Giving In (The Sandy Cove Series Book 1) (16 page)

We pull up to the new bar/restaurant called
The Boat Stop. It’s a bit posh, unlike the places down here we
usually go to. The place is a bit crowded, and it’s a mixture of
young and old. Money comes here. This I am sure of because I come
from it. I can see by the clientele. We step in and make our way to
a few tables we spot over near the docks. It’s a beautiful night to
be outside. A light breeze flows off the bay, and I love watching
the boats pull in. I love boats. I don’t like to be on one,
actually I hate it, but I can appreciate their architecture.

Craw goes to hang with the guys, and the girls
and I sit at a table. We talk about the place and about how
Willow’s dad is going to love it when he comes down. The area used
to be the site of an old boat yard for fishing vessels in the late
1800’s. There’s a lot of history here, and I remind myself to
research it more. I’m a history buff. I like old things.

Cruz makes his way to our table and asks us if
we need anything from the bar. We give him our orders, and thank
him as he arrives back after a few minutes. He hands us our drinks
and slides into the seat next to me. My seat is situated so I have
a perfect view of the boats docking. Their lights and hard lines,
the sleek, sexiness of the boats captivates my attention. Craw
comes over to join us and takes a seat next to the girls. Cruz
turns and talks into my ear, “You look nice tonight, Turnip. I like
this preppy sweater thingy you have going on here.” He picks at my
cardigan sweater, and I swat at his hand. He chuckles and turns his
head to look at a few girls who just walked in the door. Craw
mouths to me, “Friends my ass.” I kick him under the table, and he
laughs. We keep the conversation light, discussing nothing in
particular. How tomorrow is the 4th of July, and the activities we
all have planned. A bar-b-que at our houses and fireworks on the
beach at night. Sounds like a perfect day. There’s something to be
said about fireworks. They surprise you, coming at you without
warning. They are full of color and vibrancy, displaying their
brilliance as they capture your attention. There’s an intimacy
about them as well, I interpret them like that. Even though
thousands of people see the same thing, I feel like they can be my
own private show. Bursting out in the sky just for me.

My thoughts of fireworks and bar-b-ques suddenly
turn to panic. My gut clenches. The acid in it turns, and my eyes
well with unshed tears. Willow looks at my face, knowing damn well
that I see something I don’t care to see. My solitude is suddenly
lost in an image, and as it approaches, it seeks me out like a
hunter who finally spots his next meal. My mind whirls around at
the sight of his eyes, the way they hold me captive, his lips, and
the way he sticks his tongue out to graze his own top lip, and the
way he saunters over towards my table. The hunter appears to be
ready to strike, and my breathing becomes heavy and labored. Willow
leans over and whispers, “What is it, Harlow? What’s wrong?” The
sheer panic in her voice makes her whip her head around to every
angle until she spots the hunter.

“Oh, Christ. Harlow, look at me.”

I can’t.

I can’t tear my eyes away. She grabs my hands
and tells me sternly, “Harlow, I said look at me.” I do. I focus on
her face, seeing my reflection in her eyes due to the fact I’m
focusing so hard. She speaks to Craw without breaking her eye
contact with me.

“Craw, I think we need to leave, slowly, without
making a scene. Do you understand me?” I don’t see Craw’s face, I
only hear his words. “Mother fucker.”

Then I hear Cruz’s voice. “What the hell is
going on? Turnip? What’s wrong with her?”

I do something again so out of character for me.
It’s difficult to comprehend why I do it, but I do it anyway. I
break my eye contact with Willow, pull my hands away from hers, and
turn my head to Cruz. He looks just as panicked as I am. He
searches my eyes for an answer, but I don’t give him one. I only
say what I feel I must at that moment.

“Cruz, kiss me, now.”

He pulls back, trying to understand the
question, or rather the demand.

“Kiss me now, quickly.”

He smirks. His facial expression bordering on
annoyance, and he sits upwards in his chair with defiance.

“I am not kissing you, Harlow. You’ve got to be
crazy.”

Wrong choice of words at this present time, my
friend.

I search his blue eyes, suddenly taking my hand
to his broad, hard chest. I snake it upwards towards his thick
neck, scraping my nails on his taut skin. As I do so, I say
strongly and without fear, “Maybe I am, but if you don’t kiss me
now, I’ll be forced to make you. I’ll be the one.” He hesitates,
his mouth slightly parted, and he manages a sigh. I look to my
right and see that the hunter is almost at his target, and in a
desperate move to convey to him the importance of this act, I
whisper, “I warned you.” And I pull his face to mine. My lips touch
his, and my tongue darts out to part his lips. The stubbornness of
his lips infuriates me, so as my hand reaches up to lock in his
unruly brown locks. I feel Cruz’s body relax, and he parts his lips
for my welcomed tongue. I slip it inside, tasting him, whipping it
around inside his mouth, his tongue bathing mine. The twists and
turns of them together, almost in a battle it seems. The subtle
moans I hear coming out of his mouth, and I taste him. My eyes are
tightly shut, and his hand grasps my hip, pulling me towards him
even more. One more inch and I know I’ll be in his lap. I can feel
his teeth hit mine, biting at my lower lip, teasing it. As I feel a
familiar ache begin to build between my thighs, I see stars. My
eyes are shut so steadfastly, temporarily making me forget the
purpose of my actions. I see. I see…

Fireworks.

That’s until I hear the hunter speak.

“Baby, I’ve missed you.” My eyes spring open
like a jack-in-the-box, but I still keep my focus on the man whose
eyes are before me. He licks his lower lip, bringing his free hand
up to touch it, and I break my gaze from his when he does so. I
look at Willow and Craw, whose expressions I’m not sure I’m reading
correctly. Theirs is a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“Baby, did you hear me?” The hunter’s words then
bring me back to the reality that he is here, the hunter has found
his prey. I turn my eyes to him, not being able to escape his voice
as it reverberates through my soul. I need to maintain cool
composure and act like his presence is like that of anyone else who
says hi to me.

“Oh, hey. What are you doing all the way down
here?”

The hunter leans both his hands on the table,
gripping it, so he can steady his long, lean body.

“Daddy let me take his boat down here this
weekend. He heard about the opening of this place, and told me it
was good for her to stretch her legs down this way. What’s, um,
going on here?”

Craw stands up, his chair falling behind him
from the force of his abrupt move.

“None of your fucking business. Get out of here,
asshole, before I throw you out myself.” Willow grabs hold of
Craw’s arm, pulling him down, as she sets the flipped over chair
up, willing Craw to sit.

The hunter straightens his body up and waves his
hands at Craw.

“Whoa, just relax little brother, I only came to
say hi to Harlow. I’m meeting a few friends here so I’m not
staying, unless she wants me to. Do you want me to stay, baby?”

He sounds like he’s asking me, but he’s not,
he’s actually telling me. To the outside world, it appears he’s
asking, but I know him and his games and how he lures in his
prey.

I don’t answer him, but the hunter’s curiosity
about the man I was just kissing comes full circle.

He extends his hand to Cruz. “Hi there. I don’t
think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Chad Knox.” I sneak a
glance at Cruz, who looks confused, but takes Chad’s hand anyway,
and I hear Cruz say, “Chad… Chad. Nice to meet you.”

“Don’t say it’s nice to meet this son of a
bitch. Get the hell out of here, Knox. I’m not fucking kidding.”
Craw never holds his words back when speaking to Knox. Chad exudes
a small laugh and seems to back away from the table the slightest
bit.

“Fine, have it your way. Baby, when you’re done
playing around with Mr. Tattoo, I’ll be at my Uncle Dan’s house on
4th Street, if you want to talk. I’ll be there all week. I hope you
do come to see me, baby. I’ve really missed you.”

He acknowledges Willow, then Craw, who remains
silent, but provides him with the standard one-finger salute. When
he retreats and walks to his party, I relax just the slightest bit
in my seat. I touch my lips, feeling the swell of them, and I
remember what I just did. I turn to Cruz.

“Oh, God, Cruz, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He
runs his large hand over his face, scratching at his stubble. His
eyes wander around the room, and every time he opens his mouth to
speak, only sounds I’m not sure what they are, come out.

“I’ll fucking kill that mother fucker, so help
me God. Har, are you ok?”

“I’m… I’m fine, Craw. Cruz?” He doesn’t look at
me, and I think I may have just ruined our friendship. My hand
finds his arm, and I grasp it.

“Cruz?” He finally looks at me, his eyes
tense.

“An ex-boyfriend I presume?”

“Mother fucker is more like it,” Craw says as he
pulls out a cigarette to light, but just holds it between his lips.
I wait with bated breath for Cruz to say something, anything. Tell
me to fuck off, whatever.

“You let him call you baby?” When he says it, it
stuns me, and I can’t help to feel a pang in my heart when he does
so.

With those words, he gets up out of his chair,
throws a few dollars on the table and walks away.

So he met the one we do not speak of, and I wish
he hadn’t. I had to kiss him. I had to show Chad he doesn’t have
me. His powers are useless against me, and I can move on.

But in actuality, I didn’t. I just used Cruz as
a decoy, a distraction from reality. The reality that I caused. I
wanted to go talk to Chad, but I have to be strong, fight the
forces of evil that invade me. I need to talk to Dr. Goldberg
tonight. I need my therapeutic sessions with him on the phone, or
even more so, my early morning therapeutic session on the dock with
a cop.

But will he give me the therapy I deserve, or
did I lose that too?

When I touch my lips, I try to hold back the
ache that has surfaced. A familiar one. I never thought a kiss
could set me on fire, especially one that I initiated. My belly
rolled. I lost all sense of reality, thinking and feeling things
that I haven’t in a very long time. Not since last year. But how
could that be? I grabbed him and brought his lips to mine just like
that fateful night a year ago. It was that same feeling of
excitement, adventure, raw sexual emotion, passion, lust, and any
other words I can use to describe in a sexual nature. However,
thinking of Cruz in that way has rendered me confused. I can’t stop
touching my lips. They burn, the blood coursing through them,
throbbing. I know what he tasted like, what he smelled like. What
it was like to have his tongue duel against mine. Sharing a kiss
like that so intimately, but yet surrounded by so many makes my
pulse quicken. Again, I did something out of sorts for me. This is
what this man does to me, he makes me do things beyond my control,
and I have to be in control. I am reckless when I’m with him, I am
not the girl who hid under her blankets for over a year. I am not
the girl who uses big words to impress people or scare them off. I
don’t need to be that way around Cruz. I can be me. Harlow
Hannum.

My lips still ache and I wonder when the feeling
will leave me, or would I want it to.

“Hi, Dr. Goldberg. I know it’s not one of our
regularly scheduled sessions, and I know it’s late but I needed to
speak to you.”