Surrender (Seaside Pictures Book 4) Page 6

  Though my emotions still churned, I exhaled.

  “Plus, I mean, I left the ring at home so—”

  I drove my elbow back, connecting with his stomach. He let out a grunt and then laughed again.

  His teasing made me smile, but it was his warmth that had me feeling safe, as if maybe, just maybe, I could let loose a little bit and simply enjoy the wind on my face, the way his body wrapped around mine protectively — something I’d never once in my life experienced, not even when I had been married. Maybe I could enjoy the laughter around me and not constantly wonder where it all had gone wrong in my life, how I’d been brought to this moment in time — almost forty, with kids nearly grown — wishing I could have at least once experienced the sort of romantic love people wrote songs about, fought for, maybe even died for.

  The sun finally disappeared below the horizon, blanketing us in dusk, and the temperature immediately dropped a few degrees.

  I didn’t want to move, but I knew we needed to build a fire, so I reluctantly started pulling away only to have Drew keep me locked in place. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t finished watching.”

  Huh? Confusion clouded my mind, and I shifted to get a look at him, but he held me in place. “But… the sun set already…”

  “You think I was watching the sun the whole time? How adorably wrong.” His nose trailed down my neck up and down, and then his teeth nipped my ear, causing shivers to erupt all over my skin. “I was watching you watch it, and I’ve never seen anything so awe-inspiring as a gorgeous woman watching the sunset for what seems like the first time.”

  My knees literally felt like they were going to turn to jelly.

  How do you even respond to that?

  Ask him how much longer?

  Kiss him senseless?

  I am in way over my head, aren’t I?

  I mean, I’d barely dated my ex before our parents forced us to get married.

  I gulped and kept my eyes staring straight ahead.

  “I’ve made you uncomfortable,” he murmured. “You should probably get used to it because I don’t really have a censor, especially around you, and I don’t think I should have to stop myself from telling you how beautiful you really are. Maybe one day, you’ll actually believe me.”

  He slowly wrapped the blanket tighter around me then left me standing there, wondering what the hell had just happened.

  The smell of fire burned my nostrils a few minutes later. I tried to compose myself as I grabbed my chair and pulled it close enough to the flames to get warmth.

  Drew was busy putting hotdogs on the sticks, and had them both hovering over the fire in no time. “Good thing I’m a pro at this since I’m cooking tonight.”

  “Can you cook anything else?” I wondered with a smirk.

  “I can… read?” He offered with a sly grin. “So yes, I can follow a recipe, but living on the road doesn’t really give you a lot of time to learn all the secrets of a master chef. I do know I would sacrifice a goat just to have some of your lasagna.”

  I nearly spewed wine out of my mouth. “A goat?”

  “It was the first thing that came to mind.” He shrugged, his eyes flickering to mine over the orange blaze. “All right, you want your wiener slightly burnt or medium well?”

  I hesitated for a minute. “Why do I feel like this is somehow a trick question?”

  He shrugged. “Better hurry… don’t want me burning both wieners. Imagine the pain!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Medium well!”

  “Done!” He pulled both of the dogs back and set them each in a bun. “Ketchup, mustard, relish— Wow! I just may kiss you. Nobody remembers the relish! It’s like the red-headed stepchild of barbecues!”

  I threw my hands in the air. “Thank you! I hate it when people forget!”

  “It’s truly the only way to eat a wiener. Well done, little girl. I may just give you an A.”

  “Imagine if I would have gotten two jars.”

  He moaned. “Stop teasing me. I’m sensitive.”

  I covered my face with my hands. “Stop moaning!”

  He just moaned louder then added giant scoops of relish to each of our hot dogs. “Ketchup?”

  “And mustard.”

  “This is why we’re best friends now,” he said under his breath as he prepped mine and handed it to me. “Cheers.” We bumped our hotdogs together, and then each took a bite.

  “Oh God,” I groaned and chewed. “You’re my new favorite person.”

  His eyes heated across the fire as he watched me eat and then, “Yeah, I’m going to need you to repeat that. I was too busy watching you annihilate that hot dog. Damn, you can swallow… food… well.” A smirk.

  I almost choked. “Um, thanks?”

  He took a small bite and continued watching me eat, then just shook his head and whispered something under his breath.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Perfect,” he said through clenched teeth. “Was just having a pep-talk with my body about what we could and could not do. No worries, my dick just hates mass disappointment, so I gotta let him down nice and easy.”

  This time I did choke. “I’m sorry. What?”

  “Ohh… I just had to explain that this wasn’t a one-night stand where we get to count how many orgasms I can give you.” He grinned. “That’s all.”

  My eyes widened. “I, uh…”

  His smile fell. “You, uh, what?”

  “It’s nothing!” I shoved the hotdog into my mouth until I was having trouble fitting any more of it, and then I chewed carefully while he seemed to stare me down in an effort to read my mind.

  Then his eyes widened, and he jumped to his feet, nearly falling over in the sand in an effort to come and sit by me. He suddenly was right at my side just as I swallowed my last bite and stared into the fire.

  “Orgasms.” He just had to repeat the word. “I mean, you’ve…” His eyes narrowed. “…at least with your ex you did… or someone you dated after… or—”

  At my expression, he stopped talking. And then I just shook my head no because the truth was too embarrassing.

  “Bronte…” He drew out my name like he was concerned. “When was the last time you had sex?”

  Why did I suddenly feel like bursting into tears and confessing my lack of sins?

  The embarrassment was so strong I wanted to grab the shovel, dig my own hole, and beg Drew to bury me.

  “Bronte.” He pulled me into his arms. “It’s a safe space, remember?”

  “It’s…” I tried and then wiped a stray tear that decided to make its way down my right cheek. “It’s been a while.”

  “A while being… a year, two years, a decade?”

  “The last time was the day before he left us when Amelia was around two.”

  “Fourteen years,” he said through clenched teeth. “Fourteen?”

  I winced. “Can you stop repeating it? And why is your math so fast?”

  “What the hell was wrong with that asshole to even sleep with you before leaving? What did he do? Break you for all good men out there?”

  I let out a humorless laugh. “What do you think?”

  “I guess there’s only one thing left for you to do then,” he said softly.

  I glanced up at him. “What?”

  “Ask me.”

  “Ask you what?”

  He grabbed one of my hands, interlaced our fingers together, leaned in, kissed my cheek and whispered, “Ask me to fuck you.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Andrew

  Was it a hell of a gamble? That would be a yes.

  Was I praying she’d say yes and feeling a bit blasphemous because of said prayer? Naturally.

  Was I thinking of myself and only myself? Absolutely not. This was about her and only her, and I needed her to be on board before I lost my damn mind.

  Fourteen years?

  Not on my watch. Not. On. My. Watch.

  Her green eyes didn’t leave mine. I prayed for those lips to par
t, for the answer to be yes, and knew in my soul that if she said no, I’d probably find a way to convince her she was wrong in every way.

  She needed this.

  You need this.

  The voice taunted inside my head. I batted it away like the fly it was and waited, my stance tense.

  She finally exhaled and looked away. “No, but thank you.”

  Stunned speechless, it took me a few minutes to gather myself. “Did you just say no thank you to mind-blowing sex? As if I was just offering to help you with your groceries?”

  She laughed. “You make it sound worse than it is.”

  “Am I?” My eyebrows shot up. “Because I’m pretty sure that the guy you used to stare at when you were sixteen just said let me make all the pain go away and give you something to really focus on by way of pretty mind-blowing orgasms, and you just said, “Nah, I’m good. Thanks for the offer though, champ!”

  “Okay, first of all, I didn’t say champ,” she corrected with a sly grin. “Second, it’s not that I’m rejecting you, though I’m sure it’s never happened, and this is a shock to your ego.” She literally patted me on the thigh as if I was a toddler. “I just — I did the one-night stand. I did the whole ‘let’s have sex and throw caution to the wind,’ and I don’t want to do that again. Plus, we talked about this when we made this arrangement. You said I had to ask you, and I said no thank you. Ergo, we continue with our campout… unless you want to go pout in the tent for a minute. I’ll understand if you need a second to gather yourself after such a blow to your masculine sensitivities.”

  I glared. “I’ve been rejected plenty of times.” Lie. “Or at least— Never mind, the point is, you need this.”

  She licked her lips. “Do I need this? Or do you need this?”

  “We both need this.” I clenched my jaw.

  “I think… celibacy might be good for you.” She winked.

  Ha, she didn’t even know the half of it.

  Celibacy?

  I’d been like a frigging priest for the last three years!

  “I don’t like that word,” I grumbled.

  “You’ll survive, I’m sure. There’s plenty of girls who would already be stripping down right now and asking if you wanted a free show.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the problem, Bronte.” I leaned back on the blanket and sighed. “I don’t want those girls. I want this really bright, stunning woman sitting next to me, who just took my heart and obliterated it with a three-word refusal.”

  “You have a heart?” she joked.

  “Ha ha.” I rolled my eyes. “All right, so, no sex, which means I have to woo the shit out of you, which also means… music.”

  I didn’t let her say no this time. Instead, I got up, grabbed my guitar, sat as close to her as humanly possible, made sure she was wrapped in another blanket and started strumming.

  Something about the music instantly relaxed her, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her head on her hands as if she couldn’t wait to hear what I had next.

  I played a few chords, liking the way she was watching me more than I would ever admit to any of the guys lest they joke about it until my death. And then I started to sing.

  It was one of the songs she’d inspired.

  “Damned if I do,

  This is something real, something new,

  Damned if I don’t,

  Because she won’t ever understand

  That everything goes dark when I can’t hold her hand…”

  I continued singing then just closed my eyes and went into the chorus.

  “Nothing ordinary about this love,

  When I kiss your lips, I taste the sweetest sin,

  The need to give in,

  To prove there’s nothing calm about the way my heart

  Refuses to stop beating, needing, pursuing

  Leading me to claim your mouth in a series of kisses

  That a friend shouldn’t give,

  But I would sell my soul, forfeit the will to live

  For just one more…”

  I hummed into the next verse and then finished the bridge. I hadn’t realized my eyes were still closed until I strummed the last chord and opened them to look at Bronte.

  Her eyes were filled with tears, and then without any warning, she cupped my face with her hands and whispered, “That was beautiful.”

  “This is the time,” I rasped, “that I’d say, ‘No, you’re beautiful,’ but it’s not true.”

  She flinched.

  I grinned. “You’re breathtaking.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Devastatingly gorgeous.” Another kiss to the side of her mouth. “My tongue’s favorite taste.”

  She shivered as I took her lips again, this time harder, claiming them for myself as I parted them with my tongue. I may as well have been planting my flag, preparing for war against anyone who dared contradict what was mine.

  Loud music and laughter interrupted us.

  And then we had around seventeen — no joke — high school kids running toward us.

  Bronte gave her head a shake while I glared daggers at every single little shit who continued skipping our direction, throwing sand all over the blankets, my guitar.

  Someone was dying this night.

  “Mom!” Amelia yelled. “I didn’t know you guys were going to do a campout.”

  “Surprise?” I offered lamely, gaining the attention of the seventeen kids who all stared me down like I’d single-handedly cured the common cold.

  Giggles erupted, and then cell phones came out.

  And our date was over, wasn’t it?

  I put my fake smile on for all to see and immediately went into Drew Amhurst mode. I signed autographs while Bronte helped me take pictures with guys, girls, selfies.

  Amelia looked uncomfortable. That made two of us.

  The last thing she needed was to feel even more out of place after the cancer diagnosis and the tension over wondering if she was still in the clear. I could practically feel her stress pulsing in my direction despite her easy smile. I knew those smiles well; they were convincing when it came to everyone but yourself and your own damn reflection.

  “Hey, man!” One of the guys, who was wearing his Seaside High letterman jacket and, honest to God, had his black beanie pulled almost completely over his eyes, showed off two piercings in his ears like he was “hard.” “Can you play Stay with Me?”

  Kill. Me. Now. No, better yet, kill me dead. Please.

  I gave Bronte a save-me look, which she completely ignored by the way, and then started to strum. “Sure man, what’s your name?”

  “Ryan!” He high-fived the dick next to him as they pulled out a flask, and I mentally cleaned my gun on the spot. I was going to have to serve time in federal prison if he as much as touched Amelia.

  Damn, I was getting protective over the non-daughter.

  But she was innocent.

  She was dealing with cancer for shit’s sake.

  Ryan probably couldn’t even spell cancer if his life depended on it.

  He let out a belch.

  I gave a side scowl to Bronte, who caught it this time and put a hand over her mouth, her laughter turning into a cough.

  At least we were on the same page.

  NO RYANS!

  A teen in black-rimmed glasses handed Amelia a Diet Coke and asked to sit next to her.

  “Thanks, Alex.”

  I nodded my head in approval.

  We like Alex.

  We hate Ryan.

  Ryan seemed to hate Alex.

  Which meant Alex just gained a billion points while I was already plotting where Ryan’s body would be buried.

  So, I was officially picking sides.

  That was different.

  With a deep breath, I strummed my guitar and sang the lyrics of the requested song as smoothly as possible, even though I loathed the thing.

  It was one of our older ones.

  And sadly, one of the most beloved.


  It had also become the one song that held all my shame, all my pain — the song I’d written about Angelica when we’d been close when Will was going semi-off the deep end.

  It was our song.

  It was our friendship.

  And now the song was my ghost, possibly my demon.

  Perfect.

  I finished and looked up. Everyone had their phones out, which meant in about two-point-seven seconds, I would be trending on all social media… again.

  And I’d probably get another call from Skye.

  Which meant I had to change my number… again.

  And then I’d probably get a text from Angelica later saying sorry.

  Then a warning text from Will to stop singing the song.

  And yeah, lots of super fun moments in my future.

  Exhaustion suddenly took over.

  “I know that look,” Bronte whispered. “Let’s pack up.”

  “Noooo.” Could I sound more like a child? “This is our date. They can leave.”

  She grinned. “I doubt they will, plus it’s still early. Tell you what…” She leaned in and whispered in my ear. “We can still have our outdoor adventure, just not on the beach.”

  I frowned but exhaled in relief. I didn’t want our time to end, not when it was just beginning. “Then, where?”

  “Just pack up the tent.” She winked.

  “Fine, but I’m trusting you. Don’t let me down,” I teased, my voice even sounded tired like I’d done a three-hour concert with a thirty-minute encore.

  The kids were still hanging out at our spot when we packed stuff up, said our goodbyes, then got in the car and drove home.

  I was madly disappointed.

  Devastated, actually, that we’d been interrupted.

  I was about to apologize when Bronte grabbed our gear and, instead of going inside the house, went around back toward the grassy cliff that overlooked the ocean.

  “Think you can build that tent again?”

  I smiled in relief. “Yeah, I think I can manage.”

  “Good.” She set up our blankets and disappeared, only to come back with one of the small fire pits that were set around the patio. She placed it next to the tent and lit it while I moved the blankets nearby so we could look at the stars.

  Wordlessly, we lay down and looked up at the clear night sky.