Page 13 of Beach Reads
I know I’ve been in my head when Darla’s husky voice makes me jolt. She’s standing right next to me, her elbows propped on the bar while she waits to be served, and fuck, for the last three days, I’ve been hyper-aware of this girl. Tuned into every half smile and each turn of her head; noting her habit of absent-mindedly patting her pockets; wanting to smooth down the curling collar of her black polo shirt. Wanting to tug her against my chest, and feel all her softness against my hard frame.
I’ve memorized Darla. I know every dip and swell and surface of her body; I know exactly how she’d fit to my hands, if I ever got to touch her. How her silky blonde hair would feel, sliding through my fingers. How she’d sigh.
I’m obsessed. So deep under her spell. Then she sneaks up on me?
“Jesse Hendry is a very serious guy.” God, I sound bitter. That’s not good, so I force a blinding smile. “Haven’t you heard?”
But Darla’s not buying it. She hums, hazel eyes tracing over my features like a caress, lingering on my dimples, before she turns to the bartender and orders a soda.
“I’m driving,” she tells me casually. She changed out of herRiptidepolo before coming here, and the way her blue wrap dress hugs her curves makes my throat ache. “Ferrying Franklin around like the queen.”
I raise my own bubbly water. “Welcome to the clear heads club.”
Me, I’m not driving, but I want to look over that email again later. Research the project, and see what I can dig up about the director. I need all my brain cells accounted for.
Would Darla think it’s dumb—my going out for another role? Shit, would she tell her uncle?
“You want to get out of here?”
It takes a few seconds to realizeIasked the question. Darla blinks at me, a full bottle of soda in her hand. Beads of condensation cling to the glass, trickling over her soft-looking fingers, and she literally just told me she’s driving Franklin tonight. Dumbass.
“Oh.” Darla tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I—um—”
“Forget it. Sorry. Finish your drink.” I push away from the bar, my uncharacteristic dour mood following me like my own personal rain cloud. “I need to get home anyway. Big rescue scene tomorrow. You know how it is.”
“Jesse—”
I hit her with my most dazzling, most practiced smile as I step past, and Darla scowls like I stomped on her foot. My steps falter for half a breath, but I push forward, nudging my way through the loosely-packed crowd.
It’s so hot in here. Muggy and humid, with a sticky wooden floor.
No one stares at me in this bar anymore; the cast and crew ofRiptideare old news in this joint, thank god. The door to thestreet creaks open, and I step out into the fading light and cool spots of rain.
The singing and chatter of the bar fade away as the door swings shut behind me. Further along down the street, a truck rumbles around a corner, and if you peer through the gaps in the buildings, you can see the ocean from here.
“Shit,” I say with feeling, shoving my hands in my pockets. The cool air makes my cheeks feel even hotter. “Shit.”
I really need to get my head on straight. Need to land that pilot.
And I need to give poor Darla some damn space, because she’s made it pretty clear how she feels over the last few days with her careful distance, keeping me at arm’s length with her polite smiles.
Darla’s not interested in a washed-up star.
Honestly. Who can blame her?
* * *
“We need to talk.” Darla pushes the bottle of water into my hand the next morning, gripping my elbow and dragging me a short distance away from the other lifeguards. A couple of them watch us go, openly curious, but mostly they’re gulping down their drinks and swabbing towels over their chests, lost to everything outside the take we just did and the next one coming.
I remember that focus. That immersion.
Maybe I’d get that feeling again on this pilot.
I raise my palms as Darla rounds on me, embarrassment stiffening my spine. “We don’t need to do this. I got the message, okay? Loud and clear.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, the valley of her cleavage suddenly even deeper through her polo shirt collar, and fuck. I want to lick it. I want to slide my fingers down there. Iwant her topless and flushed, bending over my lap, squeezing my cock between her magnificent tits.
And that’s why I’m getting this lecture. Fucking hell.
