I give them a minute to let their emotions play out as I slide my phone back into my pocket.
“Go on now,” Josie says, wiping her eyes. “You two go and have fun and start making all your grand plans together. I can’t wait to see what this place looks like next time I visit with my babies in tow.”
“You’ll hardly recognize it,” I say, and it’s true. The only direction is up for this outdated dive, that’s for damn sure. And, weirdly, I do want to make Luna’s dreams come true.
The emotions Luna is empowering are unfamiliar. Usually I do things for other people purely to get something from them. There’s always an agenda that leads to my satisfaction of one kind or another, most often relating to sex or money or sometimes both.
This feels different. I want to have sex with her—right now—but I don’t want to only have sex with her. I want to please her. And give her things she’s never had. I want to inspire more of that bell-chimed laughter.
I don’t want to want any of these things, but there it is.
“You ready?” I say, more abruptly than maybe I should. I’m agitated. I’m blue-balled and more than half-cocked. I don’t like what’s happening to me. If I could walk away right now, I would.
Don’t be a melodramatic douchebag. Of course you can walk away.
Then do it.
Put some cash in her bank account for the refurbishments, which you can direct from afar, jump on your private jet and get your ass back to Chicago.
No.
I don’t want to.
I want to take her out tonight. Then I want to spend the next few days talking through our plans. Watching that outrageous face. Counting those golden freckles. Seeing if I can get her to let me kiss that succulent pink mouth. And peel off that dress until her full, high breasts bounce free of it so I can taste those little budded nipples and suck on them like the starving wretch that I am.
I shouldn’t be starving, all things considered.
But I am. When it comes to Luna, I suddenly feel like I haven’t actually been with a woman in years. Maybe ever. Not in a way that actually means something.
Would you fucking listen to yourself?
It’s official: I’m going batshit crazy.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she says. Like going out with me is a necessary evil she’s dreading.
I’ll change all that.
I’m going to show her such a good time she’s going to fall in love with me and never want to leave me.
It’ll happen. Then I’ll lose interest and walk away.
No you won’t.
You know it in your twisted, jaded heart that, with this one—this starry, beautiful girl who’s glaring at you and dazzling the hell out of you at the same fucking time—it was never going to be that easy.
I’m nervous about tonight. I’m having trouble dealing with the avalanche of emotions I’m feeling, that seem to be twisted and entwined in confusing configurations.
There’s the fear. Of those long-ago hometown memories—that have suddenly bubbled up in full force after I thought I was done with them, years ago. It’s disconcerting. And annoying. There’s the sadness, that Josie will be gone by the end of the weekend. It’s so sudden and … final. There’s the fury, that Gage McCabe has taken total control of my life with one light touch on his fancy iPhone. The smug look on his face when he knew he had me right where he wanted me all along: under his control. I don’t want to be under his control, or anyone else’s, of course I don’t. Worst of all are the … cravings. The urges I’ve felt over the past two days that I wish had nothing to do with to the unexpected plot twist of the stranger coming to town. That quiet fever in me, like something inside me has just woken up and it’s hungry. I don’t know how to feel about that or what to do about it. And there’s excitement. I really do love this band’s music.
So, even though Josie insisted on styling me to perfection, I feel out of control under my polished surface layer. The tempest going on in my head and my heart—and my body—is making me feel a little crazy.
Gage arrives right on time.
He’s dressed in an expensive-looking shirt, a casual jacket and jeans—which I can admit look … good. The man definitely knows how to fill out a pair of Levi’s. He’s tall and athletic-looking. He carries himself like he owns the world.
I guess he sort of does. Or at least a big fat slice of Chicago and now my cute little Key West bar, which happens to be my world so, close enough.
“Are you ready?” he asks. His eyes, I notice again, are an unusual shade of blue which could almost be described as a deep, dark teal. The color of a tropical ocean on a stormy day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes that color before.
“Have fun, guys!” Josie waves at us from the doorway, before closing the door to the stairs and waddling her way up. Those twins seem to be growing by the hour. It’s good she’s going back to Iowa, to her big, loving family and her brand new premium health insurance policy. It makes me feel like the next few hours and in fact the next month will almost be bearable, for that detail alone. Whatever happens, it’s worth it. For her, I’ll literally do anything. Including jumping off a cliff and straight into ownership by a big city player who could very well be the devil himself.
I stare after her almost wistfully. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Gage’s mouth quirks at my reply as he starts walking, hands shoved into his pockets, waiting for me to follow him.
I’ve decided to make the best of this situation. It’s what I do. Besides, this ship has already sailed and I’m now trapped on deck with Captain Cocky.
It’s unexpected that I’m suddenly chained so decisively to a loaded player I hardly know, but hell, it could be worse. He could be, I don’t know, a shady politician. Or an unethical corporate schmuck. At least when we googled him, a lot of the articles were about how much money he gives to charities. So at least he has one redeeming feature … okay, maybe two if you count the unholy fit of those damn jeans. Or the thick dark hair that has a hint of a wave to it. Or the cool alertness in those unusual, tinted eyes that somehow hints at a freakish perceptiveness. Or the absurdly handsome face. Or the impressive width of his shoulders. Or the rugged edge to his clean-cut look …
Okay, so there are a few details that could be considered impressive if you were keeping track. Which I’m not.
As I walk alongside him across the deck, I allow myself to briefly fantasize about the improvements we’ll be able to make. I’m picturing mood-enhancing lanterns and big-leafed tropical plants. Maybe some white gauzy shade cloths that offer a Caribbean feel. We might even be able to hire extra staff, so some of our workers can have days off once in a while. A weekend here and there, even. I can’t remember the last time I had a weekend off.
“It’ll be nice to finally get this fixed,” I say, running my fingers lightly (so I don’t get another splinter) along the rough surface of the railing, where I leaned over it just the other day with my hammer.