Page 117 of Bottle Shock
“How about a braid? I think it would look pretty running down your back.”
Her eyes light up, meeting the reflection of mine. “You’re full of surprises, Ledger.”
I roll my lips, biting a smile, and take that as a yes.
My fingers work quickly, musclememory from years of doing Lily’s hair. Except this feels different. Scottie’s hair is thicker, silkier, longer.
I separate the sections and start weaving them over one another, slow and steady. Her shoulders relax with each pass of my fingers, like she didn’t realize how tense she was until now.
“You’re very gentle,” she says quietly.
“Lily is a very tough client. A little terrifying.”
That earns me a laugh.
I keep working the braid down the length of her back, tying it off with the band before letting the tail fall at the center of her back. A neat, smooth line of woven copper against her spine.
“There,” I say. “All done.”
She spins and looks over her shoulder at the braid cascading down.
“You did good,” she muses. “I might just have to keep you.” She giggles and then stares at it a bit more before putting on some jewelry to finish off the look.
Meanwhile, I’m stuck on her words, even though they were said in jest.
Because I’d love nothing more than to to be kept by her.
The Landing is located in the heart of downtown Wallula Lake, right on the water. It’s a rustic looking building with big windows and cedar beams adorned with string lights. The deck overlooks the marina, boats bobbing lazily against their ropes.
Maggie and Carl are already seated at a table near the back patio, and wave us over.
Carl stands to shake my hand and Maggie hugs Scottie, complimenting her dress.
We haven’t seen Andy since the bonfire, and I thought maybe he’d left, but I was wrong. He’s here. Joining us.
Scottie and I sit side-by-side, our knees brushing under the table ever so often. You’d think an innocent touch like that wouldn’t really affect me, especially since we’ve been more intimate, but each little smidge of contact sends a jolt right to my groin. I can’t imagine ever not wanting this woman. Viscerally. Constantly. Forever.
She smiles at me, a happy, easy smile, and it makes my heartbeat kick up just being on the receiving end of it.
Scottie recaps our hike and cliff jump to Carl and Maggie, who are completely enthralled in her story. She doesn’t explain things like most people. Everything is animated and exaggerated and detailed. She tells a story like an artist would paint a picture, no detail left unturned, yet whoever is lucky enough to listen can’t get enough of it.
“Sounds like you two had a fun day,” Maggie says. “I dragged Carl around antiquing and it about wiped us out.”
Carl grunts, like he didn’t have the greatest time, but his gaze is soft as he looks at Maggie.
The server comes by, takes our drink orders, and the conversation drifts into easy, familiar territory. Carl tells a story about some guy at the marina who tried to launch his boat without taking off the straps—Scottie is nearly crying laughing by the time he gets to the part where the thing was hanging sideways off the trailer, completely suspended.
Andy chimes in here and there, but not much, keeping one hand curled around his glass of whiskey. His eyes track Scottie more than the conversation, more than the lake view, more than anything else at this table.
The food arrives. Conversation quiets for a bit as everyonedigs in. The lake outside glows gold with the dipping sun. The breeze is warm.
Which is when Carl clears his throat, using his napkin to dab his mouth.
“So,” he says casually, “we wanted to talk to you both about the house.”
Scottie stills beside me.
“We want to sell it to you,” Maggie says. “If you still want it.”
