But I can’t help wondering now. What happened back there for him to lose his cool like that? I don’t know the guy, but I do know he’s trying pretty damn hard to suppress some major rage. A lot has been omitted from that story he tells.
He doesn’t say anything, and instead starts toward the water. Right. No questions, no answers. No chance I’ll demand anything from him. I’ve been around enough hot-headed guys to understand one thing: I probably don’t want to know.
He let his guise slip, and that should have sent up a red flag, waving frantically toward the side exit of the stage. But I sideline that concern for the moment. Anyone who has the patience to customize their own bobber gets a second chance.
Even if it’s not American.
I’ll rag him on that later, when he’s in a better mood. I smile to myself.
Finding a sandy seat on the bank, I watch the small ripples of dark lake water lap toward my flip-flops. I decide this is enough. I’m unwilling to talk about what got me into Stoney, to hash up painful memories, and he’s unwilling to reveal his demons. It’s enough to know we’re full of crap, and we want to leave it at that.
He further proves his need for avoidance when he says, “Want to swim?”
A forced laugh tumbles from my mouth. “In this?” I look over my attire: leggings, well-worn Ramones T-shirt, and my bandana. “I’m good.” Before Rehab Mel wouldn’t have thought twice about stripping down and jumping into a body of water with a hot guy. But that was Not Sober Mel.
Days upon days of straight sobriety and boredom has left me feeling not as adventurous—fun is too much effort. As much as that pains me to admit, it’s the sobering truth. Pun intended.
“You’re not as daring as I thought.” Boone gives me a challenging smile to match his words, then reaches behind his back and yanks his shirt over his head.
Damn. Too bad I’ve already decided not to get involved with the guy. His toned and beautifully sculpted body makes me yearn with regret. But gorgeous or not, cute dimple or not, I’m not in the mood to be reckless.
Shit. That’s a first.
He unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans, and I feel like I’m sixteen all over again, about to get my first glimpse of male perfection. My insides flutter like an innocent school girl. When his pants drop around his ankles, I longingly take in his black and blue boxers and the full package they’re concealing. There is no shame in my game.
What’s adorable? I think Boone actually blushes. The guy is covered in gorgeous tats and looks tougher than all hell, but his cheeks light up like the Fourth as I openly check him out.
My gaze zeros in on a couple fresh bruises along his abdomen. What happened there? He clears his throat, pulling my attention back to his face.
“Swimming relaxes me,” he says, as way of an excuse for getting down to his undies.
“Uh-huh,” is my reply. And this is my first rodeo, slick.
I admit, it’s been a while—like since middle school, while—since a guy tried to pull something like this on me. But it’s cute. In a way. Sneak a girl out of rehab, take her for a ride on a mean bike, and strip naked for a swim. Sure. It’s all about the relaxing swim—because there’s nothing else that’s more relaxing to a guy t
han swimming. Uh-huh.
I want to believe I had him pegged from the get go. That his sole intention for talking to me that first night was to get into my panties…but as he wades into the water, carrying that adorable blush with him…something just doesn’t fit.
It’s all wrong. I still can’t get a read on him, his signals are crossed. Like he’s emitting all the right ones on the surface, but my radar is picking up on the subtle currents underneath.
If I had to guess, I’d say it’s been a minute since this guy got laid. I almost laugh out loud. Maybe he’s just good at his game. Maybe this coy technique works on most chicks. Whatever. Regardless, it’s a distraction from my now craptastic life.
What the hell.
I stand and drag my shirt over my head, then shimmy out of my leggings. Boone’s back is to me, so I quickly step into the lake and submerge myself. Holy hell—the water is colder than I thought. I shiver and dive under.
Coming up beside him, I splash through the surface of the water. He yelps as I gasp in air.
Clearing the water from my eyes, I shake out my hair, loving the feel of the cool water on my skin. The thrill of being outside. The adrenaline from the ride still coursing through my system.
His smile reveals the lone dimple as he sends a wave of water back at me as payback. “I should have known you’d play games.”
It’s more than a tease, or an innuendo; there’s a hint of accusation in that innocently phrased sentence. His gaze slowly dips to the lacy pink bra straps on my shoulders, but quickly snaps to my face. If this is his game, he’s good.
I shrug. “Gotta keep you on your toes, right? Boys can’t have all the fun.” I glide through the water and turn on my back. Float and look at the sky. “Why didn’t you mention you had a bobber? Most people…bikers…that’s the first thing to come up.”
I hear him moving through the water near me, swimming closer. “Because I’m not a biker.”