Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs, #5)(68)

“Okay, faster,” I said as though I hadn’t just slid down his body like a stripper pole.

“Faster.” He nodded.

I returned to the starting place and hurled myself at him again.

The results were the same. “This isn’t working,” I called down from my vantage point above his head.

“This looks familiar,” he said to my navel.

“Let’s try going a little deeper. I’ll kick off the dock and kind of launch myself at you,” I suggested. “No kicking,” I promised him before he could remind me.

The next two attempts were closer. Jonah actually fell over backward, which I considered to be respectable progress in our scientific method. We surfaced laughing, and this time he scraped my bangs out of my face.

“One more try,” he said with a sexy eyebrow wiggle. I didn’t even know eyebrows could be sexy before Jonah.

“We’ve got this,” I said with confidence. “We’re a good team.”

I swam back and assumed the position. “Are you ready for me? Because I’m coming in hot.”

“Oh, I’m ready for you,” he assured me.

And he was.

His hands went around my waist, and just like with the swim, my brain shut down, and my body took over. I jumped as he lifted, and then I was airborne. Arms spread, core taut. I was flying, and Jonah was holding me up.

“We’re doing it!”

“We are when we get home!”





*



Scarlett: I’m not sure, but it looks like Shelby and Jonah are practicing the lift from Dirty Dancing off my dock.





Cassidy: So cute! Also, we need to re-watch Dirty Dancing immediately.





Scarlett: Agreed. Hang on. I have to get a picture of this. We can give it to them at their wedding.





Cassidy: I’ll go halfsies with you on a frame.





37





Shelby





“That scar,” Jonah noted, when I climbed in the car next to him, soggy on the outside yet physically aroused inside. The plan was to go home, enjoy a quickie, as the cool kids called it, then meet my parents who were pig-sitting for June and GT. He trailed a finger over the jagged mark that scored my upper thigh.

It wasn’t exactly a question, but I felt like he was hunting for an answer anyway.

“It happened a long time ago,” I said. “Hey, have you seen Gibson lately? Your Mom was asking how he was handling this whole ‘Callie Kendall is officially dead’ thing.”

“It looks like it was a pretty deep cut,” he said casually, completely ignoring my segue.

I, being a trained observer, was instantly suspicious. “After I graduated with my bachelor’s, I worked in the city as a social worker for a while. One of my house calls didn’t go well.” I said it lightly. I’d earned the right to say it lightly. To not tremble every time I thought of what happened in that apartment.

“Someone did that to you?” His voice was even, but I saw his jaw tighten.

“It’s a long, boring story,” I sighed airily. “So how is Gibson? Have you talked to him?” Call me Miss Direction. Ha. Nerd joke.

“He’s not answering anyone’s calls as far as I know. We’ve all taken turns. Probably just holed up with a project. Did it happen the same time as the one on your chest?” Jonah ventured.

He’d taken a very careful inventory of my body. First as a trainer and now as a very thorough lover.

“Okay, which one of my big-mouthed family members opened their gigantic mouths?” I demanded, dropping the pretense.

“Your brother. Why don’t you want to talk about it with me?” he asked with that stupid sexy grin.

“It’s not exactly the feel-good story of the year, Jonah.” The truth was, I was proud I’d lived through it. But when people heard what happened, when they saw the scars, they looked at me differently. Just like I knew they would if they knew about my diagnosis.

I hated the pity, the worry, the whispered concerns.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you know,” I snapped at the silent and listening Jonah. I wasn’t angry at him specifically, but he was here. He was handy.

“I don’t doubt that,” he said in that careful neutral tone.

“Yes, you do. Everyone does. I’m too small. Too nerdy. Always have my nose stuck in a book. Too smart for my own good. Too much thinking, not enough doing.”

“Has anyone actually said those things to you, or are you just putting words in people’s mouths?” he asked.

I crossed my arms over my chest, the wet of my bathing suit bleeding through my t-shirt. “Plenty of people have said them, and more have thought them. For instance, if I’d been more assertive about seducing you, you wouldn’t have dragged your feet for so damn long.”

“You said ‘damn.’”

“You’re damn right I did.” My temper was a hibernating dragon. It rarely reared its fiery head, but when it did, watch out. “That’s how mad I am right now. What was GT’s reasoning for telling you? Worrying that I couldn’t take care of myself? Hoping you’ll step up to be my new babysitter?”