Had To Be You (21 page)

“What’s the plan?” Kevin asked. “We can’t just stop drinking now.”

“No,” Matt agreed. “Because that might be advisable.”

“They’ve got a good band playing up the Boathouse tonight,” Jill suggested, her bikini disappearing under the striped sundress she had slipped over her head. “Drinks are cheap. And so are we.”

Rory noticed Kevin hesitate and she made a point to catch Matt’s eye. His brother was the youngest of the bunch, a month shy of twenty-one. Matt gave her a quizzical frown, but then seemed to understand.

“They’re not gonna card you there, bro,” he tried to assure him.

The Boathouse was a private club, a townie exclusive if there ever were such a thing, and therefore its rules regarding the legal drinking age were a bit lax.

“It’s not that.” Kevin grimaced. “I think Mom and Dad said earlier that they were going there for dinner.”

“Yeah, for the early bird lobster special in the restaurant downstairs. We’re going up to the bar on the top deck.”

Kevin still seemed skeptical.

“You want to go someplace else?” Rory jumped in, empathizing with him. They shared a more cautious nature that his brother did not. “We’ll go someplace else. Not a big deal.”

Matt’s smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he finished packing things away and started hosing down his deck. “The lady has spoken.”

“No,” Kevin replied with a sudden determination, exchanging glances with Adam. “No, forget it. Let’s just go.”

They all headed up the dock, sun-bronzed from a day out on the water, sunglasses propped on heads. Matt made one last sweep of the boat to make sure it was secure and Rory held back, waiting for him as the others made their way up the swaying ramp.

He jogged up, his eyes as blue as the water behind him. When he reached her side, she leaned in, bumping shoulders playfully.

“I kind of got the impression that was a little bit more about who he was with, rather than where we were going. But your parents have to know on some level by now, right?” she asked, speaking softly even though they were yards behind.

“Yeah, you’d have to think so,” Matt said. “Maybe they want him to just come out and say it, or bring a guy home for the first time. I don’t know, it’s hard to tell. You know they aren’t exactly known for their progressive, enlightened way of thinking.”

Upon arrival, they climbed the staircase that scaled the side of the gray-shingled building on the pier until they reached the roof deck where the thumping beat of live music carried out on the wind. Rum drinks were served in plastic cups, and the beer flowed from tapped kegs, but it attracted just as much of the elite yachting crowd as it did the local lobstermen.

They found a spot to claim as their own. Matt surprised Rory with a drink—something fruity, though no doubt deadly—but for every sip that made it into her mouth, some more splashed onto the sticky floor as the music stirred and jostled the crowd around them.

“Where’s yours?” she asked, needing to raise her voice to be heard.

Matt lifted his empty hands. “I’m good. Besides, someone has to watch out for you.”

She dropped her mouth open, mostly just pretending to be outraged.

“I am fine, thank you very much!”

He just grinned and laughed, and his hand smoothed up and down her back in a quick, reassuring caress. Jill appeared at that moment, draped over Trevor as he hooked his arms through her slim legs and hiked her up on his back.

“I need food!” she said with a pout, arms around his neck as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

“Come on, drunky,” he said, but with affection. “I’ll go grab you a burger or crabby patty or something downstairs.” He glanced back to them. “Hey, have you seen Kevin and Adam?”

Rory and Matt shook their heads. They had been so wrapped up in each other, it was easy to lose track of everyone else.

“Okay, I’ll go see if we can find them. I’m hoping the kitchen is still open downstairs. We’ll be back.”

Rory returned her attention to the band, glancing up at their ceiling of open starlight, and took another brief sip of her cocktail before placing it down on the bar. She preferred to drink in the ocean air.

Eventually, she turned to him with a slow smile.

Matt only had to catch a glimpse of the look in her eyes. “Oh, no,” he laughed skeptically. “Uh-uh. No way. You’re not getting me out there.”

“Please?”

“Don’t give me that look!” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not fair.”

Rory grasped the front of his shirt, fisting the cotton fabric in her hand as she started to move away from the bar towards open floor. Underneath, her fingers grazed all his solid warmth. She wanted to feel more of him, and wanted him to feel all of her.

“Why isn’t it fair?”

The crowd opened briefly, then like the tide moved in all around to push them up close. He was smiling down at her now in this proximity, head bowed, lips almost close enough to kiss.

“Because you turn those big, beautiful eyes on me and you know I can’t resist. I’ve never been able to.”

His large hands skimmed down to hold her at her waist, and Rory slid hers up the solid wall of his chest before encircling his neck. They swayed to the music a moment before he grasped her, twirling her out around and then right back into his arms. Laughing, she draped her arms around him, and nestled her head into that perfect spot. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the leftover sunshine and sea air, all those scents that were uniquely him. He stroked the back of her hair before his arm encircled her waist to hold her that much closer.

“Matt!” Trevor suddenly burst through the crowd, looking alarmed. “You need to get downstairs. Now!”

He didn’t hesitate. Rory followed as best she could as he pushed through the crowd, and then the three of them clattered down the flight of wooden plank steps outside. She spotted Kevin immediately in the parking lot below, bitter tears streaking his face. Mr. O’Shea was there and he was shouting something at him. Jill stood a few feet away, looking sick with worry.

“Just walk away, Dad! Go ahead!” Kevin yelled. “Turn your back! You’ve been doing it your whole life—don’t stop now!”

“What’s going on?” Matt demanded, and placed himself between them.

“Get him out of my sight!” Mr. O’Shea growled. He then pointed a finger at Matt. “I’m holding you responsible for this, by the way. Him in here, stinkin’ drunk and underage! What’s your mother supposed to think?”

“I’m right here! Talk to me—not Matt!” The volume of Kevin’s voice went up, breaking Rory’s heart a bit when it cracked with emotion. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? What people think? Well, screw you. I won’t embarrass you anymore.”

With that, he took off, running away through the lot. Mr. O’Shea just shook his head in a show of disgust and walked back into the restaurant.

Matt sighed, muttering a few harsh curse words under his breath.

“We have to go find him,” Rory said.

He nodded in agreement. “My truck is still down the marina.”

From the others’ accounts of the incident, they gathered that Kevin (full of some misguided liquid courage) had actually gone in the restaurant with the intention of confronting his father, and to flaunt his relationship with Adam—who, of course, promptly left, not wanting any part of that family drama.

It was so completely out-of-character, in such direct opposition to his quiet and sensitive nature that Rory couldn’t imagine the hurt and embarrassment he must be experiencing now. She understood, however, the feeling of wanting to hide out from the world.

They checked first at the boat, and then drove around town for what felt like hours, checking everywhere, calling his friends. Matt’s concern gradually lost its edge of irritation and worry creased deep in his brow.

“Where the hell did this kid go?”

Rory reached over to give his hand a gentle squeeze. “He couldn’t go far. Maybe he’s back at the boat by now. It’s somewhere to sleep, right?”

Matt almost smiled as he glanced over to meet her eyes. It had been their place once, on summer nights very much like this.

When they returned to the marina parking lot it was nearly deserted, so the faint glimmer of light from the port window of Matt’s boat stood out like a tiny beacon. Rory eased into a tentative sense of relief as he parked and they climbed out of the Jeep, but she lagged behind as Matt hopped aboard and head below deck.

Wrapping her arms around her body, shivering in the wind off the harbor, she stood far enough away to grant some privacy to the muffled murmurs of conversation, but smiled when she heard the sound of Kevin’s laugh after a long while. Finally they emerged up onto the deck together, and Matt convinced his brother to come home.

When they pulled up to the house, Mr. O’Shea was waiting on the front porch. Rory felt a tiny lurch in her stomach, a sympathy pain on their behalf. Growing up, it was always an unspoken rule that you never wanted to make him angry.

“He’s going to kick my ass, isn’t he?” Kevin muttered rather dejectedly.

“Probably,” Matt agreed without missing a beat. “Right after he kicks mine.” He glanced at him. “Ready?”

Kevin shook his head. “Thanks, but I think I should do this alone.”

Rory and Matt lingered at the edge of the front yard at his request. Shoulders hunched, Kevin crossed the shadowed lawn to climb the porch stairs. He hesitated on the top step, facing his father, but immediately dropped his head, shaking with quiet sobs. Mr. O’Shea only reached out to pull him into a hug, his arm slung around his son’s shoulders to guide him into the house.

Rory swiped at her eye with a tremulous smile.

She turned to Matt, who was obviously relieved, but also looked pretty drained from the whole thing.

“It’s late. You must be exhausted, and tomorrow is your big day,” she spoke softly. “I can walk home to my mom’s from here.”

“Don’t,” he said, just as softly, and reached for her hand. “I don’t want you to go.”

They gazed at each other a long moment in the darkened, moonlit yard without saying a word.

“Will your mother be worried if you don’t show up there tonight?” he finally said.

Rory shook her head. “I’m sure she’s been asleep for hours.”

They returned to his truck, and drove back to his apartment. Stepping inside, Rory ran her fingers through her hair. The wind today had whipped it into a tangle, they were swimming in the salty ocean waves, plus she had that sticky, fruity drink spilled on her at the bar.

She grimaced. “I could probably use a shower.”

Matt arched his brow as he tossed his keys on the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t want to say anything—but, yes, you could.”

“Hey!” she laughed.

He inclined his head. “Come on.”

The bathroom was on the first level, but it was unexpectedly large, with both a tub and a separate wide glass-walled shower stall. He grabbed a few folded towels from a shelf, placing them on the edge of the sink counter.

“Here you go. Unfortunately, I think I’m only in possession of some manly bath products—because that’s the kind of manly guy I am—but take what you need. There is a little trick to the faucet here, though.”

He opened the shower door to turn the knob, maneuvering it until a warm, jetting spray filled the tiled stall. Rory glanced in as the steam started to rise, and then glanced at him.

“Thanks,” she said, holding his gaze. She grasped the hem of her tank top, easing it up and over her head, and then turned away slightly, lifting her long hair up off her neck. “Can you help me with this?”

Matt reached for the tie of her bikini string. He easily undid it, and then grazed his fingertips down her back in a circular caress, tracing a path over the curve of her shoulder.

Rory tilted her head to glance back, meeting his eyes again.

Without hesitation, he captured her lips in a soft kiss, still caressing her back, deepening it with that slow burn of passion as his other hand came to rest on her bare stomach.

Breaking away with a soft sigh, she let her top fall to the floor before she slowly shimmied out of her short skirt, taking her bottoms along with it. Arching her long back, she allowed him a full but fleeting glimpse before stepping away into the shower.

His eyes traveled over her naked body with a slow, hungry desire, and then he was tugging his shirt over his head to toss it aside. Rory had spent a better part of the afternoon admiring the view from the deck of his boat, but her eyes drank him in all over again.

She loved the way his smooth muscles moved under his skin, from the bulge of biceps to the broad planes of sculpted shoulders, the two curves of his tight butt cheeks, the long triangular slope of his lean back. He was never the type to bulk up in gym, but rather it was a reflection of his natural athleticism.

He almost had an Olympic swimmer’s body, even if baseball had been his game all those years. Or, maybe a runner with his long lines and lean angles. Perhaps even a rower with his strong arms.

Her heart raced to imagine him in bed, feeling those muscles moving under her hands as he moved over her. What he really excelled at were the indoor sports.