Her eyes spark. “Me too. I was hoping something would happen with a job thing I wanted. A promotion. It didn’t, and I came to the beach to escape.”
“Same. I sort of don’t know what’s happening next.” That hasn’t changed, but I don’t feel as frustrated as I did this morning.
She sits up straighter. “Exactly. It’s weird to even think about going in tomorrow, or how I should act.”
“It’s tough, when your work future is unclear,” I admit.
With a sage look, she says, “So, you’re okay to skip the whole what-do-you-do conversation right now? We can discuss it later.”
Later, as in after I take her home. Or later as in later in the week when I take her out to dinner. Either works for me.
“Then, it’s a topic for next time,” I say, then meet her brown-eyed gaze straight on. “You want to get out of here?”
“Now?” Her voice pitches up.
“Yes. Now. But if you’d rather not, that’s cool. If you’d rather wait, next time is more than fine too.”
She hesitates, seeming to weigh up my offer as she nibbles on the corner of her lips. “I don’t want to take advantage of you, Drew. Your injury and all.”
I toss my head back and laugh. “Honey, you’re not taking advantage of me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Your goose egg, I mean.”
Like I’d let that stop me. “Want to check it?”
“Yes.” Gently, she pushes the ice pack aside, brushing her palm over my head again. Her touch is reassuring. Caring. But also, arousing. She runs herlong fingers over my head, and I’m picturing her hands tightening in my hair as I spread her legs and taste her.
Like maybe in the next fifteen minutes.
“What’s the report?” I ask.
“I think your goose egg is history, Drew,” she says.
That is excellent news. I lift my hand and tuck a strand of her soft hair behind her ear, then run my fingers down the strand. “Then, I’m good to go. Are you?”
Her eyes twinkle. “Let’s get out of here.”
3
ALL THE INNUENDO
Drew
I silently curse my board shorts. They don’t hide a tent at all. But I’m both a gentleman and a strategist.
“After you,” I say when we rise from the table. As she walks ahead of me, I recite a new passing route in my head. Boom. Five seconds to deflation.
There is nothing to send a dick downward like thoughts of work.
We stop on the street at Carter’s truck, parked at the corner of the boardwalk with my board sticking out of the bed.
Brooke glances at the board, then looks at me. “I’m nearby, but if you’d rather drive, we can do that,” she offers.
“I can handle a short walk.”
“You’re so tough,” she says drily.
“That’s me. Hardy. Able to withstand short walks from the beach on a beautiful day,” I say, as I set a hand on the small of her back.