I looked up when I saw him walking down the dock, carrying two Long Island ice teas. I took a moment to drink in every toned inch of the man towering over me.
“Can you give me a hand?” He motioned. “Don’t want to slosh all the alcohol out of these drinks before we get the chance to enjoy them.”
“These drinks are huge,” I remarked.
I lifted the lemon from the edge of the Styrofoam cup and squeezed it into the drink. I tipped the cup back and gulped down a few swallows, wanting to feel the warm numbness the alcohol would spread through my body
“Hold on, girl. These are strong.” He swooped in, trying to slow me down.
“I think I can handle my alcohol, thank you very much.” I knocked back another sip.
Blake laughed. “Maybe. But I don’t want to carry my passengers home.”
He took a sip of his tea, and I watched his eyes as they carried over my shoulder, down my collarbone, and dipped between my breasts.
“Are you checking me out?” I blurted out before I had time to cap the filter on my words.
“Darlin’, I’m just takin’ in the view.” He smiled. “You aren’t making this easy.”
“What does that mean?”
He sat and watched a sailboat cruise past them, heading toward the sound.
“Hey, Blake, you playin’ tonight?” a rowdy voice called from the crowd. They were teetering on the railing, which ran in front of the Dock House.
I looked at Blake quizzically.
“Nah, not tonight.” He raised his cup to them.
The guys started to laugh.
“Oh yeah, sorry, man. Looks like you’ve got other plans.” They staggered off to the dark side of the pier.
“What were they talking about?” I asked.
A smile slid across Blake’s lips. “I play a little. Sometimes on open mic night.”
“What? Are you any good?” I couldn’t help myself. I thought I knew everything about him, but he was revealing just how much I didn’t know. We had years to catch up on.
“Well, now I guess you’d have to tell me that. I just play.”
“When did you start playing? I’ve never heard you.”
He eyed me and I felt the guilt. This was the time when he was going to tell me I left before I got to know him. That there were parts of him I’d never bothered to find out.
He let out a long exhale. “A friend of mine in the music business started messing around with his guitar. I picked it up pretty quickly.”
I bit the inside of my lip. Of course. He had celebrity friends. Parties. Backstage passes. Island trips to the Caribbean. It was naïve of me to think that just because I watched his press conferences I still knew him.
I felt little needles of green envy surfacing at the thought of other people knowing a part of him I didn’t.
“I’d would love to hear you play some time. Will you tell me the next time you perform?”
“Uh, sure. I’ll let you know.”
Under the stars and low lights of the Dock House things should have felt normal. They should have felt familiar, but all I could think about was what had happened eight years ago. How much distance and history there was between us.
And suddenly, I found myself desperate to fix all of it. To discover who he was now. To know the man he had become. The problem was I had no idea where to start. I couldn’t get my bearings when he was near.