer to her. “Derriere?”
“You forgot fig leaf.” Her attention wanders down to my lap.
“As if. I’d need a giant hosta leaf at least. Maybe a banana leaf.”
She responds with giggles. “Why stop with a leaf? Maybe a juniper branch. Or a small cedar tree?”
“Small? I need a driftwood log.”
“Kind of huge to carry around.”
“Welcome to my life.”
Laughing so hard she rolls back onto the deck and almost falls off the boat, Ashley reminds me of her teenage self—carefree and a complete goofball.
“I’ve seen you naked, mister.”
“Then you know how I suffer on a daily basis.” I fight to keep from joining her laughter.
Unable to speak, she gasps for breath and waves her hands in my direction. “Stop,” she wheezes.
“I’m not sure how insulted I should feel right now.” I cross my arms and force a pout.
Wiping her eyes under her sunglasses, she manages to control her breathing enough to speak. “Your penis is fine. Stop fishing for compliments.”
“Fine? Fine? Sounds like you’re saying my love rod is adequate. Mediocre. Average. C grade manhood.”
She peers at me over her glasses. “Seriously? Are you insecure about the size of your dong?”
I lift an eyebrow. “Dong?”
“Whatever you’re calling it these days. What are you going to do about it if you think it’s small?”
“Small?” I cup myself over my jeans so my dick can’t hear her insult. “Whoa, now you’ve crossed a line.”
Resting her hand over mine, she adapts a serious tone. “Carter. I hate to be the one to tell you. The pills, creams, pumps, and whatever else the ads on the porn sites tell you to buy don’t work. You’re stuck with what the good Lord above gave you.”
“How do you know they don’t work?”
“If they did, wouldn’t there be more men walking around with giant dicks? Those Hammer pants would be all the rage instead of skinny jeans. Think about it. Men’s fashion would be revolutionized.”
As she spins her version of a world of huge dick pants, my mouth drops open. I stare at her full, deep rose lips as they form words. Her teeth are nearly perfect except for the slight overlap of one canine on its neighbor. I remember her braces in high school. I’m weirdly happy to see the tooth rebel from the straight line of her other teeth. Kind of like her refusal to conform. I’d never tell her this, but I love her stubbornness.
The dark tint of her lenses hides her eyes and I wonder if they’re bottle green or deep blue from the water.
“You’re not listening to me anymore, are you?” Her voice breaks through my thoughts.
I shake my head and slowly lift her glasses off her face, resting them on the crown of her head.
Deep, teal blue.
Her pale skin is rosy from the sun. I swear her freckles have multiplied.
I notice a pattern in the dots on her left cheekbone. Reaching out with my index finger, I trace the outline of a heart below her eye.
“Do I have something on my face?”
“No.” I flatten my palm, pressing it against her sun warmed skin.
Instead of jerking away or making a joke, she leans into my touch. Her lashes flutter before closing, hiding her eyes from my stare.
“Open your eyes,” I whisper.
She complies and squints into the bright sunlight. When I move closer, my head blocks the sun and she widens her eyes. I’m not sure if it’s because of the shadow or my proximity.
All I know is I’m going to kiss her in about two-point-five seconds.
She beats me to it. Her soft lips taste of salt from being on the water. I swirl my tongue with hers, tasting the sweetness of her mouth. Stretching across the cockpit isn’t ideal for kissing. My fingers grip her biceps and I draw her to my side and into my lap. There’s something about holding her weight and wrapping my arms around her—makes me feel like I can protect her from the world. I’m invincible when I hold her.
Shifting our bodies, I slowly lay her down on the padded bench cushion flanking the cockpit. We could climb down into the cabin for complete privacy, but I’m trying to be a gentleman. Because I’m an idiot.
“What is it about boats?” she whispers against my lips.
“It’s not the size of the boat, it’s the motion of the ocean?”
“Too much talking. More kissing.” She follows through with a scorching kiss, taking charge and stroking her tongue against mine.
Without breaking contact, she tugs me closer until my body lies stretched on top of her. Encouraging me by widening her legs, I settle between her hips.
Waves from another boat’s wake lap the side of the hull, gently rocking us as we explore and connect. Sun warms my back, but a different kind of heat builds between us. Her calves link behind my knees and her fingers dip into the back of my shorts.
Resting most of my weight on my elbows so I don’t crush her, I’m limited in where I can touch her. I cup her cheek and bury my fingers in her hair. It’s not enough contact. I need more.
“Roll over,” I whisper against her ear.
She unhooks her ankles and we awkwardly move to the side as the boat rolls with another set of waves. Finally, her knees straddle my hips and she’s above me. Her breasts press into my chest when she kisses me. My hands are free to roam her body, and I take full advantage of our new position.
“I think this might be heaven.” I kiss and nuzzle her neck.
She slowly rolls her hips against my thick erection. “Or sweet, torturous hell. What do you think the odds are we’d get arrested for being naked on a sailboat?”
Memories of getting caught as teenagers flash through my head, tossing cold water on my lust.
“Knowing our luck and track record, pretty high.” I groan as she nips my earlobe.
“Why are we out here and not somewhere more private?” Her hands run down my white T-shirt until she gets to the hem and then they skate underneath pausing over my ab muscles.
I clench and tighten my abs under her touch. “We’re sailing.”
“We’re adrift at sea. Seems like an obvious way to pass the time would be to have sex.” She shifts and encourages me to roll on top of her again. “You could drop anchor and we can move to the cabin where you can ravish me properly.”
I want her. But I don’t want our second first time to be here. Not in a sailboat. Or in front of a goat. Not in the back of my truck. Or a quick lucky fuck. My mind drafts an X rated Dr. Seuss book about sex.
A boat horn sounds twice off to our left. We pause, our lips a breath apart. The horn blasts again. My eyes flash to Ashley’s before I sit up on my haunches. Heading toward us is a fishing boat with a familiar man behind the wheel.
When John Day pulls alongside us and cuts his engine, he’s all friendly smiles. He’s wearing a #1 Dad T-shirt, unironically. “Thought I recognized the Donna Louise. You get stuck out here when the wind died?”
Ashley pops up. Her once neat braids have turned into twisted bird’s nests and her lips are puffy from my kisses.
There’s no way in hell he doesn’t know what we were doing sixty seconds ago, but he’s the kind of guy who some might call a true gentleman. I want to be him when I grow up. Or Dan, who’s like the island version of Batman or Iron Man, without the suit.
“Hi, Ashley. How are you?” His smile is warm and without judgment.
She greets him with a wave. “Good. You?”
“Good. Good. I’d like some more sleep, but Alene’s been teething and Diane has heartburn at night. Babe and I’ve been camping out downstairs on the couch.”
Normal, boring conversation. We’re sitting here in the middle of the Sound chatting about nothing.
“You need a tow back in? Or are you good to wait for the wind to come back?” His words sound innocent, but his lips curl with a knowing half-smile. “Suppose you can see where the tide takes you. My guess is you’ll end up on Hat Island before dinner.”
I glance at Ashley and shrug. “Your call.”
“I vote for dry land sooner rather than later.”
Both John and I catch her exaggerated wink. He at least pretends to miss it.
“Tow it is.” I hold out my hand for him to toss me the line.
While I’m busy tying us off, John works on his end. “Never got the motor working again?”
“It’s been giving us some trouble, but it works most of the time. When I remember to fill the diesel.”
“Most engines prefer fuel.” Shaking his head at my stupidity, he tightens his knot. “You want to ride back there or sit up here with me?”
“If you don’t mind, we’ll join you.”
Once we’re onboard, he starts the engine. “Where to?”
“We have a slip at the marina in Langley,” I answer him.
He turns the boat toward Whidbey.
We go slow and spend the short ride talking about goats, coffee, wood, and the upcoming fair next weekend. Not once does he bring up Ashley and I being together or mention Tom. John’s a good guy. One of the best.
I offer to buy him a beer at The Dog House to thank him, but he points at his cooler and tells me he needs to get his salmon home.
“I have two good size chinooks in there. If you want to take one, you should. I’m picking up the crab trap on the way home, so we’ll have more than enough.”
“You sure?” I ask.
“Of course. You’d do the same. We help each other out, share when we can. It’s the unspoken island code, right?”
“Damn straight. I’m not turning down fresh caught wild salmon,” Ashley interjects. “Thank you.”
“No problem. It’s nice to see you, Ashley. I think living on the island again suits you.” John gives her a friendly smile.
She returns it with one of her own. “Once an island girl, always an island girl. This place is like the Hotel California in that old song. You can never fully escape.”
“Why would you ever want to leave paradise?” I ask, holding my hand to my chest.
“I’m with Carter. If this isn’t heaven on earth, I don’t know what is.” John’s not normally a sentimental guy, but I think marriage and fatherhood have softened him.
Sure, the younger me couldn’t wait to get off the island and move anywhere not surrounded on all sides by water. Now I can’t imagine being landlocked and sitting in traffic to be trapped inside an office while daylight burns away outside. Wake up and repeat in an endless cycle while counting days until my two weeks of vacation. No way. I probably won’t become a millionaire on renting goats, but at some point money stopped being my goal. What am I going to do with all those zeroes in the bank? Buy more goats?
Erik’s offered to fund purchasing some land and I’m thinking about taking him up on it with the understanding I’ll pay him back someday.
We reach the dock and John drops us off with a bag of salmon on ice.
With a sigh, Ashley watches his boat disappear. “Is it me or is John Day the nicest guy on the island?”
“Someone have a crush on the lumberjack.” I should raise my hand because I totally have a bro crush.
“Who doesn’t?” She sighs again. “He’s the complete package.”
“Should I pretend to be jealous?”
“Probably.”
I can’t be bothered to even fake jealousy. If Ashley wanted to be with someone else, there’s nothing I could do to stop her. And why would I want to? Despite her reputation, I know she’d never try to break up a marriage. And I’m learning that I have nothing to worry about. With the way Ashley kisses me, the only man she wants to be with is me.
WE BRING THE salmon back to Dan’s with a silent understanding I’ll be staying for dinner. Maybe the whole night.
John cleaned the fish before giving it to us, saving me from revealing how squeamish I get around fish guts. They make me gag. He’s unknowingly saved the sexual tension brewing tonight.
We set up the grill and Ashley wanders around the big kitchen in search of plates and something to make to go with the salmon. Cat follows her like a tabby shadow.
“What are your thoughts about quinoa? Farro?” She’s standing with her hands on her hips in the walk-in pantry.
“Should I have an opinion?” Joining her, I study the shelves filled with fancy packages of weird foods.
“I think I have a bag of salad and maybe some corn in my fridge. Nothing gourmet.”
“Have you met me? You can skip the salad and I’d be happy.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.” She goes out the front door and across the drive to her temporary house. Dan and Roslyn’s place is bigger than any other house I’ve been in, but they’ve managed to make it feel homey and comfortable with warm wood and leather furniture in the main rooms. Not at all like the Wayne mansion I imagined bachelor Dan living in all alone.
Ashley returns with a couple ears of corn, a bag of salad, bottle of ranch dressing, and a loaf of bread. “This is everything I have. Except the half empty jar of almond butter and container of expired Greek yogurt.”
“We can make this work. I’ll grill the fish and corn. You pour lettuce in a bowl and add dressing. Can you handle making the garlic bread?”
She wrinkles her nose and smirks at me. “Funny. Go be a caveman and cook me some fish on the fire.”
The smell of garlic and butter wafts out the door when I finish with the fish and corn. Cat’s loitering around the grill waiting for some salmon to fall from the sky. I may accidentally on purpose drop a few bites on the ground for her.
Inside the kitchen, Ashley dances around to the Ramones. Holding the platter of food, I pause in the doorway to watch her.
“Ooh ooh ooh,” she sings along with the backup vocals to “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend,” not caring she’s off-key.
She notices me when she pulls the bread out of the oven. “Oh.”
“Don’t let me stop you. I love the Ramones. And I agree with Joey. I do want to be your boyfriend.” After setting down the tray, I envelop her in my arms and kiss her neck.
“Too late. I’ve already said yes to Joey.”
“Too bad he’s dead.” I kiss along her jaw and she angles her head to give me more access.
Her eyes are soft when they meet mine. “I always preferred baseball players to guys in the band.”
“Oh, really?”
She hums and wraps her arms around my waist, her fingers sliding under my shirt to touch my back. “Must be your stamina. All that constant thinking about baseball. Plus, you look cute in your cap with the brim curved. I remember your lucky hat. Do you know I wanted to steal it and make you kiss me to get it back? I had the biggest crush on you.”
Her words and her hands on my skin flips a switch. I shift us so she’s against the counter and then cage her with my arms. We pick up where we left off on the boat. Alone in the house, there’s nothing to stop us, no reason to put on the brakes.
Except having sex in our friend’s kitchen.
I bend my legs and lift her by her thighs, encouraging her to wrap her legs around me when I stand.
She giggles as I pick her up. “What are you doing? Dinner?”
“We can reheat it.” I march us toward the front door.
After a brief fumble with the lock, I get us through the doorway and across the narrow drive without dropping her. Not easy considering she’s kissing the smooth skin behind my ear and nipping at my earlobe, her warm breath sending pulses of lust through my body.
I practically kick down her door to get us inside.
“Where’s your bed?” I whisper against her mouth.
“Upstairs. First door on the right.”
I stumble up the stairs, Ashley bouncing and giggling when I nearly fall at the top.
The bedroom is small and white. I couldn’t describe much else. My only focus is on the bed.
I practically throw Ashley down before I climb over her.
“What happened to waiting? To being patient and all the other stuff you’ve been telling me?” She scrambles up the mattress until she rests her head on the pillows.
“A man only has so much willpower.” I kiss a line along her jaw and down to my favorite place where her neck meets her shoulder.
“Finally.” The word comes out as a breathy exhale. “I thought you were enjoying torturing me. I was about to start begging.”
“Hmmm, I might like to hear you beg.” I shift my weight to my heels. “I really love the idea of you desperate for me.”
“Carter . . .” Her tone holds a warning.
“Mmm.” I bite my bottom lip as I study her. “First, we’re going to need to lose your shirt.”
“Take yours off first.” She tugs at the hem of mine.
Reaching behind my head, I tug it off. “Done.”
Her fingertips run over my chest and down to my abs. “I like these.”
I grin down at her. “Shirt. Off.”
“So bossy.” She wiggles her arms out of the sleeves and shoves the fabric over her head. Her shirt joins mine in a heap on the floor.
Her white lace bra is all innocence and temptation. I bite the tiny pink bow resting between her full breasts with my teeth. It’s like wrapping on a present: pretty, but not the good stuff. I kiss the border between lace and skin. Letting my scruffy beard gently scrape her softness, I place an open kiss on her dark rose nipple through the lace, sucking it into my mouth and feeling it harden against my tongue.
