Undeniable (Cloverleigh Farms #2)(109)

“Show-off. You still swim a lot?”

“I belong to a gym. Sometimes I swim before work. It’s good exercise.”

“You look good doing it.”

“Thanks.” She turned around and stroked back toward me. When she got close, she ducked under and then stood up, tilting her head back to get her hair off her face, water streaming down her body.

“You look good, period,” I told her, unable to stop staring at her curves, her skin, her taut little nipples poking through the fabric of her bikini top. My dick started to get hard.

She didn’t say anything for a moment. “Oliver, what did you mean earlier, when you said I cross your mind?”

“I meant that I’ve thought about you.” I moved closer to her, drawn by some invisible force. “I still think about you.”

She backed up. “Did you think about me when you left for Europe without even saying goodbye? When you ignored my texts and phone calls? When you came home and started a distillery without me?”

“Yes. I know you don’t believe me, but I did.”

“All you had to do was text me back. ‘Decided to move to Europe and party for two years instead of go into business with you. Peace out.’”

“I’m sorry. I should have.”

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t.”

“I was young and stupid, Chloe. I wasn’t ready to handle what I felt for you after that weekend. I panicked.”

“You said things. I thought you meant them.”

“I did. I just …” Seeing how hurt she was even after all this time cinched my heart. “Freaked out. I’m sorry.” I got close enough to her to take her by the shoulders. “I meant every word I said that weekend. And I mean what I’m saying to you now—you’re special to me.”

She looked away from me, toward the horizon. “We can’t keep doing this every time we see each other. It … messes with me. Every time I think I know what we are, what this is, how we feel, it blows up in my face.”

“It messes with me too. I left Chicago—fuck, I left the country, so I could try to forget you.” I squeezed her arms. “But I never did.”

“We’re going into business together, Oliver. We can’t be more than friends.”

I took her chin in my hand, forcing her to look at me. “We’ve always been more than friends.”

She didn’t argue.

Unable to resist, I pressed my lips to her forehead, her cheek, her jaw.

“This is a terrible, terrible idea,” she said weakly.

“I know.” I moved my mouth down her throat.

“One of us needs to be rational and stop this before it starts.”

“Definitely.” I pulled her body tighter against mine, and she shivered. “Are you cold?”

“No. I just … felt you, and I got excited.” Then she pushed me back. “But that’s enough.”

Inwardly groaning, I held up my hands and backed up. “Sorry.”

We looked at each other under the darkening sky, our skin blanketed with goosebumps. “We’re not kids anymore,” she said softly. “We have to be mature and think about the bigger picture. The long-term success of Brown Eyed Girl is more important than short-term gratification, right?”

“Right,” I said. “But in the future, we should definitely not hold business meetings in our bathing suits. Your body is killing me.”

She folded her arms over her chest and gave me a sly grin, her eyes half-shut. “Good.”





We each collected some water, purified it, and cleaned up. I gave Chloe the privacy of the tent while I took advantage of the empty woods to strip naked and give myself a quick, frigid bath. I dressed in shorts and a clean T-shirt as fast as I could, trying not to become a mosquito feast, and used a little more clean water to brush my teeth. From the west, I heard the distant roll of thunder, which surprised me. I hadn’t seen any storms on the radar.

I called out to Chloe. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.” She unzipped the tent. “I just want to brush my teeth, but I’ll do it out there. Was that thunder?”

“Yeah. A summer storm must have popped up.” I saw the worried look on her face. “But probably just a small one.”

We switched places, and she was gone for only a minute or two before hustling back inside. “I saw some lightning. You’re sure we’ll be okay in here if it storms?”

“Positive,” I told her, trying not to dwell on the fact that she didn’t appear to be wearing shorts beneath her large T-shirt. “But let’s move all our stuff inside. We’ll have a little less room for sleeping, but we don’t want wet gear.” We gathered everything up and got it inside the tent just as the first fat raindrops began to fall. The thunder grew louder.

“It’s so dark all of a sudden,” she said nervously. “Did you pack a light?”

I pulled a small LED lantern from my pack and switched it on, setting it in one corner of the tent. “There. Better?”

“Yes.”

“I’d forgotten you were afraid of the dark,” I teased, tossing my flip-flops aside.

“I’m not afraid,” she said, tucking hers behind her pack. “I just don’t like it. Same way you don’t like ketchup.”