On the Rocks (A Turtle Island Novel) (20 page)

“Today?” She whirled to him. “I just picked out everything yesterday.”

“See what a few decisions can get you?”

“I wish we could go shopping right now.”

He chuckled. Because if he didn’t, he would kiss her. Then he took back the light and walked her through the remainder of the house. Wainscoting and additional trim work had been installed in the eat-in kitchen, and shelving had been added to a few of the closets.

“This is just what I wanted.” They stepped onto the deck off the master bedroom, where she’d seen that her underrailing lights had been put in. She flipped them on. “Thank you, Carter.” She pulled him to her for a long hug, and he focused on the dim glow of the lights instead of the soft curves of her body. “Thank you so much for helping me with this.” She leaned back and smiled up at him. “My house is becoming mine, and it’s all thanks to you.”

She hugged him again, and he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her.

This hug was different, but neither of them acknowledged it. How
ever, he didn’t miss the way their fingers lingered as they pulled away.

She averted her eyes. “Thank you for bringing me over here tonight.”

“And thank you for being you.”

Her head tilted with a sigh, and she pressed her lips together as if touched by his words. She faced her house from her position at the edge of the deck and simply took it in, then angled her head back to see the smaller deck and office doors above them.

After a minute, her eyes grew wide in surprise.

Turning to him, she pointed at the house. “I’m building
our
dream home,” she said urgently. “Do you realize that? Do you remember planning out a house together?”

He’d started nodding before she finished talking. “We had a piece of paper with a sketch on it. We used blue ink, because that reminded us of real blueprints.”

“I’d forgotten all about that.” Her entire being seemed soft.

“I used to bring the paper over with me in the mornings, and we’d work on it together.”

“I wonder where it is now.”

He wished he had it. “Probably tossed in the trash years ago.”

“Probably.” She leaned over the railing to look at the wraparound deck below. “We used to laugh about how someday we’d both end up with the same house. I can’t believe I’m actually building it.”

“Both of us.”

She turned her head to look at him, and he gave a quick motion with his head. “Mine is almost identical to yours. I noticed it the first time I walked through.”

Her smile flattened. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not. Only, I don’t have this view.” He took in the ocean. “I’m looking at the city.”

“You have an office on the third floor?”

“My house is only two floors, but the office is sectioned off by itself. There’s a deck.” He turned to her. “They really are very similar.”

“Huh.” The expression sighed out of her. “Life is funny sometimes, isn’t it?”

“That it is.”

They moved back through the house, taking everything in one more time, and ended up in the kitchen, where the small lamp still glowed. He pulled two beers from the minifridge sitting in the corner.

“You stocked my fridge?”

“Gene did. For an end-of-week perk tomorrow afternoon. Not everyone will work on Saturday, and they’ve been pulling long hours. It’ll be empty by tomorrow night.” He held one out to her, and as she took it, he watched concern pass across her face.

“I worry about your drinking,” she admitted. She rolled the bottle between her palms. “Is it . . . a problem?”

Leave it to her to face things head on. “I’m good,” he assured her. “It was a phase.”

“A phase?” Her incredulous look reminded him of something his mother might grace him with. “You’re thirty years old. Aren’t you too old for phases?”

“Probably.” He set his beer down, because he wanted her to focus on him when he next spoke. Not the drink. “I’ve always done everything ‘right,
’
” he explained. “Which got me nowhere. It got me a divorce. So I got angry. And I didn’t want to do everything right for once in my life.”

“The excessive drinking . . .”

“And the smoking . . .”

Her eyes widened. “That’s right. I haven’t smelled that on you in a while.”

“I tossed them.” He gave a small shrug. “They were disgusting.”

She laughed softly at his use of her phrasing from their first morning together. Then she grew silent. Finally, she said, “So you’re okay?”

“The drinking?” He nodded. “Yeah. It never got out of hand. The rest?” He picked the bottle back up and stared at it for a moment before bringing his gaze back to hers. “I’m getting there. But the thing is, I
want
to be okay. And that’s different for me.”

She took the bottle opener from the top of the fridge and popped open her beer. After a long swallow, she gave him a single nod. “Then tell me about her.”

Which was why he’d brought her over here. To talk about Lisa.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

H
e opened his own beer, but he didn’t immediately take a drink. Instead, he headed out to the deck, where Ginger had placed three totally girly beach chairs. Two were pink and one purple. They didn’t look like her at all. He unfolded two of them and set them side by side, then took his beer and moved to the railing.

It was low tide, and the waves were muted due to being so far out. The night was quiet, and the moon was bright. Ginger came to stand beside him.

“She didn’t just leave me for another man.” He turned to her. “She married him before we divorced.”

Her face showed instant revulsion. “Did you—”

“No.” He stopped her before she could ask the obvious. “It wasn’t worth it to me. I just wanted out.”

“But . . .” Her mouth hung open slightly. Her forehead creased. “How did this happen?”

Carter spent a few minutes explaining his and his ex-wife’s relationship. How they worked. Where they lived. How he’d thought all was fine because he’d grown up with something similar with his parents.

“What I didn’t realize,” he continued, “was that we weren’t on the
same page. I was in Rhode Island planning a future, and she was in New
York meeting another man. Then there was her business trip to Vegas.”

Ginger eyed him shrewdly. “He went with her on that trip?”

“Supposedly they got drunk, had too much fun”—he shook his head, still unbelieving that this was what his life had come to—“and came back married.”

“And she didn’t own up to her mistake?”

“She preferred him,” he said softly. “He was a surgeon.”

Understanding settled in her eyes. “Your career wasn’t good enough for her?”

“I prefer to spend my time in a room by myself,” he pointed out, sarcasm dripped from his words. “Talking to the voices in my head.”

Her head began to shake then, and it didn’t stop for several long seconds. She just stood there, disbelief in her eyes, disgust marring the curve of her mouth, and her head moving slowly back and forth. She finally spoke. “We both have an interesting way of finding people who want somebody more . . . respectable, don’t we?” The words came out very slow and very soft.

“Doesn’t seem to be working out for either of us.”

“Respectable people can kiss my ass.”

That was the first time he’d heard her curse. He lifted his beer. “Cheers to that.”

She lifted hers in return.

Each deep in their own thoughts, they moved to the chairs. Her jaw remained tense when she turned to him. “What else?”

“How do you know there’s more?”

She reached over and rested her hand on his thigh. “The hurt hasn’t left your eyes. Nor has the anger.”

The bottle of beer became his focus as the fury he’d grown so comfortable with over the summer surrounded him. He wanted to tell her the rest of it. He needed to get it out. “The house,” he began, “it was supposed to fix us.”

It occurred to him for the first time that his marriage had probably been beyond fixing well before ground had been broken. He took a long swallow of his beer and finished it off. The desire to fling the bottle as far as he could came over him, so he gripped it tight. Ginger turned her hand over on his thigh, her palm now up, and he grasped it in his.

“When she skipped Julie’s graduation this summer, I headed for Manhattan. We’d been apart for months, pretending the issue was work, but I knew. How could I not have known? We’d been failing for years.

“I got to her apartment . . .” He took a deep breath, his chest heaving. The words came out fast now. “I get there. And I’m mad. Furious. But I’m trying to ignore that because I haven’t seen my wife in months, right? I should greet her first. Pretend to be happy to see her. And not let on immediately that I’m there purely to yell at her.

“Only, she opens the door.” He clenched his jaw and breathed through his nose. “And in one single instant, I knew.”

“He was there?”

Carter glared at nothing. The absurdity of his situation wasn’t lost on him. “Not him. But his unborn baby was.”

Ginger’s mouth opened. She covered it with a hand. “She was pregnant?” she whispered. Sheer disbelief was clear in her voice, as well as the inward hunch of her shoulders. He thought she might throw up.

“Five months.”

“And you hadn’t been with her in that way in . . .”

“
More
than five months.”

“Oh, geez.” Her hand remained over her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Carter.”

“Yeah.” He tried to mentally shake it off. He
needed
to get over it. “Life’s a bitch.”

As if nothing else could possibly be said, they both turned quiet, and he focused on the sounds of the ocean. The moon was full and high; it was a beautiful night. A romantic evening for lovers.

“I hate her,” Ginger said beside him. “She didn’t have to hurt you like that.”

“I hate her, too.”

Only, he didn’t. Not like he once had. Telling the story had hurt. Telling the story had pissed him off. But his feelings toward his ex-wife had turned more indifferent than angry. It surprised him.

When had that happened?

Ginger stood, the movement jerky, and motioned toward the empty bottle in his hand. “Want another?”

He looked up at her. “I’m good.”

“I think I’ll have one,” she said.

She left the balcony without another word, and Carter suspected she needed a minute to absorb everything he’d just told her.
He
would need a minute. He’d dumped a lot on her. The only thing he hadn’t shared was that Lisa should be due any day now. Or maybe she’d already had the baby.

And he didn’t care.

In fact, he couldn’t care less.

“Let’s do it.” The words came from behind him, and Carter looked over his shoulder. Ginger stood in the open doorway, the light from the lamp like a halo behind her, and the glow of the moon caressing her face.

“Do what?” he asked.

“It.”
She nodded quickly. “Let’s do
it
. I need to have sex. You do, too. Let’s do it.”

He blinked. What had he missed? “Just like that?”

“Do you want to talk it to death, or do you want to have sex?”

He stood quickly, the chair tumbling backward in his haste, and was in front of her in two seconds flat. His hands reached out, but he
stopped himself before he touched her. He held his breath. “You’re sure?”

She was almost panting. She nodded, nerves flaring in her eyes. “If you are?”

It was a question. She’d left it up to him.

Which made it no question at all.

“Yes.”
He took her hands in his. They were shaking.
His mouth met hers, and the shirt came off over her head. He backed her into the kitchen and pinned her against the unpainted wall.

And then her palms pushed gently against his chest. “Wait . . .”

He bit off his groan. “What?” He didn’t want to wait. Not now. He wanted to touch.

He wanted to bury himself.

Instead, he peered down at her—white cotton bra, tiny blue jean shorts, flat, toned stomach—and grew painfully hard.

“Roni said we need ground rules for casual sex,” she told him.

“You talked about having sex with me with some guy named Ronnie?”

“My friend Roni. You remember her?” She clasped her hands together. “She and Andie used to come down every summer.”

He pictured Ginger and her two best friends as they’d been years ago. “I do remember them. You three remained friends all this time?” The idea made him happy. He was glad she had that.

“We did.” Her love for her friends showed through. “They’re the best. They lived here on the island until recently. Then they got married, are off having kids now. And Roni is playing piano again. Ohmygod, Carter.” Her eyes rounded as she got caught up telling him about them. “She is
so
amazing.”

“Ginger?”

“What?”

“Shut up, baby.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, and pulled a soft moan from the back of her throat. “We’ll talk about your friends later. I swear. I want to hear all about them. But, later.”

“Right. Because right now we need rules.”

“We don’t need rules.” He put his hands at her waist. “We have fun. That’s all.”

“Fun. Yes. I can do that. Just sex. Just fun.”

“Just sex.” He kissed her forehead. “Just fun.” He nuzzled her temple. “Can we start now?”

“Oh, yes,” she moaned. And then she put her hands on
his
waist.

And he groaned as if in pain.

He dropped his forehead to hers. “Protection,” he ground out.

Fuck.

She pushed at his chest. “You brought me out here without protection? Seriously, Carter?”

“You said we weren’t doing this!”

What had he done? And what was he going to do about it? He tried to think fast. There was one store on the island that stayed open around the clock.

“I can go to the store,” he said quickly. “I’ll be fast.”

But she laughed before he could pull away. She reached into her back pocket again. And the next instant, she held two condoms between the fingers of her right hand.

“
You
came out here with protection?” he asked.

“What can I say?” She chuckled. “I can’t remember to carry a purse when I go out on a date, but for some reason, this wouldn’t leave my mind when I went in to change clothes.” She waved the two small packets in the air in front of him.

“You said we weren’t doing this.”

“I did. But I’ve also been known to be wrong.” Her eyes were wide open and guileless. And he was crazy for the girl. “Quit talking and kiss me, Carter Ridley. I’m going up in flames here.”

So he quit talking and he kissed her. And more.

It was the best sex of her life.

It was also the fastest.

But since it had been over two years, Ginger didn’t care. They were still up against the wall, her legs still wrapped around Carter’s hips, and his hands still gripping her butt.

“I’m sorry about that,” he muttered as his body gave one last shudder. His face was buried in her neck. “It was too . . .”

“
Good
,” she breathed.

He grunted, and his hot breath whispered over her skin. “It was too fast, Red. I should have—”

“Done exactly what you did.” She pulled back and eyed him through drooping lashes, not regretting for an instant how fast it had been. But quickie or not, she was ready to go again. She wanted to run her tongue over parts unexplored. To let her hands follow. She wanted more orgasms. “Why do you think I brought two condoms?”

He seemed to get it then. She’d wanted fast, same as he. She’d needed release.

And now she needed more.

His fingers clenched into the cheeks of her rear, and she felt him stir inside her.

“I do have to eventually get home,” she told him. She was completely ignoring what he’d told her about his past. She’d process that
later. “Mom wasn’t up when I went in, and I’d hate for her to wake in the
morning and worry. But it did seem to me that the powder room down
here has a countertop that looked sturdy enough to handle two people.”

He chuckled, and then his arms slid up to surround her and he pulled her tight to his chest.

The hair on his pecs teased her nipples as her legs slipped lower to dangle above the ground. Then he turned them both in a circle, similar to what she’d done when they’d arrived. Only she was swinging from his arms, and he wasn’t taking in the changes to the room. He was simply enjoying himself.

He was laughing.

“You shock me, Red.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “In a good way.”

“I shock me sometimes, too.”

When Carter separated them, he looked for something to use to dispose of the protection and found an unused napkin from a fast-food joint. While she eyed his naked body, and thought about the fact that he’d just been inside of her. And then she got nervous.

“So it was good?” She asked the question timidly.

“Good?” He jerked his gaze to hers. “You almost maimed me from making me come so fast.”