Page 4 of Jonny’s Redemption

The sight before him—beautiful. The sounds of the waves crashing, hypnotic. Yet Jonny preferred the sun dipping under the woods behind his house in Cliff City. Preferred the sounds of the leaves rustling and the geese in the fall over beachgoers and waves.

Then why the hell am I still here?

The thought flew from his mind as quickly as it had entered. He was in Dewey Beach taking a sabbatical.

You’re not taking a sabbatical, you’re hiding, you jackass.

Weeks of isolation had done nothing to clear his mind. To soothe the guilt that ravaged his conscience. His friends had stopped calling after the first week. Nixon, Jameson, Weston, Alec, Chasin, and Holden had called him nonstop the first seven days. Jonny hadn’t picked up a single call. On day eight, Nix had sent a text telling Jonny he had thirty days to get his shit together.

It was day thirty, so Jonny wasn’t surprised when he heard the crushing of gravel. He didn’t bother to get up. The door was unlocked but even if it wasn’t, the stairs at the side of the house led straight to the second-floor balcony where Jonny was enjoying the view.

No, you’re not, you idiot. You hate the beach.

The sound of feet on the stairs had Jonny tipping his head back and closing his eyes. He’d been right, his thirty days was up. He’d just been wrong about who made the two-hour drive to tell him. Of all the people who could’ve come, Bobby Layne was the worst possible person.

Bobby was…everything. Nothing. The woman he wanted more than air. The woman he never wanted to see again. She was everything and nothing and her mere presence was a stab in the heart.

“Why are you here, Bobby?” Jonny asked, not opening his eyes.

“How’d you know it was me?”

Christ, her voice. He’d missed her voice. That Southern twang she tried to hide, but when she was pissed it came out in full force. Sweet and spicy, that was his Bobby.

No, asshole, she’s not yours.

Maybe thirty days of total seclusion hadn’t been the best idea. Not only was he talking to himself, he was now answering. Not only in his head like right then, but verbally when he was pacing the house at night. Hours and hours of wondering how his life had gone to hell. The best he could figure, it was the day his father had cheated on his mother.

Yeah, that was when Jonny’s life had taken a nosedive and nothing had ever been the same.

“Jonny?”

“Why are you here?” Jonny repeated.

He wasn’t going to admit he didn’t need to open his eyes to know it was her standing next to him. He’d never cop to the way his body came alive when he sensed she was near.

Jonny just knew it like she was a part of him.

“I didn’t like the way we left things,” she said timidly.

That was new.

Bobby was not timid, she was bold and outspoken. She didn’t take shit from anyone. Most especially not from Jonny. It was one of the many things he loved about her. Bobby was a pixie of a woman. A small little thing with a big attitude.

Hearing the nervous tenor made him right his head and open his eyes. Immediately he wished he hadn’t. Her blonde hair was longer than she’d worn it when he first met her. The bob had grown out and the tips now brushed below her shoulders. Short or longer, Jonny didn’t care, but the sight of it always made him want to run his fingers through it. Fist it and use the locks to hold her steady as he kissed her. But it wasn’t her hair that had him on edge, it was her shorts. Her short-shorts that showed off a hell of a lot of tanned, toned leg. She was too short to have long legs, but what they lacked in length they made up for in shape. The woman had perfect legs and Jonny had spent a good number of hours imagining what they’d feel like wrapped around his hips.

He hadn’t gone past his perusal of her shorts when she sighed and Jonny’s gaze lifted to meet hers.

That was okay. He didn’t need to take in her midriff and chest to know Bobby’s hips flared nicely before her waist dipped in, only to have her breasts swell. Bobby didn’t often bare cleavage but when she did it was impressive and sexy as all hell.

She was a pretty package. But, like Bobby, Jonny was a sucker for eyes. And hers were stunning.

“Maybe I shouldn’t’ve—”

“Shouldn’t have what?” he snapped. “Driven out here?”

Her shoulders went stiff and those beautiful, sparkling hazel eyes of hers narrowed.

“No, Jonny,” she spat in the same tone Jonny had used. “Maybe I shouldn’t have given a shit you came out here to brood and whatever the hell else you’re doing out here all by yourself.”