Page 95 of Until Then

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” I take a small sip, and when the cool liquid hits my throat, I guzzle the rest of the bottle. “It already has me thinking about other stuff we could do.”

He plucks another water from the cooler. “Care to share your ideas?”

“For starters”—I tap my lips, like I’m working it out, even though the thought is on the tip of my tongue—“I want to blow you while you’re driving the boat.”

He bangs his knee into the cooler with a curse. “Jesus Christ, Izzy.”

“You don’t like the idea?” I tease, fighting the urge to laugh.

Hands on his hips, he looks up to the sky, probably praying to the heavens and asking for guidance when it comes to me.

Even though I’m exhausted and thoroughly fucked, just looking at him gets me hot and bothered. Lean and muscular, thick thighs, a light smattering of hair on his chest. Even the hints of gray in his hair and scruff turn me on.

Derrick Crawford islethal, and he doesn’t even know it.

“This boat is going to be desecrated when we’re done with it, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah.” I nod vigorously. “You’ll never be able to sell this thing.”

He shakes his head, his eyes twinkling with delight. “I have no plans to. Do you want to stay out longer or head home?”

Home.

My chest expands at the single word.

I stretch my sore arms and let out a long exhale. “Let’s go home.”

With a nod, he gets to work pulling the anchor up. As much as I want to get down on my knees and take him in my mouth on the ride back to the dock, I don’t. I’ll have to keep him waiting and wondering for that one.

27

DERRICK

A knockon the front door startles me awake. Wonton, who’s been snoozing on my chest, jolts, then uses my stomach as a springboard to launch himself over the back of the couch to bark at the door.

“Fuck,” I groan, rubbing at my chest. The dog might be small, but those little paws are like needles when he uses that much force.

There’s another knock, and then, “Grandpa!”

Rolling to my side, I snatch my phone off the coffee table and check the timeandthe date.

Was I supposed to watch Lilibet today?

With a groan, I heave myself off the couch. I worked on site today while Izzy met with the owners of the restaurant to talk design ideas, and she hasn’t come back yet.

“Dad?” Another knock.

I stagger to the door, and when I yank it open, I throw a hand up to block the sun. “Sorry,” I rasp. “I fell asleep on the couch.”

“Hey,” Layla says, her smile almost shy. We haven’t spoken much since I told her and Reid about Izzy. I’ve been trying to give her space, figuring she’ll come to me when she’s ready. “Can you watch Lili for a while? Greta asked if I could pick up a shift. I don’t want to say no to extra money.”

For years, Layla spent her summers working at Greta’s Fish House, one of the restaurants on the pier. Except for the occasional shift when Greta needed help, she didn’t last summer, since she was busy working for Izzy.

“Yeah, of course.” I step back and pull the door open wider. “You know I’ll always look after Lili.”

“Yay!” My granddaughter plows past me into the house with a bag slung over her shoulder and a handheld gaming system dangling from her fingers.

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