Wet (The Water's Edge #1) (7 page)

I slipped on a pair of cutoffs that hugged my butt like a second skin and threw on a white skinny tank and a sheer pink top over it. “There, was that so hard?” I asked her. She made a face at me and left the room again to finish getting dressed. Bending over at the waist, I unwrapped my towel and rubbed some of the water out of my wet hair. I scrunched some fancy brand name sea spray product I’d found on clearance into it and went back to the bathroom to at least partially blow dry it.

I was finishing with my makeup when Rue appeared again, fully dressed and carrying two glasses of her famous rum-spiked basil lemonade. A slouchy black top and black espadrilles tied around her ankles completed her outfit. She looked stunning, as always. Rue was delicate and petite with pale skin and miles of curves, and nothing ever looked bad on her. I’d hate her if she wasn’t my best friend. We sat on the couch and sipped our drinks, pre-gaming.

“So why haven’t we been to the Wreck yet?” I asked, crunching an ice cube.

“The ratio is off. It’s more like two-thirds locals, one-third transients. The other two bars are the opposite. Plus, I like to dress up, and you don’t really dress up to go to the Wreck.”

“Do you even own a pair of cutoffs?” I asked, amused.

She scrunched up her nose as she thought about it. “Yeah, I think. They’re designer, though.”

“Of course,” I mocked.

“Oh, shush. I like nice things. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

I took a long drink and didn’t answer her. There really wasn’t anything wrong with it, and she could afford it all without even blinking. Plus, I was often the recipient of her generosity and had access to her legendary shoe collection, so who was I to talk? We finished our drinks while she bounced some ideas off me for the popcorn company. It was kind of hard to make popcorn sound exciting, though, so I wasn’t much help.

I let Rue pick out a pair of braided leather sandals for me to wear, since she wrinkled her nose at the old rubber flip flops I had planned on wearing, and then we left. Rue had the top down on her Mercedes convertible, the weather was perfect, plus I had no idea where we were going, so she drove. I used the hair tie I always had around my wrist to tie my hair back until we got there, so it wouldn’t morph into a giant rat’s nest. Rue’s hair still looked perfect, of course. As I finger combed my own slightly damp strands, I convinced myself I was rocking the sexy, tousled look. It could be true.

As we got out of the car, I saw the Wreck for the first time. Rue had mentioned it’d originally been called The Shipwreck, but the Ship portion of the sign had fallen off and was leaning against the building. The clapboard wooden structure looked like it had seen better days, and the metal roof was rusted in spots. Cars filled the parking lot, though, and loud music was drifting out the open door.

When we got inside, I could see why Theo described the place as laid back. The tables were simple wooden picnic tables, and the scarred plank floor was littered with peanut shells. Red Coleman coolers full of unshelled peanuts sat on a bench next to plastic kids’ sand pails and shovels for customers to help themselves. The walls were made from reclaimed boards of different colors and sizes, but it was hard to tell from all the graffiti. Scribbles covered the walls and tables in a colorful tangle.

I spotted Theo across the room watching a game of pool and waved. He laughed and shook his head at one of the guys from the boardwalk the other day — Dylan, maybe? — and then headed toward us.

“You made it,” he said, giving me a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.

Rue and Theo greeted each other and caught up on the local gossip while I finished looking around. The bar was off to the side, and bits of paper fluttered above it. In the back there were a handful of pool tables, as well as an old foosball table and a new-looking air hockey game. A dance floor was to our left, and through a pair of open doors a deck overlooked the marsh behind it, lit by strings of light. This was more my kind of place than Anchor. It felt comfortable. Easy.

I leaned into Rue, bumping her hip. “I’m going to the bar. You want a shot or a mojito?” I knew I wanted a margarita.

Theo shook his head at us. “You have to try the grog.”

Rue half-groaned, half-laughed. “I’d forgotten about that. He’s right. We have to get the grog.”

I furrowed my brow. “Okaaay. I’ll go get us some… grog.”

Theo squeezed my side. “Just tell them you want a pitcher and to put it on Grady’s tab. He’s buying tonight.”

I felt Rue stiffen next to me. “Grady’s here?” She whipped her head around, looking for him, and ran her fingers through her hair. It was what she did when she was nervous.

“Yeah. Tonight’s all on him. Drinks here first, then we’re all headed back over to his place later for an after party. You remember how to get there, right, Rue?”

“Yeah,” she clipped out. “I remember.”

I gave her a quizzical look. I’d have to remember to ask her about Grady later. She was acting weird.

Theo pointed out which table he’d claimed, and I headed to the bar. As I got closer, I realized the fluttery paper things hanging above the bar were actually dollar bills thumbtacked to the beams above it. Dollar bills with graffiti. I was still trying to figure out what the writing on the bills was when I reached the bar, my head twisted up and to the side to stare at one dollar in particular. Block letters spelled out,
Are you a lieutenant? Because you just made my private stand at attention
. What? The one next to it asked in bold Sharpie,
Do you work at Subway? Because you just gave me a footlong
.

“They’re pick-up lines.”

I jerked my head down at the sound of the deep voice. It almost looked like the voice belonged to West. Good Lord, was I so sexually deprived that now I was conjuring him up as the bartender? I blinked. It was him. “What?” I asked, smoothing a wisp of hair from my face.

“The dollar bills. They’re pick-up lines. If a line works for a guy, he pins it up. Sort of as a favor to his fellow man.”

“Are any of your lines up there?” I asked without thinking, glancing up again like I’d be able to spot one.

He spread his arms wide, gripping the edge of the bar from the service side, and grinned, his eyes crinkling in the corners. He had several braided rope bracelets on his right wrist. They looked worn, the colors more muted than vibrant, like he never took them off. “Nope. Want to know why not?” His shoulders stretched the material of his t-shirt, and my eye was drawn upward to his tattoo peeking below the sleeve.

“Why not?” I parroted, distracted.

He crooked his finger at me and bent down like he was going to tell me a secret. I leaned over the bar halfway to meet him. Cupping his hand around my ear, his fingers brushed my hair, and he whispered, “I don’t need a line.”

Amused, I drew back and quirked an eyebrow, ignoring the way my scalp tingled where his fingers had just been. I made a big show of studying him, my eyes lingering on his chest and shoulders. “Because you’re just that good, right?”

“Maybe. I mean, you followed me here, didn’t you?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I followed
Theo
here. Guess you’ll have to settle for second place.” He scowled. His obvious jealousy made me feel desirable, powerful. I couldn’t help wanting to needle him further. “There is something I need from you, though.” I licked my lips, leaning forward again. I made my voice low, sultry. “Something only you can give me.” His smile grew beneath half-closed eyes, and he crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps flexing. “I need a pitcher of grog. And put it on Grady’s tab,” I finished, keeping my tone even.

His smile faltered for a moment before the arrogant smirk slipped back in place. Turning his back to me without a word, he began scooping fruit from a cooler. I couldn’t help my eyes from tracing the line from his broad shoulders, down his tapering back, and over the curve of his ass. He was a prime example of what a man should look like, and he knew it too, damn him. The play of his muscles as he added ice and topped it with something red from the bar gun made me bite my lip with appreciation and yearn to reach out for him and stroke the length of his spine to see how he would react to my touch. He finished and turned back, breaking me out of my daze, and presented me with a full plastic pitcher of what looked like Kool-Aid with fruit salad floating in it.

I wrinkled my nose. “What is it?”

“Punch with Everclear-soaked fruit.”

My eyebrows rose.

“Be careful. It packs more of a wallop than you’d expect.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, but thanks anyway.”

I grabbed the pitcher and wove through the full bar to the table Theo had pointed out, being careful not to spill any of the bright red drink on myself. When I got back to the table, Kendra had arrived too, looking adorable in an ikat sundress.

Theo took the pitcher from me and poured us all drinks into the red plastic cups that were stacked on the tables. Rue took a big swallow and headed out to the deck, muttering something about needing some air. Minutes later, Kendra spotted a friend across the room and went off to say hi, promising to come back in a bit. Feeling abandoned, Theo and I stood shoulder-to-shoulder, and he filled me in on the local gossip, pointing out who was together, who hated who, and who to avoid at all costs.

“What about him?” I pointed at a guy with buzzed hair who was staring at Rue intently as he nursed a longneck beer.

Theo shot me a confused look. “That’s Grady. You haven’t met him yet?”

I lifted a shoulder. “Not officially, no. Rue got me the job, and I did the rest through the HR girl.”

“Ah. I’ll introduce you later.”

“That’d be good, since I did charge my drink to his tab.”

We people-watched for awhile, and I tried to pick out a girl for Theo to hit on, but everyone I picked he found something wrong with. He was like the male version of Rue. One girl laughed like a hyena, he said, a pretty redhead had ignored him in high school because he wasn’t cool enough, and the last one I motioned to before I gave up apparently had dog breath.

“Fine,” I huffed. “What about for me? Whose attention should I try to catch?”

“For short term or long term?”

“Short.”

Theo nodded toward the foosball table. “Boone, the blond standing over there. He always manages to stay friends with his flings, so he must be doing something right.”

I checked Boone out. He had a lanky frame, great looking lips, and messy hair that looked like it was styled by running his hands through it once or twice before giving up. Not a bad choice, not a bad choice at all. Theo nudged my side with his elbow. “He’ll be at Grady’s later too.” I nodded, but couldn’t help myself from looking over at West. He was flirting with a brunette whose boobs were barely contained by her top. Such a typical guy. A little flash of flesh, and they were goners. I tried to ignore the stab of disappointment that he was so susceptible.

Theo laughed. “C’mon.” He flung an arm around my shoulder and directed me toward the nearest pool table. “We’re up next.”

We watched Trevor and Dylan finish up their game. Trevor sank the eight ball, and Dylan claimed Trevor cheated the whole time. “Fuck that, dude, I won. Next round’s on you,” Trevor told him as they handed off their cue sticks and headed to the bar for shots, with Dylan continuing to give him shit as they walked away.

I knew the rules of pool, but I sucked. Theo took it easy on me and tried to give me pointers, but I was pretty much a lost cause. If I couldn’t find an easy ball to pocket, I tried to knock Theo’s balls out of position. Then I resorted to flat out trying to mess him up, bumping into his hip and knocking my cue against his as he positioned his shot. He joined in the corruption, tipping my elbow at the last second and bending close to blow in my ear. We were being goofy, and I was on my second cup of grog and feeling a little warm.

I tripped over my own feet and fell against the pool table, giggling when my elbow sent two balls rolling down the felt. Hearing Theo’s hoot of laughter behind me, I twisted and looked over my shoulder, and my eyes drifted past him to the bar again. This time, West was filling a glass with draft and looking in my direction. Was he checking out my ass as I bent over the pool table? His heated gaze traveled down my legs, then back up. I suppressed the urge to give a little wiggle. His eyes trapped mine, and I couldn’t look away. The crowd around us faded until all I could see was him.

A primal awareness of him settled deep within me and unfurled, sending tendrils of heat to lick at my core. His eyes darkened, turning more gray than blue, as if he knew what he was doing to me. Suddenly, he jerked his hand and mouthed a curse, looking down to see the beer overflowing and breaking the spell between us.

I pushed myself upright and tried to slow my pulse. Theo was talking behind me, and I forced myself to concentrate on his words. “Sadie, meet Boone. Boone, this is Sadie. She lifeguards over at the Edge with me.”

“Nice,” Boone drew out the word, making it seem twice as long. He raised his eyes from my rear to my eyes, making me wonder what exactly he was referring to. “You gonna be at Grady’s later?”

“Yeah.” His obvious interest flooded my cheeks with heat.

“Awesome.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and looked around, as if trying to think of a way to prolong the conversation. “Wanna play foosball? I’ve got the table next.”

I wrinkled my nose and tilted my head side to side. “I’m more of an air hockey kind of girl.”

“I can work with that. I can definitely work with that.” He nodded. “I’ll be back for you in a few minutes.” He headed toward the air hockey table to make the arrangements.

Theo held up his first, and I bumped it. “Aw, yeah!” he whooped, proud of his wingman skills. I rolled my eyes at him and tried to stifle my mouth from kicking up at the corner. It probably wasn’t a good idea to encourage him.

Boone came back for me shortly after, and we decided on best two out of three. Theo came with me to cheer me on, and though I lost the first round pretty spectacularly, I squeaked out a narrow victory in game two. Kendra wandered back over for moral support when she saw what was happening. We were tied in game three and kept trading points back and forth, neither of us getting a lead on the other. Boone and I were flirting and talking shit to each other, Theo was making fun of me, and I could hardly stop laughing. We were posturing like it was life or death who won, and a small crowd had gathered around to watch. Wyatt moved in next to Boone and was trying to coach him, pointing out my weak spots. “The edges, man. She’s not guarding the edges.”