I’m glad his sunglasses are on. I hate how sad his eyes get when I mention her name. Like he’s a failure because he couldn’t make it work. He leaves his hands on the small of my waist. “You aren’t Stella. I never felt an ounce of what I feel for you for her. Do you understand? I would never jeopardize what we have. You mean more to me than some one night stand in whatever city I’m staying in. That’s saying it like I mean it, Caroline.” He shakes his head. “Never, and I mean never, doubt my affection for you.”
It’s nice to hear and it does comfort me, but he does still look like a man that every woman wants. “You look so…handsome. Don’t you get hit on constantly?”
He chuckles. “You’re worried about other women hitting on me? I like a bit of jealousy, but now you’re going overboard.” Tahoe brushes my bottom lip with both of his thumbs. “I don’t get hit on because I’m rarely in that kind of situation. I won’t be any more especially. Remember this mission is a one off for me. I’ll be home in no time.
I hop up, throw my hands around his neck and accidentally knock his sunglasses off his face. The sun is setting, but I can still see his monster eyes.
Instead of picking up his sunglasses, he’s watching my face for a reaction. “Keep them off. It gives you an edge.”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You’re scared of me. I saw it.”
Putting my hands on his stomach, I coax him with a few rubs. “I need to get used to your red eyes if you don’t want to wear the sunglasses constantly, Tahoe. Leave them off and let me get used to it.” I stoop to pick them up for him. He examines them and slides them into his t-shirt.
“Fine. I’ve had just enough to drink to not give a shit, but Caroline?”
“Yes?”
He shakes his head. “Never compare me to other men. That’s not fair.”
My face heats with guilt. “I’m sorry,” I say, interlacing my hands. “Britt said something and I should have just brushed it off. You’ve never done anything to indicate anything but perfection.”
He lowers his voice. “All these people are jealous of you. All of them. Not because of me, either. Because of you.” He aims one finger at my chest. “I’m not perfect,” he says, backing away from me. “Not even close. I’ve told you there’s no one else for me and I meant it.”
I’m standing there thinking about various different things. Mostly about how much I love him and how much losing him would hurt. The cheating scenario is there because she said it, but is that how Britt actually feels? I can’t blame her for acting the way she does. It’s unapologetically heinous.
I hand over my piss beer. “Here. Get back to your friends,” I say.
He swallows the solo cup full down in one deep swig. “I’ll find you in a bit. I want you to show me around here. Don’t be talking to any naysayers while I’m gone.” He grins, starts backing away from me, but then lunges forward and pulls me in for a world halting kiss.
I hear manly cheering and I know catty, quiet stares are abound, too.
But for once, I truly don’t care.
Comraderie
Tahoe
Only a couple dudes from Bronze Bay are brave enough to approach us. It was curiosity, but we were nice enough that they stayed and started drinking keg beer with us. I like that they are comfortable with us enough to hang out because it means we are making progress in being considered locals, and they tell us shit about the town we don’t know. They’re like clueless informants we can be friends with. Last I saw Caroline, she was with a group of girls and her face wasn’t completely miserable looking, so she must be having an okay time. She’s steered clear of Britt and Whit, though I haven’t seen the latter since we spoke earlier. There’s that many people here right now. It’s impressive.
I’m pissed Caroline doubts my feelings for her, even if the doubt came from a woman scorned, but at this point in my evening I’m so drunk that it’s hard to decipher any of my emotions. Leif went off to try to woo Malena back into his car like some horny high schooler, and Aidan is next to me shooting the shit with a few of our other teammates. We’re telling stories, getting caught up in the past. This is what I need. The atmosphere is intoxicating—the salty ocean air breezes in every once in a while, and now that I’m getting used to the heat, I can appreciate the warmth in the air. We’re sitting around a bonfire, and one of the guys switched us to bourbon about an hour ago. I considered not drinking my share, but didn’t turn it down either. Now, the world around me is a nice shade of fuzzy fuck all.
My eyes are fucked all to shit. The doc says I should be happy I still have my vision, but they look like hell. Literally. The drunker I get, the more I forget about the injury until someone talks to me and their eyes widen as they notice it.
“What the fuck are you on, dude?” a guy asks, slinking down on a wide tree stump next to me. He works at the home improvement store in town. I recognize the scar on his face.
Swallowing the last sip in my own cup, I toss it to the ground and reply with the truth. He listens intently, but he’s just as drunk as I am so I’m sure the story sounds like an elaborate cover for drug addiction or the likes. To change the subject I ask him about the brass drawer pulls I ordered last week and he just stares at me. Granted, I slurred through a couple of words, but he knows I’m done explaining.
Leaning in closer to my face, he repeats, “Your eyes are so fucked up.”
One time in a bar in Texas I knocked out a guy for breathing in my space. He was also fucking up my game with the brunette of the night. The chick ended up getting wet because she dug assholes, and what is more of an asshole move than knocking out another dude for smiling too wide? Not much. “Get out of my face,” I say, making sure my smile is equal parts threat as it is gleeful.
He shakes his head and leans back. “Want to go canoeing?” he says, hiking his thumb over his shoulder. “They keep a bunch of canoes over there. You can paddle out to the river from here if you’re strong enough to make it.” The challenge makes me laugh. “Some of us race at the end of the night.” I look to my right to see if my buddies have heard.
“Something I can’t resist,” I coo. “Sloppy drunk I will crush you.” I nod to his face. “That what happened to your face? Get a little too drunk and crash your baby boat?”
He stands, shaking his head. “Nah, car accident,” he replies. “I’d gladly scar the other side of my face if it means beating you assholes.”
My teammates are in the conversation now—the spark of a challenge lighting them like a strand of Christmas lights. One by one, they decide it’s the best idea they’ve heard all month. Others join my hardware employee friend on their side and we swagger and sway down to the inlet. Our proverbial guns loaded. Solar powered lights line a seashell path on the ground, but I stumble into one, crushing it into shards. Leif calls out from behind and I turn toward his voice.
