What Lovers Do(34)

“Perfect. I like it when I can be a little unpredictable.”

“Oh, Shep … you are anything but predictable.”

We converse for the next two hours. It’s absurd. We’re in the same house. Yet, it’s fun in the way that building a fort and sleeping on a pile of blankets and sofa cushions is fun even if there are perfectly good beds available.

Waking at four in the morning, I can’t get back to sleep, so I slip out back, open the cover to the pool, and turn on the pool’s lights. It glows in the early morning darkness. I shrug off my nightshirt and step into the cool water, wading my way to the infinity edge and resting my arms on it.

“And you led me to believe you weren’t an early riser.”

“Shit!” I glance over my shoulder. “I’m not wearing anything!”

Shep sits on the edge of the pool in his swim trunks, no shirt, like he did last night. “I see that.”

“Yet, you’re staring at me.” I keep one hand on the edge so I don’t sink, and use my other hand to cover my breasts while drawing my knees up to hide my other area.

“I am. How are you this morning?”

“I’m naked.”

“How did you sleep? Naked as well?”

“Would you mind turning around so I can get to my towel and shirt?”

“Our tee time is at six. Want me to take Cersei for a walk while you get ready? Then we can grab breakfast. Sorry. Nothing is open this early, so I hope you’re good with cereal or toaster waffles.” He’s enjoying this too much.

Shep can’t beat me at golf, so he’s trying to clench a poolside victory.

I will not shrivel into a ball of embarrassment, pleading for him to be a gentleman and turn away. I am done. Done. DONE letting men take advantage of me.

“Who doesn’t love toaster waffles?” I don my most confident smile as I swim toward him.

His grin incrementally swells until I start up the corner stairs and he realizes I’m getting out of the pool. Naked. Giving no fucks that he’s watching me. That grin of his falters a bit like it did yesterday when I handed him his ass on the golf course.

I towel off, shaking a bit from the chilly air, but more than that, I’m way out of my element here—a first-time stripper on the stage. Only I’m not trying to look sexy. I’m shooting for unaffected. Indifferent, yet confident.

Tossing my towel aside, I slip on my nightshirt and then step into my panties. Shep doesn’t blink. Not once.

“Hope it’s real maple syrup. And I’ll walk Cersei. She’s my dog.” I saunter into the house, resisting every urge to run and scream, “Oh my god! I just let him see me naked!”

By the time I emerge from the room, Cersei is ready for her walk. Shep’s waiting by the door, looking his usual hot self—wavy, wet hair, a fitted tee, jogging shorts, and a lidded cup of coffee in each hand.

“Hi.” He grins.

I return the sentiment. “Fine. Thank you.”

He breaks into a spontaneous laugh—one that makes my tummy do those weird flips again.

“I added soy milk and sugar to yours.” He bends down, causing me to freeze in place and have a mini heart attack. The second his lips press to my cheek, I feel it like a zing of electricity all the way to my toes. I need an “anti” pill.

Antibiotics to combat bacteria.

Antihistamines for pesky allergies.

Antidepressants for dealing with the Jimmies of the world.

Anti-shepherds to prevent my legs from spreading because the pet store guy has a great smile and knows how I like my coffee.

“Wh…” my voice trembles “…what makes you think I’m a soy milk and sugar girl?” I take the coffee with a shaky hand, and he opens the door.

“It’s what you ordered yesterday when we stopped for coffee on our way out of Scottsdale. I’m observant.”

We step outside.

“Like I observed that birthmark on your inner thigh.” He adds this unnecessary detail.

Don’t react …

I have a birthmark on my inner right thigh. It’s really high up my leg. Shep didn’t miss anything last night while I was in my bikini or this morning when I was in … nothing.

After taking a sip of coffee, I clear my throat. “Today, you need to focus on not letting your wrists break too soon on your swing.”

He laughs. “We’re talking golf now, huh? I like talking about all the things I’ve observed about you more than I like talking golf.”

“I’m just sharing what I observed about you.”

We cut through a rocky area that leads to the trail.

“Are you hurt?” I interrupt the crunch of our footsteps over the terrain with my question. I’m feeling brave again. I want to figure out this man, but not cross a line. Maybe just nudge it.

“Hurt?” He gives me a sidelong glance after sipping his coffee as Cersei treks ahead of us.

“Did Millie hurt you? Did losing her leave a scar?”

What am I doing? I’m breaking my own unspoken rules. I’m digging on land that’s not mine. Am I hoping to discover something about Shep that makes it easy to walk away unscathed? I continue, “I can’t imagine loving someone then losing them and it not leaving a mark. Even if losing them also leaves a bad taste in your mouth or resentment. I’ve thought that about every man I’ve loved or thought I loved. I couldn’t stop thinking about the things that made me love them in the first place. And I grieved those. And I think that grief leaves a mark.”