Riptides (Lengths) (3 page)

Her eyes are red-rimmed and her shoulders are folded forward, like broken bird’s wings. “Jess? Are you okay?” I ask.

She shakes her head, slowly at first, then faster. “No. No, no, no, I’m not okay at all.”

I hold my arms out, and she looks at them like I just answered every question she was ever going to ask. “Enzo, why now?” she whispers, still looking at my arms.

I don’t know what she means. But I know what I want to say to her.

“Because you need me now, Jess. For some crazy reason the universe sent us to each other now, right now. And I’m here for you. I want to be here for you.”

She puts her trembling hands under her hair and covers her ears, shaking her head again. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear this. I can’t listen to this.”

“Why?” I ask. This girl is a beautiful, sad puzzle, and I’m hell bent on figuring her out. Hopefully solving her. “What’s stopping you from letting me be here for you?”

“It’s so fucked up, Enzo.” She drops her hands to her sides and licks her cracked lips. “I made some huge mistakes, and they got out of control, and now I’m in the middle of the biggest mess of my life. I don’t want to drag you in. And these last few weeks have been amazing. They have. But things are getting serious, and I can’t. I just can’t do that. Be that.”

I take a few steps her way, and she doesn’t startle in the other direction. “You want to talk about huge mistakes? Regrets? I want you to imagine pushing me away. Pushing me out of your life. Then I want you to tell me that in six months, a year, five years, you won’t wake up and regret that you never even tried. I’m not asking for anything you can’t promise, babe. I’m asking for you to come here and let me comfort you.”

I mean that.

I mean it with every shred of my soul.

She flies into my arms, and I’m happy just to hold her there, just to feel her body against mine. When she wraps her arms around my waist, I memorize the feel of her petite body. When she moves her hands up my spine, I hold still. I keep holding as she brushes her hands over the back of my neck, over my ears, along my jaw. I hold still when her lips brush mine.

“Jess?” I double check, because I want this, but only if she does.

“I’ve spent years feeling like no one truly cared about me, the real me. Not even the person——the
people
——who should have cared the most. I felt so lost until I met you, Enzo. What if this doesn’t last?” Her lips move over mine while she talks, and I have a hard time remembering to swallow.

“Why wouldn’t it?” I ask her, my voice reined in because I’m trying as hard as I can to keep everything controlled.

“Because it can’t.” She balls her fists into my shirt. “It just can’t. Is that okay? If this is just for now?”

I nod. What the hell else can I do? The truth is, even if she can’t give me a reason, even if I never wind up knowing why, I can’t say ‘no’ to her when she’s in my arms.

And I don’t want to.

She kisses me hard, and when I open my mouth, her tongue slides in and her hands run up along the front of my shirt. I want to move
slowly, but the way her tongue slides over mine, I can tell that’s not what she has in mind at all. I lift her onto the counter, drag the apron over her head, and fumble with the ties that turn to knots as I yank.

She giggles. “Let me,” she says, reaching back to undo the knots.

I watch as she pulls the apron away and throws it to the side. I flick the buttons on her sensible white shirt, eager to understand how something so starched and bleached can make my mouth water like no lingerie ever has before. I peel back each side so her tits, covered in a silky pink bra, are exposed. I drag the back of my fingers along the exposed skin, watching the little trail of goose bumps rise up.

“You’ve got tight abs for a baker,” I tell her, flattening my hands on her perfect stomach.

“I don’t eat sugar all day. I cook with it.” She laughs and lifts the hem of my shirt. “You’ve got a six pack. How does a beach bum get a six pack?”

“Beach bum?” I tug her close by the sides of her shirt and bury my face in her cleavage. “I am employed. Always employed.”

“Really? How is it that you’re always showing up at my place of work randomly? And how are you able to go dancing or go to dinner at ten at night?” She runs her hands up and down my ribs then pulls my t-shirt over my head.

“I happen to have a very flexible schedule.” I suck my breath through my teeth as she runs her lips over my pecs. “I work hard the hours I work. And I surf anytime I’m not with you. So that’s how I have the money to take you out and the body to make you drool.”

She leans her forehead to my chest and shakes with laughter. “I’m not drooling.”

I tip her chin up with my finger and move her face side to side. “I don’t know. You look kind of drooly to me.”

“I do?” She bites my finger gently and sucks, her eyes glinting when the cocky-as-hell smile melts off my face. She sucks harder, then lets her lips pop off. She rubs a thumb along the side of my lip. “Hmm. Is that drool, Rodriguez?”

I pull her into my arms and, now that we’re done talking, we keep ourselves busy with other things. Like stripping each other naked.

“What if I get another customer?” Jess asks, her breath skipping and her words stuttering. “What if someone comes to the door?”

“Want me to lock up?” I offer.

“You’re naked, Enzo,” she giggles, gazing down at my body appreciatively. I’m glad I’ve been able to work less and surf more lately, even if she did call me a bum for it. “The entire front of the store is plate glass.”

“I have zero body issues.” I hold my arms out at my sides. “Give me the keys.”

She chews on that lower lip. “I don’t think anyone is coming. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ah. You’re afraid other ladies might get a glimpse? Storm the place?” I nod. “Want to keep me trapped back here in your…love bakery?”

Her laugh rings out. “You’re ridiculous. But, since you’re in my bakery, I should probably do a little work on you.”

“A little work?” I watch her saunter to the fridge and rifle around. She takes out a stainless steel can of whipped cream and shakes it slowly as she walks back to me. “Please, please God, tell me you’re prepared to do a lot of work. A lot.”

“You need it.” She tilts her head back, points the red dispenser tip into her mouth, and fills it with fluffy cream. I’m positive I’m drooling by now. She holds it out and gestures for me to open my mouth.

Funny how something I did a million times as a kid can morph into the goddamn sexiest thing imaginable in the right situation. I close my eyes and do what she says, and she doesn’t stop with my mouth. She presses me back until I’m sitting on one of her low stools and decorates me like a cake.

“You’re onto something.” I look down. “I think guys would pay good money to come in and have hot bakers make whipped cream flowers all over their naked bodies.”

“You think I should expand my business?” she asks, adding whipped cream vines and leaves to each shoulder. She edges my pecs and ribs in branches and petals.

“I’ll have to spend a lot of time beating the shit out of guys in front of your place,” I tell her, watching as she adds a few last dollops to my thighs and then focuses on…

“It’s art, Enzo.” Her voice hits my ears, but I have a hard time making sense of her words. Because it’s hard to focus on anything other than trying to keep my raging hardon under control. She steps back and surveys me with a smile. “I need to get my camera.”

“No,” I laugh, ready to destroy her creation if she’s honestly thinking of filming this. “This is a gorgeous thing you get to enjoy in the privacy of your brain. No evidence of this needs to exist outside this bakery and your memory.”

“Fine.” She sighs. “You are a work of art, Enzo. I feel kind of like Michelangelo must have after he finished the
David
. Seriously, maybe this is a viable way for me to make some cash on the side. I could find a bunch of hot young art students who’d want to model my creations. Imagine how much money I could make if I made a calendar for the bakery.”

She sounds so excited, I get a little nervous.

“C’mere.” I crook my finger and she leans in. “I have no problem with the, uh,
art
of this whole experiment. My worry is what’s going to happen when it comes time for cleanup.”

“Cleanup?” she repeats, her voice low and husky.

“Yeah. How will you——ahhh.” I grip the edge of the stool as Jess’s soft tongue licks the first dollop of cream off my shoulder. “I thought you didn’t like sweets,” I gasp.

“I guess my tastes are changing,” she whispers, licking at my pecs with hungry little laps.

I want to touch her. Pull her on top of me. Roll her around on this flour-dusted floor.

But she’s doing so well on her own, I figure it would be stupid to get in her way.

By the time she’s down to my thighs, I’m so turned on my eyes are crossing.

“Damnit, Jess. You drive me fucking crazy.” But my words come out a few seconds too soon. Because then her lips close over my dick and I know for sure what crazy is.

Crazy is having this gorgeous, perfect woman doing unspeakably hot things to me in the back of her bakery.

Crazy is not knowing if we might get caught, and not giving a single damn.

Crazy is never wanting this to end. Never wanting to be done with her.

FIVE

As usual, Mom planned a pre-wedding dinner that’s insanely huge and about to get out of hand. Just the way I like it.

“
Mami
!” I call as I come in the garage door…and the whole scene is weird. Since when do I come home calling for my mother? Since when do I choose the kitchen full of my sisters and mom and my sisters-in-law and other female friends rather than the perfect quiet of our backyard and the freezing promise of a nice beer buzz.

My mother sticks her head out of the kitchen and wags her finger my way. “No!” she screeches. “No, don’t even think about it, don’t even ask about it, no!”

“Wha——?” I ask, but Deo’s little sister, Hattie, pulls me to the side.

“I hate to be all sexist on you, but could you please go relax with a cold beer and thump your chest with the guys out back? Your mother is losing her mind. Slowly but surely.” Hattie smiles, a killer, knock-out sexy version of her brother’s stupid grin.

“What the hell? Mami’s planned a million parties like this.” I try to peek around the corner, but the entire kitchen has turned into an assembly line. A gorgeous assembly line populated by hot, crazy women.

“We’re not all here just for tonight. We’re helping your mom get things ready for Cohen and Maren’s
wedding
, E. It’s a big deal.” She pushes me out of the way. Hattie may be small, but she’s fierce. Like one of those little yippy Chihuahuas. 

Just because I’m in a good mood, just because I love to mess with Hattie, I stall, grabbing onto the doorway and laughing. “C’mon, she’s got this in the bag. Gen just got married, and it all went fine.”

“Adam got a great deal because he used to work for the caterers. I thought you were there.” She narrows those baby blues at me, and I think about what a lucky guy Ryan is for snagging her. You’d think after he lost a rad girl like Whit to my brother’s dopey best friend, that would have been it for him. All his good luck with women tokens tossed down the drain. But he got a second chance.

A miracle.

I know for a fact I’ll never be that lucky, which is why I’ll do whatever it takes to hold onto Jess. Hell, it finally dawns on me why I’m dancing around outside my mother’s kitchen. For the first time in my very long, extremely varied history with all kinds of hot, attractive women, I actually want to tell my family about the person I’m with. I kind of wish Jess was in there right now, helping my mother chop carrots and onions for her mushroom barley soup. Damn, I love the way that girl looks when she’s focused on cooking. I also love how she looks when she winds herself around me and closes her eyes, letting go and letting me drive into her deep and hard.

“I was there.” I think back to that night and the pretty, silly girl with the great legs…who wound up being a stripper. “I was there in spirit,” I amend. “You weren’t there at all. How do you know all the deep Rodriguez family secrets?”

She smiles and holds up a clipboard.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I laugh outright. This girl is such a trip…and basically the polar opposite of her laid-back brother. Not that that’s so shocking. I know better than most people how bizarre genetics can be, especially when it comes to siblings. “So you have a clipboard now?”

She tosses her long, dark hair. “That’s right. And she who holds the clipboard has the right to kick out guys who would probably just eat all the appetizers and get in the way.”

“Is she making those tiny bagels with guacamole?” I ask, my mouth watering.

Hattie cocks an eyebrow. “That’s classified information, Mr. Rodriguez. I’ll kindly ask you to step outside before I have to call security.”

I flick at her clipboard. “I think you’re abusing your power, Ms. Beckett. Plus, if you hope your goony boyfriend is going to kick my ass now that the Coast Guard made a man out of him, think again. I heard him and your brother out back screaming over a pretty fierce
bocce ball
match. He’ll never hear your whistle.”

Hattie’s smile makes her whole face glow. “You heard Ryan and Deo playing bocce ball?”

“Well, technically screaming about who was closest to the
pallino
——” I cut myself off because I have no interest in pissing on Hattie’s hopes for the two guys she loves most in her life to become pals.

Much as Deo loves Hattie, the fact that her current boyfriend used to date his wife, Whit, still rubs him the wrong way. Not that I blame him. If I had a wife as hot as Whit, I’d be damned if I’d let any ex near her, no matter how reformed he was.

I decide the best tactic is just to change the subject. “C’mon, there’s gotta be something on that little clipboard you haven’t had a chance to put a check by? I’ve got insane connections. You slip me a few mini bagels, and I’ll make things happen for you, Hattie.”

She gnaws on her bottom lip, then drags me to the corner and hisses, “The cake.”

“What?” Shit. I was really hoping she’d ask about a DJ or a live band. I have so many friends who’d work the entertainment for a case of beer, it isn’t even funny.

“The woman who was supposed to do their cake moved to Colorado two weeks ago with her new husband. She cancelled the order, but Maren and Cohen haven’t had any luck getting anyone else to fill it.” She grips her clipboard in her hands, her knuckles white, her eyes so serious, it’s like she’s inviting me on a quest to bring the One Ring to Mount Doom.

Or whatever. Not like I read
Lord of the Rings
eight times as a kid.

“So you need a cake?” I roll my eyes. “I thought you were going to hit me with something impossible. Worry no more. I will bring you a perfect cake. And I’ll take a bagel now.”

“Enzo.” She keeps those earnest blue eyes pinned on me. “It can’t be some sheet cake from the grocery store. This is a wedding.”

“Ah. Okay. So we need to be classy. Maybe a nice ice cream cake? Oh, man, you know what Cohen loved when he was a kid? That Fudgie the Whale cake from Carvel.” I raise my eyebrows at her, but the girl is stone cold. “Nothing? Not even a tiny smile?”

“Honestly, I’m trying to tell if you’re kidding,” Hattie says. She grabs my neckline and pulls me down to her level. “Listen, this isn’t a joke, Enzo. We have no time to play around. Your mother is trusting me to help her. Can you do this?”

“You want a cake with tiers?” I ask. She nods sharply. “With that frosting that’s all hard and you can roll it out?”

“Fondant,” she corrects in her Little Miss Know It All voice. Cute as hell, how serious she is with her boss clipboard.

“Right. Fondant. Maybe with some gold ferns painted on it with that edible paint? Maybe some of those sugar flowers?” I stand up and cross my arms when Hattie lets go of my shirt and sinks against the wall.

“Yes! It’s like you read my mind!” She clicks her pen and it hovers over her clipboard page, ready to make that check. “You can get a cake like that? Like the one you described?”

I think about the cake I saw in Jess’s bakery. “Yeah. I sure can. Let me handle payment, too.”

It won’t be a case of beer, but I have a feeling Jess will be cool with me bartering for that dessert. I’m excited to let her name the price.

Hattie squeezes me in a tight hug. “You are a lifesaver, Enzo! Thank you so much!”

“No worries.” And then it occurs to me that I should keep my mouth shut about Jess until the wedding.

That I should bring her in on my arm, me wearing my tux, Jess in some fancy dress. Everyone will be oohing and ahing over her amazing cake, and then I’ll introduce her and brag about how amazing her baking is. Mom will get all excited, secretly planning the next Rodriguez wedding. Dad and Jess will talk politics, and they won’t agree, but he’ll be charmed. Adam, Cohen, Deo, even Ryan——they’ll slap me on the back before they tell Jess to run away and that she can do way better. Lydia and Hattie will like her brains and the rest of the girls will respect that she’s a woman with opinions and skills. Not some bumbling airhead, not some sex-on-a-stick hottie with zero class and nothing interesting to say. I’ll have to cut in when Grandpa Beckett steals a dance and whirls her around the room like he’s Fred Astaire, putting all us young guys to shame.

Then I’ll cut in and, even though I don’t have Grandpa’s ballroom moves, I’ve got some Latin sexiness that can’t be denied. I’ll dance her off her feet. I wonder if she knows how to tango. I wonder if she’ll come to our big, insane Sunday dinner. 

This is for real. Finally, when I wasn’t even looking for it, the girl of my dreams fell into my lap. And I can’t wait to show her off. 

I jog outside, whistling to myself, crack open an ice cold
Dos Equis
, and stand shoulder to shoulder with my nervous brother. “Cohen, relax, man. The ladies have it all tied up. This wedding is going to be fine.”

“They let you in the kitchen?” he demands, his eyes slitted like he’s about to jump me. “They told me I wasn’t allowed.”

I take a long pull of my beer before I answer. “Probably because they know what an anal-retentive douche you are. Mom’s already got Hattie with her little clipboard making sure it’s all ship-shape.”

“A wedding needs to be planned,” Cohen says through gritted teeth. “And Maren’s been so cool about everything. I watched those bride shows with Genie and Cece, and Maren isn’t like any of those crazy girls demanding shit and throwing fits. I’m glad, you know? Of course, I’m glad she has her priorities straight. But Maren is really good at putting herself last.”

I clap his shoulder and nod. “Yeah, I hear that. Maren’s so good to everybody else, it’s like she forgets to be good to herself. But, trust me, if anyone has this in the bag, it’s Hattie. She’s like——”

My thought gets interrupted by a red ball hefted my way. Deo has his arms in the air and is screaming, “You’re high! You’re freaking high, and if you think you’re closer to the
pallino
, you need your goddamn eyes adjusted!”

Ryan, Hattie’s boyfriend, stands with his arms crossed over his massive chest, a calm smile on his face. I know for sure it’s that smile that drives Deo off the fucking deep end.

“You gonna smirk at me? Let’s settle this on the ground like
men
. You think you got this?” Deo drops to the ground and starts doing pushups.

“This is crazy, Deo,” Ryan says. “C’mon, man. You win, okay?”

“Don’t…give me…your pity…bullshit…asshole,” Deo huffs as he presses his arms up and down. “You…can’t…handle…this.”

Ryan rolls his eyes, but drops to the ground, and Cohen and I stare. “Hattie is like the complete opposite of Deo. Are we sure they’re related?” I ask.

Cohen grabs another cold beer and laughs. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe. But genetics are weird as hell. Look at me and you. I got my shit together, have a stable job, I’m marrying a great girl. You’re a freeloading asshole.”

I cock an eyebrow his way. “Yeah? You wait, man. I got shit up my sleeve. Prepare for a total Enzo one-eighty.”

“What the hell are these two assholes doing now?” Grandpa asks as he comes out of the house with a plate full of appetizers.

I smile at the old man. “Bocce ball argument. Deo proposed they settle it by doing push-ups.”

“What the hell?” Cohen cries, throwing his hands up and gesturing to Grandpa’s full plate of delicious-smelling food. “I thought we weren’t allowed in the kitchen.”

Grandpa stuffs an
empanada de calabasa
into his mouth and throws us a wicked grin. “
You
may not be. But my gorgeous granddaughter snuck me a plate.” He plops in a lawn chair and fishes a beer out of the ice. “You two are going to die of heatstroke!” he yells at Deo and Ryan, both red-faced and dripping with sweat. “This is like watching the Darwin Awards in progress.” He lifts his plate and sighs. “At least I have sustenance. It’s not easy watching your only grandson prove what a half-wit he is on an empty stomach.”

A car door slams in the driveway, and Adam comes out of the house a few minutes later. By now, we’re all staring at Deo and Ryan. It’s clear they both want to quit. It’s also clear neither one is willing to be the first.

“What’s going on?” Adam asks, chewing on a piece of jalapeno cornbread.

“Are you shitting me?” Cohen fumes. “How the hell did you get that?”

Adam shrugs. “Gen said she wasn’t sure if she used enough scallions. She needed a second opinion.” He chews thoughtfully and moans a little around the food in his mouth. “Yeah. This is delicious. Definitely enough scallions.”

“Bullshit,” Cohen mutters.

“Those two had a bocce ball disagreement, and they’ve resorted to a push-up contest to figure out who’s the winner,” I explain to Adam over Cohen’s long, pissed, very creative rampage of swears.

“We could just measure. I have a really precise measuring tape in the car,” Adam offers like the logical thinker he always is.

“Let it go.” Grandpa snickers. “Once they’re done with their little pissing contest, they won’t have the strength to bicker through dinner tonight, and we can all relax for once. Let an old man enjoy the small pleasures in life. Like two knuckleheads trying to out-asshole each other.”

We all watch as the guys push up, slower each time, their fingers digging hard in the dirt, their shirts stuck to their backs. Sweat drips off their faces and plasters the hair flat to their heads. Deo looks a solid shade of beet red, and Ryan has his lips curled back and his teeth smashed together like he’s trying not to puke.