“You better be.”
Settling back against me again and closing his eyes, West took a deep breath before he started. “Okay, so, my parents. There’s not much to tell. Appearances are everything to them because they have money. And I wanted to please them, so I tried to fit the mold. Went to the right school, followed my stepdad into the family business — do you know who my parents are?”
I shook my head.
“Montgomery Golf? No? The company has a couple of different sides to it. From golf course design and management to golf clubs and golf accessories. It’s a rich man’s game, and my parents like to look the part. Picture catered parties and symphony halls and charity balls and — really, just about any excuse to gossip about the other rich assholes, but with better food and better clothes than most people. Don’t get me wrong, some of the men run companies, but a lot of them, like my father, are the heads of boards, and it’s the managers who do the real work.”
My mouth twisted. “So you grew up with money, and your parents liked nice things. I’m not seeing the problem here, West.”
He let out a dark chuckle. “I didn’t at first, either. I spent years going to pointless meetings, shaking the right hands, networking with the power players. And why? I hated it. It just took me awhile to realize that was okay. I didn’t have to take over the company one day. I could be myself, and that was enough.”
“What made you figure it out?” My fingers were still sifting through West’s short hair.
“Wyatt,” he said, a smile drifting over his face. “Every time I’d come down to visit him and his stupid beach bar, it was obvious how happy he was. Like, he loved getting up every morning and living his life here. I wanted that. That simple fucking everyday happiness.”
“So… what happened?”
“I figured he had the right idea and followed him. Told my parents, packed up my shit, and left Chicago and all that phony ass kissing behind. Decided to grow up and be a man and make my own money, not live off my parents’ hand-outs. Bought a boat. Figured out a way to make money with it. End of story.”
I studied him. The relaxed lines of his body as he sprawled across the towel. His strong jawline. His long fingers resting on his sculpted abs. His citrus and salt scent.
“It’s that simple?”
He nodded. “Yeah, it is. I love being on the water and the challenge of trying to catch the biggest fish. Finding a way to make other dudes pay for the gas and bait was genius. My friends are here. I own part of a fucking bar. Life’s pretty damn perfect if you ask me.”
“Do you miss it? The wealth and the perks that came with it?”
He dropped his head back to study me. Reaching up, he pulled my sunglasses off my face, looking me right in the eyes. “Nothing was genuine. How can you appreciate something — I mean, really, truly appreciate something you’ve never had to work for — something that’s just handed to you — something you don’t create or build or earn yourself?” He paused, and his blue-gray eyes moved over my face before locking on mine again, his gaze intense. “I wanted something that’s mine. Mine and nobody else’s.”
The air crackled between us, the slap of the water against the side of the boat sharply staccato. The humidity was tangible, pulled away by an errant breeze before settling back around our shoulders, urging us to give in to the heat building between us. A seagull floated overhead before diving into the water in search of its own lunch.
I let out a shaky breath and swallowed hard.
“Is that such a crazy dream?” he asked, his voice rough.
I traced his eyebrows, smoothing the furrows from his forehead. “No. It doesn’t sound crazy at all.”
West’s lips twitched, and he shifted off my lap to sit up and face me. “Enough of this serious bullshit. You want any of this watermelon before I eat it? I could only fit three slices.”
I rolled my eyes at the subject change. “Yeah, I’ll take one.”
West split the seedless fruit between us and took a big bite of one of his slices, a dribble of juice snaking a path down his chin.
“Know why I packed watermelon?”
I swallowed a mouthful, feeling some drip down my own chin. “Why?”
“’Cause of your shampoo. I looked in your shower. You always smell like watermelon, and now I find myself buying one every time I’m at the damn grocery store.”
I bit my lip to keep my smile contained. “You don’t like watermelon?”
He waited until I met his eyes. “It’s quickly becoming my favorite.”
I flushed and tried to change the subject. “Favorite color?”
“Blue. Really? You want to know this shit?”
I shrugged. “You said you wanted to get to know each other better.”
“Fine. Morning or night person?”
“Night. Pancakes or waffles?”
“Pancakes. Chocolate or vanilla?”
“Chocolate. Chinese takeout or Mexican?”
“Mexican. Dress up or dress down?”
“Dress down, most of the time anyway.” He nodded in agreement with my choice. “Batman or Superman?”
“Batman. Favorite position?” He looked at me with an innocent expression and took a big bite of melon.
I stared at him for a moment and put my rind in an empty Lunchable container. “Offense.”
West tossed his rind next to mine and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “So you like to be in charge?”
I didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “If the guy doesn’t know what he’s doing, then yes.”
“And if he does?” West leaned closer.
“Then wouldn’t he be choosing the position?” I cocked one eyebrow, challenging him.
“Probably. Unless he wants to see what kind of moves you’ve got.”
I licked my lips. “I’ve got moves.”
“I know. And I can’t wait to see them again but not here. General Beauregard is underage. We need to keep it G-rated, PG tops.” West winked. “Wouldn’t want to traumatize the audience.”
I blinked at his comment. Suddenly, I was back in Nashville, back in my loft, listening to Asshole and Jameson talk about videos of me. Footage of Rebecca. Sex tapes. I gasped and turned away, shoving my sunglasses on top of my head and rubbing my eyes with the heels of my hands, trying to erase the memories. Even though I had destroyed all the evidence, I still felt dirtied from the experience, like I wore a scarlet P for porn. I was anything but an ideal match for a guy like West, where image mattered to his parents. Maybe he didn’t want to be a part of the family business, but his love for them was clear from his actions. I had a past as an inadvertent adult film star, and I took boudoir photos for a living. What was I thinking?
A warm hand rubbed my back. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Something in my eyes. It’s better now.” Forcing myself to lower my hands, I dropped my sunglasses back over my eyes and smiled at him. “I’m ready for a doughnut, aren’t you?”
Moving away from him, I popped open the hinged top of my favorite green-and-white box, snagging one and taking a big bite. Yeah, I might have been eating my feelings just a little.
“How’d you know about the doughnuts?” I asked between bites.
“I’m just that good.” He lifted one shoulder in an arrogant shrug.
I snorted.
“Fine,” he admitted. “I asked Rue what your culinary weakness was. Fair warning — I plan on finding out all of your weaknesses and fully exploiting them.”
He looked at me, his eyes dark with promise, daring me to disagree.
I was starting to think West was my biggest weakness.
And I wasn’t ready for him to know that.
Breaking his gaze, I finished off my doughnut, holding my sticky hand in the air as I looked for another clean napkin. Not finding one right off, I licked the sugary remnants off my thumb. I heard a soft groan and peeked up to see West focused on my mouth. Eyes half-lidded, he pulled my hand to him and drew the tip of my first finger into his mouth, his lips wrapping around my sensitive skin. The rough scrape of his tongue as he licked and sucked each finger set me on fire, my eyes closing and lips parting. By the time he finished, my breathing was ragged, my thighs were clenched, and I wanted to feel that hot mouth moving on a different part of me altogether.