Sweet Alibi (9 page)

Ten

Georgia

SILAS AND I had spent the week organizing the storage area beneath the house and sifting through the junk left in the detached garage. We'd found outdoor furniture to refinish, and supplies from the last remodel to keep. We had donated things still in good shape, and used Gavin’s truck to take discarded items to the dump.

A melodic pattering of rain woke me Thursday morning, muffling the rolling waves. I could smell the dampness in the air. It was overcast and dreary but still just as beautiful as any bright and sunny day. Every morning, I'd woken up and Tristan was already awake and sipping coffee on the porch. This morning I was surprised to find the coffee pot empty. Maybe that was only his ritual on sunny mornings, or perhaps he'd had a late night. He'd been in a corner of the deck talking on his phone when I'd gone to bed. 

I made coffee, picked up the empty bottles from last night, and wiped the counters. I poured myself a cup before heading to the far end of the living room. Pulling the curtain aside, I took in the gray landscape, looking down the beach and seeing a shock of tousled, sandy blond hair out of the corner of my eye. Tristan was awake and sitting on the deck like every other morning, the second story porch sheltering him from the rain.

He was looking off into the distance. I hesitated to bother him, but had grown used to our mornings over coffee, so I opened the door and stepped out. The wood was cool on my bare feet as I made my way to him.

“Hey.” His head turned and a soft smile tugged at his lips. The green of his eyes seemed exceedingly deeper in the overcast light and I couldn't help but smile at the ever-present twinkle. 

“Hey. I made coffee.” I tipped my mug to him as I sat down.

“Thanks. I'm slacking this morning.” He smiled sheepishly.

“I was getting spoiled,” I said. “Want me to get you a cup?” 

“No. It's okay.” He placed a hand on mine to stop me. “I'll get some.”

“Okay.” I settled back into the chair. “Any reason you’re sitting out here in the rain?”

“I like summer rain
―
the smell of it
―
the feel of the damp breeze against your face. It’s soothing, cleansing.”

“Yeah, I like it too,” I agreed, watching him watch the water. His strong jawline and full lips were the first things that caught my eye. High cheekbones and a softly sloped nose defined the contours of his face and gave him a boyish charm. 

“You love the water, huh?” I asked thoughtfully. He only shrugged and ran his fingers along the weathered wood of the deck chair, snapping my mind to when I'd tumbled on the boat and his fingers had ghosted across my skin like the gentle caress of a lover. My breathing grew shallow imagining Tristan's hands running down my body
―
down the dip of my lower back, the hollow of my neck, across my hipbones. 

He turned and searing eyes appraised me. I stared back, captivated by his gaze, lost in those startling eyes. I waited for him to say something to break the spell, anything to shake me out of this trance. But he didn’t. The gentle thudding of rain hitting the sand and rolling waves hitting the shore were the only sounds that infiltrated our bubble.

I pulled my damp hair off my neck and settled it across my right shoulder.

“You’re getting wet.” Tristan lifted a finger and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I licked my lips nervously, my eyes locked with his. His touch set my skin on fire. I held my bottom lip between my teeth painfully, willing myself to feel anything other than my stomach rolling and the arousal throbbing between my thighs. His eyes darted down to watch my mouth as his lips parted lightly with his breath.

“Georgia,” he whispered as he leaned into me. His lips grazed mine and my eyelids fluttered closed.

Why wasn't I pulling away?

God, I needed to be pulling away, like two minutes ago.

I should have moved my chair away from his when I sat down. Being in Tristan's space did things to me, delicious things like the hair rising on the back of my neck and goosebumps dancing across my skin. My stomach flipped, my breathing hitched, and a slow ache settled between my legs.

“Tristan,” I breathed as he brought his hand to my jaw in a light caress, just like he’d been doing a minute ago to the weathered wood of the deck chair. I parted my lips and the air escaped my lungs in a rush.

“I don't know what this is between us, Georgia, but I want to find out,” he said on a breathy exhale.

“Me too,” I whispered and pressed my lips to his. His soft, slightly salty lips tasted heavenly as I ran my tongue along them. He opened his mouth and our tongues brushed together as his hand cupped the back of my neck, fingers threaded in my hair, thumbs brushing my cheeks. He pulled me closer to him and before I knew it I was adrift in the heady sensation of Tristan.

I lost myself for those few blissful moments attached to his lips. I knew there was a reason I shouldn't be doing this, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember what it was. I ran my palm up his arm and over his shoulder to tangle in his hair.

But the hair was too long. It didn't feel right. It was foreign, and yet the pull I felt to continue to kiss and caress was undeniable.

“Kyle.” I pulled away quickly, mumbling the name. I licked my lips where Tristan’s salty-sweet taste lingered. The feelings that were swirling inside my body and filtering through my head were terrifying and new and right all in the same breath. Tristan watched as my thoughts aligned.

“I’m sorry. I don't know what just happened or why I said what I did, but it can't happen again.” I stood and walked back through the French doors and into the house, more confused than I’d ever been.

Eleven

Georgia

“HEY.” TRISTAN STEPPED up behind me.

“Hey.” I was standing on the shore the following afternoon, my sweater-covered arms wrapped around my body and toes buried in the sand while the frayed cotton of my cutoffs tickled my thighs in the brisk breeze.

“Okay?” Tristan stood next to me, eyes on the eastern horizon as the wind howled around us.

“Yeah.”

“Georgia,” he breathed and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Is this about
―
”

“No,” I interrupted before he could continue. The memory of the kiss we’d shared yesterday morning had consumed my thoughts these past twenty-four hours. Shame clouded my mind, along with the overwhelming desire to feel his lips connected to mine again.

“You look so sad out here with the wind whipping around you, like you want to blow away,” he said sadly. I forced a small smile before tears welled in my eyes.

“How do you have the ability to be inside my head?” I whispered as my eyes bore into his.

“I just…thought…” he hesitated, his eyes searching mine. I turned back to the horizon as my head swam with past memories
―
the hurt, the pain, the healing. Always the quest for healing. While Kyle had  been physically present, he hadn’t always been emotionally. In recent years, Silas had been a far better companion. That realization crushed my heart. I had thought Kyle was the only person I would ever need
―
the only person that was ever good for me, but a few mornings over coffee, a kiss, and a truckload of physical chemistry had me rethinking everything I thought I knew.

“What's this?” Tristan slid his hand down my arm and took the book I was clutching to my chest.

“I came down here to read,” I answered, thankful for the distraction. He turned the book over and read the cover.

His lips parted before his eyes met mine. “Tristan and Isolde?”

“It's been a long time since I’ve read it. I found it in town yesterday. I'm thinking it must be a pretty special story if your mom…” I paused, hoping I wasn’t drudging up a painful memory.

I watched his throat contract as he swallowed. “Do you want to read it together?” he asked tentatively.

“You want to read it together?” My eyebrows shot up.

“Sure. It's been a long time since I’ve read it. My mom used to read it to me when I was a kid, like a bedtime story,” he said, his finger sliding across the loving couple on the cover. I watched him, lost in his own memories.

“Sure.” I took the book back and sat in the cool sand, my toes just out of reach of the waves.

I began to read.

“
Triste
means sad in French. Your name means sadness.” I looked over at him after reading just the first few lines.

“Yeah.” Emotion swam in his eyes and a frown crossed his beautiful features. Whatever he was thinking, I wanted to take it away, to hold him as long as needed until the pain melted from his body. Suddenly I wondered if he had the ability to take my pain away too. My heart skipped a few beats in my chest before I continued to read.

As I read, the fictional Tristan's childhood was revealed. He’d lost his parents at a young age, and was fiercely loyal to the uncle who had raised him, his sense of duty and honor unparalleled. He had first met Isolde after a battle
―
she’d come upon him in a ditch and nursed him back to health. He was to bring her back to marry his uncle, but on the journey they’d mistakenly drunk a love potion together
―
sealing their fates to each other forever.

“Do you think the potion was really a potion or just an excuse?” I asked aloud.

“An excuse?” he laughed.

“Because they fell in love even though he’s supposed to be taking her to marry his uncle.”

“Right.” He pursed his lips in thought.

“Think about it
―
if a love potion caused them to fall in love, it’s not their fault. It leaves them without guilt; they can’t be held responsible for their actions.” 

“Rather pessimistic of you.” Tristan bumped my shoulder with his.

“It's just convenient that they can love free of guilt. They can be selfish, betray his uncle, and tear apart a kingdom.”

“But shouldn't you always follow your heart?” Tristan raised an eyebrow.

“At the detriment of others? I don't know.” I frowned.

“So you’re of the opinion that one should sacrifice true love for the sake of others? How selfless of you.” Tristan rolled his eyes.

“You advocate lovin’ all over town without care for who gets hurt?” I shot him a disbelieving look.

“Hey, we’re not talkin’ about lovin’ all over town.” He laughed. “We’re talking about true love,” he said with a shrug. “I don't know the answer. Just something to think about.”

My heart slammed against my rib cage when he said the words
true love
. Tristan was a romantic.

“We should go in.” I closed the book and stood quickly. “I’ve got dinner planned and I imagine Gavin gets growly without food.”

“Does he ever.” Tristan grinned and butterflies danced in my stomach as we headed to the house.

Forgotten was the sadness that had consumed me as I stood on the beach earlier.

Twelve

Georgia

“WHO'S UP FOR a night out?” Drew threw out as she bounced into the kitchen the next afternoon. I'd been cleaning the house from top to bottom. I'd scrubbed the bathrooms to gleaming before telling Drew that she and Gavin were on their own from here on out because I was not interested in coming into contact with any of their…fluids this summer.

“I'm so tired.” I slid down the wall to sit on the floor. My head tilted back and my eyes closed; I was ready to sleep for a decade. I wasn’t exhausted just from cleaning; my mind was still reeling from the kiss two days ago
―
Tristan’s lips on mine, his taste, his clean ocean scent, his sexy rumpled hair. I couldn’t keep my mind off him and I hated it. I tried avoiding him, or at least kept busy when he was around so I didn’t dwell on every move he made. 

“You promised you'd go next time, and it's next time. We’re going. Everyone in this house is going!” Drew yelled the last part to make sure she was heard.

“Going where?” Tristan stepped through the front door.

“Out
―
a bar, a club, I don't care where as long as there is alcohol and dancing. Where have you been?” She arched an eyebrow at him.

“I was cleaning the boat.” He gestured to the bucket of cleaning supplies he held.

“Oh. So are you in?” she asked.

“Always up for a good time,” he said before his eyes flashed to mine.

“Great! I'll go wrangle Silas.” She bounced out of the room.

“Hey.” He set the bucket by the front door and stepped toward me.

“Hey.”

“Look, about the other morning
―
”

“It's okay.” I avoided his gaze as I stood up from the floor.

“Georgia
―
” He placed a warm hand on my arm.

“Really, Tristan. It’s okay. It just can’t happen again. I’m with someone.” I pulled my arm away. He stood silently before his lips parted then closed again. His eyes shifted to the bright blue sky out the window and I wondered what he’d been about to say.

His eyes clouded over for a moment before he turned back to me. “Okay.” He turned and strolled out of the room. I kicked myself for ruining something that had been so easy and simple between us. We could have been friends this summer if I hadn’t been so hopelessly drawn to those perfectly full lips and deep green eyes.