Damn, I love this girl. “You know,” I say, “since you went down on me, I think I owe you a favor.” I toss her towel to the floor, pressing my fingers between her legs, causing her to moan instantly.
“Boone,” she murmurs. “We’re so late.”
“Fuck that,” I tell her. “You’re my woman. They can wait until your pussy is happy.”
“Where did you come from, Boone?” she asks, as I grab her ass, lifting her up. She wraps her legs around me and I carry her to our bed.
“I’ve always been here, just waiting for you.” I kneel on the floor, tugging her legs to the edge of the bed, and spreading her knees so I can lick her perfect folds. Leaving kisses on her inner thigh, I press my mouth to her clit, licking her length as she sinks lower into the bed.
“I’m here, Boone,” she sighs. “I’m here.”
And I know she is. And tonight, we’ll make promises of forever.
Chapter Eighteen
Delta
I spend the day running around, full of anxious energy. Finally, there’s a break in the work at the front desk, and I pick up the landline late in the afternoon, trying to call Everly and Amelia. I’ve been trying them all week, and never once have I gotten through.
I just really want to check in with them, to make sure everything is okay—and also to tell them that yeah, I didn’t take this seriously before but now I do.
Miraculously Amelia picks up the third time I call.
“Hello?” I say. “Oh my God, Amelia. How are you?”
The reception is spotty, I can only hear a muffled voice and every third word. “Okay ... can’t ... he won’t ... leaving....”
“What?” I ask. “I can’t hear you.”
“I can’t ... good ... sex.”
It’s so frustrating, having Amelia on the phone, but not getting a clear conversation.
“I’ll have to call Monique and get a landline to reach you. You aren’t coming through, Amelia,” I tell her, so disappointed.
“You ... married?”
Thinking I may have made out her words, I say, “Me? Not married yet. But tomorrow. Tomorrow I will be.” I’m smiling at the words, and the swell of emotion gives me the confirmation I need. Boone and I are going to be okay. More than okay. I never expected to really fall for someone ... but here I am, not able to imagine a life with anyone else.
Yanking the phone from my ear, I’m startled by the sounds. I swear someone is screaming from her end.
“You okay, Amelia? Is someone upset?”
“Can’t ... believe ... baby ...”
Then her line goes dead, and when I try to call her back, there’s no answer. Dammit. Did she say something about a baby?
No freaking way.
Sally comes into the foyer with a basket of folded bed sheets.
“Everything okay, sweetheart?” she asks. “You look like you just heard bad news.”
“No, not bad. For a second I thought my friend said something about a baby.” Shaking my head, I wish I’d had a clear conversation with Amelia. “Hey, are the guys back from today’s fishing trip yet?”
“Sure are, honey.” Sally smiles as she heads to the staircase. “They’re down at the dock. Oh, and nice work with the yoga class. All the women were raving about it at lunch today.”
I grin, loving the rush of being good at something. Finding my footing. Being grounded in the most unexpected way.
“Thanks for telling me that, Sally.” As I walk away, I know I’m beaming. Starting the yoga class was awesome, and it went so well. It makes me see that I have a place here, a life here. It confirms everything I already know. This is my home.
And I’m unable to wait any longer. I’ve been waiting all day. I need to talk to Boone, need to tell him how I really feel.
I leave the foyer through the front door and take a shortcut, toward the outbuilding where most of the fishing gear is stored at the end of each day. And yes, this building makes my stomach slightly sour, mostly because of the fishy smell, but also because I’m learning that men are really just grown-up boys. They still smell, are still dirty, and still forget to lift the toiletseat.
But damn, there is something else about living with a man that makes me hot as hell. Boone has early morning hard-ons, always ready for me; he has chiseled abs that I can rake my fingers across; he has strong hands that know exactly what they like to grab. Mostly cheeks. My ass or my face. And he loves to kiss too, often. I’d never refuse his bearded jaw rubbing against my bare skin.
And here he is in the outbuilding, wearing a red flannel shirt, setting a fishing rod back in place. I wrap my arms around his waist, inhaling him.