Page 67 of The Captain

Instead, I get up too, walking her to my door and smiling when she says good night.

I don’t kiss her.

I don’t reach for her.

I don’t hug her.

But damn if I don’t want that more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.

TWENTY-ONE

Cassie

Present

Tonight was our last night at the cabin, and I couldn’t deny I was more than ready to go home.

Tanner’s friends were…a lot.

They were polite and friendly, and I really liked Robin. She was a great time and kept us girls highly entertained, but as an introvert, this weekend was a bit much for me.

Most everyone was feeling a little drunk and had scampered off to bed not long ago, but I was restless and couldn’t get my brain to shut off. My book wasn’t holding my attention, and I couldn’t bring myself to write anything at the moment. Even though I told myself a weekend getaway in the mountains was the perfect opportunity for me to write, I just couldn’t get my mind into it.

Deciding to go relax in the hot tub on the large deck of the main room, I slip into my swimsuit. I bought this high-waisted one that had a separate top that flowed down around it, and it was dark with what looked like stars on it. It was cute, and I felt pretty in it, but being around everyone else, this was the first time I’d put it on all weekend.

I snag the robe from the back of my bathroom door and secure it around my waist, tiptoeing down the hallway. I pause briefly in front of Lincoln’s door. Why did I want to see if he wanted to come with me?

I shake my head at myself. That was a bad idea. I didn’t know if I was ready for…that again.

The living room is nearly silent, but there’s a faint glow from a deck light outside, and as I step onto it, a head in the already-running hot tub turns to face me.

Lincoln.

Of course.

I turn to head back inside, but he calls out my name, and I hesitate.

“Sunshine.” He tries again, and I ignore the way his nickname for me makes my flesh break out in goose bumps.

Turning, I take a few tentative steps in his direction. A cool breeze from the mountain blows over the deck, making me shiver, and I take in the man in front of me. Of course, he’s shirtless, and the hot water is sliding over his muscled form, the steam of the hot tub rising all around him.

I can only see his shoulders, and yet, it’s affecting me in a way that it shouldn’t.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” I say in an attempt to save myself from how awkward I feel.

I shouldn’t feel that way. This is the man who’s held my heart for the last seven months. This is the man that I’ve opened myself up to in a way that I never have before, with anyone.

He’s seen more of me than anyone.

“You could never bother me,” he replies, settling a hand over the edge and beckoning me closer. Pushing myself forward, my feet carry me toward the hot tub, and for a moment, I want to tuck tail and run.

But then I ask myself why? Why am I scared of him? Why am I running from him when he’s the one who messed up our relationship in the first place?

Feeling a—likely very brief—bit of confidence, I untie my robe and settle it on one of the deck chairs. I ignore his outstretched hand, feeling as if I should assert my independence and prove I don’t need him.

It’s probably a stupid thought, and it may pass, but I do it anyway, climbing the little wooden steps and stepping one foot at a time into the hot water.

I get instant goose bumps on my arms as my legs heat, and I step until I’m in the chair opposite him, placing my back to the house and staring out at the open mountains around us.

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