Anchor’s eyes narrow, his chin lowers, giving me smoldering eyes that—okay, now I know my pussy is doing things that have absolutely nothing to do with my clothes being wet.
He's trouble. All sorts of trouble.
I knew that the moment I saw him out on that stand-up paddleboard.
I unpacked my car, put my groceries away, and looked out the screen door and saw that man out on that paddleboard. I knew that I would be too distracted to read my novel if he was out there, paddling away. So precise, so erotic, so—
“You're staring again,” he says.
“Sorry,” I say, pressing a hand to my skull unnecessarily but using it as an excuse. “It's the wound, the near concussion you gave me.”
“If I remember correctly, you're the one who stepped towards me, pushing me into the water. And then you reached for me, which pulled you right in. I think I should be blaming you for this fall.”
“No.” I shake my head. “This is my birthday week. This is my vacation. You can't blame me for anything.”
He grins. “It's your birthday week?”
“Yeah,” I say. “My birthday’s tomorrow. I came up here for a calm, relaxing vacation.”
He smiles. “And you're gonna go call your daddy to make sure I'm supposed to be here? He solve all your problems?”
I frown. “As a matter of fact, my father is a great man. Redford Rough, he's the person who renovated your entire property so you shouldn't be such an ass about it.”
His eyes widen at that. “He did a really fucking good job. The house is incredible.”
“Well, the finishing touches were thanks to me,” I say with a smile.
“You're an interior designer?”
I shrug. “On the side. I was thinking of starting a business one day, but it's a little hard. I'm working so much for my family right now. It's kind of difficult to get anything going.”
He nods. “Actually,” he says, “before you go, there's one other thing I wanted to say.”
“What's that?” I ask.
“Well, you're saying I'm some weirdo for having a name like Anchor, but your name is Lemon. It's not that much better.”
I smile at that because how can you not. “Fair point,” I say. “I guess we both had weird parents.”
Anchor gives me a soft smile. “You're really mad to share a dock with me?”
“I don't even know you. You're lucky my brothers aren't here. They'd have a fit if they knew I was staying next to you all week.”
“Why is that?” Anchor asks, stepping closer.
“Well. Actually.” I swallow, suddenly feeling hot, bothered and not in a good way—more like embarrassed. “Scratch that,” I say. “Are you staying at your new property with anyone else or is this a solo vacation?”
He chuckles, “Is that your way of asking if I'm single?”
Thinking I might have put my foot in my mouth, I groan. “Okay. Yes, you caught me. Are you single, Anchor, or are you here on this romantic vacation with your wife, your children? Your girlfriend?”
“I’m single,” he says, “and I plan on keeping it that way.” His look is so deadpan and so intense, I feel a shiver run down my spine. I realize he's not joking.
Okay, so he is not dating material. Good to know.
I lick my lips. “Great,” I say. “Sounds like you’re a real catch.”
With that, I run a hand over my sopping wet dress and turn on my heels. “It was great meeting you,” I say, calling over my shoulder. “Really fantastic. Really.”
He laughs, “Yeah, Lemon, likewise.”
I turn around when I reach the end of the dock, hating that I am but unable to hold back.
The thing is, Anchor is just staring at me.
“You have a really fine ass,” he tells me. The compliment is not hidden by anything. Plain as day.
My jaw drops open.
“You're just gonna say it, just like that?”
“It’s the truth,” he says. “I can't not say it.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
He shrugs. “See you later, Lemon.”
I march back into the house and pick up my cell phone, ready to press Call on my dad's number.
But then I look out the window at Anchor. He's carrying his paddleboard up onto the deck, walking across the lawn to his house. He pauses, looking over his property, up to mine. He can't see me in the kitchen window. But god, I can see him.
He looks incredible.
I know if I call my father it's gonna be a whole thing. He's gonna ask all these details about Anchor that I don't know. Rye might overhear the whole thing, considering they work side-by-side.
Maybe Bartlett’s over. Heck, Mac could be too, for all I know.
Reuben, even. Do I want everyone to know my business?
Isn't the whole point of coming up here to get away from my family and their deep dive into every detail of my love life?
I set my phone down, remembering Graham and Mac finding my vibrator.