Giving In (The Sandy Cove Series Book 1) Page 8

  “That’s it, it feels good, right? Now just a little more.”

  I lower her foot a bit until the top and all of her toes are under. I can feel her relax, the tension starting to dissipate.

  “Good, Turnip. Now just lower it a bit more, like you’re getting into a bath. She does what I suggest, and struggles, but does it.

  “See, not so bad, now try the other one.”

  Harlow pulls her foot from under her and painstakingly dips the toes of her foot in, like the other. I have to encourage her, bit by bit. She tenses up again, and I don’t feel bad. She has to try to conquer this fear a little at a time. Her foot eases into the water. Her eyes, tightly shut, but she does it. Her body is stiff as a board, but she does it.

  She leans back a bit, still with her eyes shut. Once her foot is all the way in, she peeks one eye open, looks to me, and I give her an encouraging smile.

  “You did it,” I whisper.

  She grins back at me, and she’s pleased with herself.

  “Now move your feet around. Just a little to get a feel of the water.”

  Slowly, she does it, just an inch or two, and I can tell it’s still hard for her.

  Her eyes aren’t focused on the water, there’s still fear there. However, she looks to me when she sways her feet back and forth, letting the water surround them.

  “Thanks,” she says quietly and without glancing my way.

  Ok, tender moment over. Back to being me.

  I stand up, and she does the same, carefully.

  “Well, I’m outta here. Gotta go surf the internet for porn.”

  She groans, and it’s glorious.

  “Ugh, just when I think you’re actually attempting to be a human being, you go and screw it up with your mouth. You. Are. Gross.”

  I have to laugh, ‘cause she still doesn’t get me. I wonder if she can hear me banging my random muff when I bring one home?

  I should ask her.

  Nevermind. I’m trying to be a grown up.

  “So why do you say I’m gross? You didn’t think I was gross about a year ago. I just so happen to have a large sexual appetite, and if I just so happen to bring home a little company to help satisfy it, then so be it. I’m twenty four, not forty four.”

  “Do you have to remind me that I fed into that sexual appetite? I would rather you not.”

  Aw, that makes me sad. I gave it to her good if I remember correctly. It was certainly memorable to me. May I remind you how many times Morty stood at attention and found his happy place with that memory?

  I place my hand over my heart and act like it’s breaking. I turn my mouth into a frown.

  “You hurt my feelings, Turnip. I thought it was something you’d never forget.”

  Cue eye roll…

  There it is!

  “Don’t flatter yourself, you incorrigible ass.”

  I shake my finger at her.

  “Tsk, tsk, Miss Hannum. Using big words again. What’s a guy going to think when he tries to pick you up and you go all smart on him. He may not understand what you’re saying.”

  She starts to walk away from me. I see the hard line her mouth was in before she turned. I yell out to her as I watch her stomp up the dock to the house. I laugh. She hates me.

  “Where ya going?”

  She doesn’t turn around fully, but she yells to me over her shoulder.

  “You are impossible.”

  Oh, my how I love to get this chick all riled up. It gives me great satisfaction. But I only try to kid with her. She needs a sense of humor.

  Poor girl.

  Her stomping away is like an open invitation to apologize.

  This grown up things sucks the life right out of my balls.

  So, after I apologize for the umpteenth time, she forgave me, and now we are all at the beach, soaking up the rays, and playing a mean game of volleyball. I hate to admit this, because I am in no way, shape or form a fucking pussy, but the girls are actually good. We finish the last game (we won, by the way), and I’m in need of some sort of refreshment in the style of one with hops and barley. I motion for Porter to hand me a beer from the cooler he’s sitting on, but he is involved in some sort of deep conversation with Thea. Maybe he’s trying to dazzle her with his vast knowledge of draft beers. Who knows? Don’t care.

  “Porter, man, get your ass off the cooler and grab me a beer, pronto. I worked up a sweat kicking the girls’ asses right out of their bikini bottoms.”

  He grabs me a beer, I flip off the cap and take a long sip.

  “Do you have to be such a douche all the time, or is it just when you haven’t gotten any in a few days?” Willow blatantly calls out from under her oversized sunglasses.

  “Why is my sex life any concern of yours? Maybe you should try to get one.”

  Several noises I’m not sure of come from her mouth. Pauses, sighs, and then a few others.

  “I am perfectly content with my sex life.”

  “Or lack thereof,” Thea mutters to her not as quietly as I think Willow would have liked.

  “Thea Thornton! Whose side are you on anyway?”

  Thea looks like she just realized she put her foot in her mouth, not sure what to say next.

  “Your side, silly. I was kidding.”

  Willow gets up and goes to the cooler Max is sitting on now.

  “And how do you know I haven’t been getting any?” Steam starting to protrude from Harlow’s ears.

  Her hand moves from her side and extends one of them towards me.

  “Well, for starters, the pictures in our house have been securely fastened to the walls this week. No against the wall banging has made them crumble to the floor, unlike last week’s boink fest you had in your room. Tell me again, Cruz, are two vaginas really better than one?”

  Oh, she’s fierce.

  “Actually, Willow. It’s kind of hard sticking it into two vaginas at the same time. I mean it’s big, but I let my fingers do the walking in one, as the big guy here is in the other one.”

  I motion to Morty. I make him proud with my comebacks.

  Of course, I get the ew’s, and the ah’s and the ‘Oh, that’s so gross’.

  “Move it, or lose it, mohawk man.” She thumbs for Max to get up so she can fish out some kind of girly foo-foo drink for herself. Most of the girls drink them, except for Harlow. She’s the beer girl of the group, with the exception of the occasional shot of tequila.

  Max pouts, but does what she says.

  “You are so mean to me. Want me to get my flashlight and find that bug that crawled up your ass?”

  Bad move Max, bad move. She’s already in a mood. I can tell.

  Willow comes eye to eye with Max. She is a few inches taller than him, which is funny. I always enjoy it when a girl pokes a guy in the chest as she gives him an ear full of shit, oh, and when he’s shorter than her.

  “Listen here, short stack, I have no bug up my ass. I am not mean, and you want to know the truth, yea, I need to get laid, just like the rest of you. I need a good, old-fashioned fuck fest. Happy now?” The scowl on her face is one I’d rather not mess with. She’s terrifying.

  She downs the pink-colored contents of her bottle in what seems like one big gulp, swiping at her mouth after.

  Everyone stares. It’s not the words a debutante like her uses, but I don’t think she’s like the others.

  It’s quiet, I mean really quiet.

  Porter, obviously embarrassed by his cousin’s choice of words, shakes his head, and looks at the sand beneath his feet. Max is looking at her like a hungry tiger, and she’s the helpless gazelle, ready to be eaten. Well… maybe it’s the other way around. I see him lick his lips.

  Oh, no buddy, red flag, call the guards, we are at def-con one here.

  I have to stop this, stop the madness, I see that is about to unfold.

  “Ok, people. Enough. Max, what time does your band go on tonight?”

  Max snaps out of his staring contest with Willow long enough to answer me i
n a tiny, pussy like voice.

  “Ten. That reminds me, I, um better go rest up.”

  Max grabs his towel, his eyes still on Willow, and yea, I think I may vomit. He trips over his own two feet and stumbles. I hit my forehead with my hand, closing my eyes tightly, because Max is an ass, and I’d rather not see him fall on it. His ass I mean.

  He jogs up the beach onto the boardwalk and disappears.

  Willow flops back on her chair, and sighs.

  “I’m so going to have him before the summer is over.”

  Porter jumps up from where he was just firmly planted.

  “The hell you will, Willow. He’s my friend. He’s your friend, and friends don’t sleep with each other’s friends, or whatever. It’s just wrong. It complicates things.”

  She stands again, meeting Porter’s eyes, nose to nose, and I think the shit may hit the proverbial fan, again.

  “Oh, yea, well Harlow had sex with Cruz, so what’s that then, huh?”

  Oh, no she just didn’t say that.

  Harlow jumps up, spins Willow around by her arm, and if I was a betting man, I’d say some big, huge, monstrous words are about to fly out of Harlow’s mouth.

  “Willow Taylor! How could you!”

  Oh, I was wrong. I’m shocked.

  Porter has his fingers in his ears, saying ‘la, la, la’ in a sing-song tune, and mumbling, “I didn’t just hear that.”

  Harlow’s fire-like glare burning a whole through Willow.

  This. Is. Classic.

  I’m waiting for them to start ripping each other’s tops off, and then kiss. That would so make my day.

  “Well, my God Harlow, that’s the first thing you said to us after we got back to the house that night. Star tattoo this and star tattoo that. Besides, you guys are past it anyway.”

  Harlow’s anger doesn’t seem to dissipate. Willow’s words only fuel her, and I feel as though I may have to get out of the line of fire.

  “You’re a real bitch, you know that? How immature can you actually be? Now he’s (she means me) going to get off on what you just said. Look at the smirk on his face. Thanks a lot.”

  I do have a smirk. I like that I have a smirk, and I have every reason to have one. She talked about my stars. Oh, yes, my stars. All the ladies want to lick the stars, and then go running to their girlfriends to tell them about them. The stars are almost as good as my C.I.A. story. Almost.

  Gets ‘em every time.

  All’s quiet for a few seconds until Thea saunters up to Porter. Her voice is quiet, like it usually is. She plays with her hands, not really looking up at Porter when she speaks.

  “So friends hooking up with friends is wrong?” She meets his eyes for a second. Her lip looks like it’s quivering, and then she looks back at her hands.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Porter. Thanks.”

  She grabs her stuff and walks off the beach. Porter looks like he’s waging a war with his thoughts. I’m not about to ask what the deal is. Not my concern.

  “Hey, Turnip, relax. I’m not going to bust your chops about it. What’s done is done, right?”

  That’s really not what I’m thinking. I’m going to use this information to my advantage. Now listen, I know we are getting along and trying to find some kind of friendship in all this, but I never said I can’t tease her and get her angry as hell at me. It’s a turn on. I like to see Harlow Hannum a little hot under the collar.

  “I’m sorry I have to apologize for Willow. I didn’t expect her to betray me like that.” Harlow looks genuinely sorry, I almost feel bad for her… almost.

  “Ok, girls. Let’s go back to our houses, rest up, then go out tonight, have a great time and hear Max’s band play.”

  I grab Harlow’s beach chair before she has a chance to stop me, but before I do, I give her a little show.

  I reach up, stretching my arms over my head, letting my swim trunks drop slightly, to reveal, yep, you guessed it…

  “Oh my, oh my. I wonder if the stars will be out tonight. What do you think, Turnip?”

  She’s not paying me too much mind, so I cough. She turns around and gives me the eye roll.

  “I knew it was too good to be true. Put those things away.”

  She gives me a half smile that I didn’t expect, and her cheeks have a touch of red to them. I’m not sure if it’s embarrassment, recognition, or the sun.

  Tonight Max’s band is playing at Jax. It’s the most popular bar here in Sandy Cove. It gets pretty packed, but Max is good friends with the owner, so he reserved a few tables for us, right near the stage, so we can see Max. The girls are late, as usual. They told Porter and me to go ahead without them.

  We saunter up to the bar, grab a few brews, and make our way to the reserved tables. Damn, this place is crawling with hotties tonight. I tap Morty a bit through my jeans and say to him, “Tonight’s going to be a good night for you, bro.” I’m giddy like a school girl. I nod to some of the girls I see. I wink, and graze my upper teeth with my tongue. I flex without doing it like a body builder and adjust my arms a bit to get them to notice, not like they didn’t already.

  I mean, really, look at me.

  The tables at Jax have banquet seats that are aligned enough that everyone sitting at them has a great view of the stage. Porter and I raise our beers, and I make a toast.

  “Here’s to good friends, good music, and the ton of pussy we’re getting tonight. Cheers.” Porter doesn’t return my sentiment. “What the fuck is up with you man? I’m kind of getting tired of your Mr. Rogers, quiet as a church mouse attitude.”

  He scowls at me, not immediately looking at my face, and trying to avoid the question.

  Then he raises his head, looking right past me like I didn’t exist.

  “Holy shit.” He drags the phrase out, jaw agape, and eyes widened to the point of bugging out of his head. I crank my neck to one side, nothing, but then when I move to the other, I realize what the blank expression on his face truly means.

  I repeat after him, “Holy shit!” I emphasize the holy. And with all good reason, which at the moment has my head spinning like the rinse cycle of a washing machine.

  In walks the girls, but they don’t look like our girls. They look… well, they look hot! Dressed to kill. All I see are legs. Some in short skirts, some in dresses, and some in shorts. Legs.

  “My God, are they the same girls we live next door to?” I say it out loud and I had no intention to.

  Willow steps up first. All five feet ten of her, then Thea steps up after her in a short little skirt. Porter looks like he’s about to go ape shit. He doesn’t look too happy, but what I see after Thea walks in, stirs something down below, and makes me take a long, hard drink of my beer. I blink, several times for there is a sight to behold. Harlow Hannum looks like she just stepped out of a fucking magazine. Like the kind I see in the convenience stores.

  Her hair cascading around her shoulders, with soft, wide curls flowing down to lay across her supple breasts. The purple color of her sundress is unusual, but compliments her skin tone. But her legs? It’s her fucking legs that make Morty stand at attention.

  It’s not right, well it is, but it’s not. I’m guessing it’s my natural male testosterone playing part in my sudden boner, but for Harlow, it’s got to calm down. A sudden bulge in my pants is not an option. Also, I’m not dead. I will admit to thinking a girl is pretty, even if it is Harlow.

  Sorry Morty, old boy.

  “Hi,” she says placing her hand on my shoulder.

  “Yo. Beer?” I turn to her, not meeting her eyes.

  “Sure.” She replies, and I spin on my heels to the bar and wait to be served. I reach the bar, and I’m still in shock as to the way she looks tonight and how my body reacted to seeing her dressed up that way. I feel a hand on my shoulder, this time I feel the nails of that hand slowly touch me, from shoulder to wrist.

  “Wow, you have some serious ink. I like it a lot.”

  I glance to see who’s speaking. I come face t
o face with some exotic looking chick, maybe Polynesian. Long, dark hair, bronzed skin, and her lips all pouty and needy. Wonder how they’d feel around my cock? Maybe later, first I have to get Harlow her beer.

  “You like them now, do you baby?”

  She continues to trail her fire engine red nails up and down my ink, alternating between licking and biting her lower lip.

  “Oh, yea, I like a lot. You have them anywhere else.”

  The bartender hands me my beers. I throw money on the bar and turn around, but something catches my eyes, and my brain goes from zero to sixty immediately, observing the scene in front of me.

  It’s almost like when a swarm of flies zeros in on a piece of crap, although instead of flies, they’re guys. Around the girls, smiling, talking to them, licking their lips, and getting ready to go in for the kill. Especially Harlow. I study all of them for a few moments, surveying, waiting to see what their next moves will be.

  My eyes go to Porter, who is standing next to them. I notice the girls not paying any attention to him, but his eyes are on all three of them. I start to make my way over, but the beaut next to me stills my arm.

  “Where are you off to? I want to find out where your other tattoos are.”

  Damn, I could have her right now, and she’s fucking hot, but the big brother vibe in me needs to go over and give the guys flirting with the girls a bit of warning, without words that is.

  “Maybe later, baby. I’ll find you. What’s your name?”

  “Leilani.”

  Polynesian? Sounds hot.

  “Sounds good. And you will get your answer about the rest of my ink.”

  She releases my arm, and I stroll over to the gang. The guys around the girls aren’t as big as me, some are built well, but my stature towers over them. I make my approach, methodically, intimidating even.

  I hand Harlow her beer after I tap her arm. She doesn’t even take her eyes off this guy she’s talking to, she just holds out her hand for me to place the beer in it.

  What the fuck is that all about?

  “You’re welcome, Turnip.”

  The guy she’s talking to snickers.

  “Turnip? What is that?”

  Harlow laughs forcefully at his question. I mean such an exaggerated attempt at a laugh that even I think it’s comical.