Page 3 of Restored Dreams

“Midge found this place for me,” I offer. Brut chuckles, swiping a hand through his hair and making it lay back on his head. The white is a striking color, and with the matching stubble on his jaw, my mouth waters. His head shakes, and I’m missing something as a teasing smile crosses his face.

“Damn Hank and Midge,” he mutters, slipping his hands into his shorts pockets. He’s returned his shirt to cover himself, and the blue material makes his eyes more intense. They drift to the bed, and he looks as though he wants to sit but thinks twice about it.

“I guess I could leave,” I suggest although I really don’t want to go. I need this vacation. I’ve earned it, and after weeks of planning, I was in the mindset to be here. I don’t want to go somewhere else, yet I can’t stay here with Brut. Something definitely is not adding up.

“Maybe I should go,” he offers without conviction, swiping awkwardly through his hair again. Little tunnels form in the white, making it stand up and look a little freshly rumpled as if he just rolled around in bed. Damn, he’s sexy, I think distractedly. I’ve kept up on Brut. I know he works hard and owns his own business like me. If his work ethic matches mine, he hasn’t had a vacation in years either and needs this time off like I do. “I could see if something else is open along the beach.”

I snort. It’s an unattractive trait.

“What was that?” He chortles.

“What?” I say, dismissing the nasally noise.

“That sound?” I ignore his teasing inquiry and wave a hand. The towel slips with my movement, and I instantly return my fingers to the wrap.

“You’ll never find another place here. It’s the beach in August.” With his attention focused where my hand holds the wet terrycloth, I’m not certain he’s heard me. Speaking of the towel, the damp material grows uncomfortable against my skin, and I grab the dress off the bed. His eyes shift left, and I take the moment to tug the dress over my head. In one swift move, I drag the dress down my body while removing the towel from under the new covering. Deck change. Swiping the towel forward, it waves like a flag between us. Brut’s eyes widen at my skill, or maybe it’s that my breasts stand more erect, nipples pressing at the stretchy bathing suit-like material. His hand swipes through his hair again, and he turns his entire body away from me. The rejection stings.

“I guess we could both stay here,” he offers weakly. He doesn’t sound convincing, but I’m reassured because if I know one thing about Brut, it’s that he isn’t interested in me. When I think about it, there shouldn’t be a problem with us remaining in the same place. I guess we could work around it. Maybe set some rules…

“I mean, I’m sure we can work something out,” he says as if reading my thoughts. “I plan to do a lot of surfing, so I won’t really be in your way unless someone else is meeting you…” His voice fades, and he spins fully to face me again, resting his fists on his hips.

“Is someone meeting you here?” The sharp question snaps at me like a rolled-up wet towel. His eyes narrow, and his jaw clenches.

“No,” I squeak. “No, I have no plans like that…I’m alone…I mean…” Shut up, I warn myself. My eyes close, and I take a deep breath. The exhale lowers my shoulders, and one strap of my dress slips to my upper arm. Suddenly, fingers brush the strap upward and linger at my collarbone. I flinch, and my lids snap open.

“Sorry,” Brut mumbles, retracting his hand after straightening my dress. He nods, steps back, and reaches for his bag. “We’ll figure this out,” he states brusquely before stepping around me. When the soft click of the door to the second bedroom echoes through the space, I realize I’ve been holding my breath. Sigh.

Of course, we can work this out, I tell myself. I’m an adult. I’m over him, I mentally cheerlead. Only my heart plays devil’s advocate: Yeah, right.

4

Code 739

[Brut]

Lily fucking Warren. What are the odds? What is the chance? Then I realize, it’s neither. It’s all Hank. Damn him.

I hustle to the second bedroom, contemplating a call to my younger brother to rip him a new one. He set this up on purpose, and I have a few choice words for him. But the moment I press his number, I just as quickly hit end call.

Would it really be so bad to share the house with Lily? It’s only a week. We are adults. What happened between us seems like a lifetime ago. Water under a bridge and all that. But the drops of memory slowly fill a bucket as I keep hearing more and more about Lily lately. Ever since Hank told me he went to her cupcake place, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of her. However, I don’t know what to say to her.

Hey Lil, I know it’s been twenty years but…

Lily, we should talk sometime…

Lily pad, can you ever forgive me…

There was no easy way to start all the conversations we should have.

Add in the little fact of seeing her naked, and I probably should leave the house. But I don’t want to. Not to mention, holy shit, aging has only enhanced Lily’s beauty. At nineteen, she was once a spitfire with long blonde hair and wild blue eyes. Ripe as a peach, she was ready to be tasted and savored for the first time. I was twenty-three back then and did the best I could to maintain her innocence, but she made it damn difficult to resist her. I’m hard once again, just at the thought of her. Her toned body and subtle curves, along with the delicacy tattooed on her hip. I don’t think I’ve been this stiff in a year; it’s as if my body recognizes where it longs to go—a place it’s never been—because I fucked that up.

I throw my phone on the bed and fall to my back. Both hands dig into my hair, tugging gently. Can I do this? Can I stay here? I chuckle without humor. Karma, you fucking bitch. This would be my luck. A week forcing me to finally face Lily and all I did to her, to us. I’d like to dismiss it as a long time ago— youth, and alcohol, and all kinds of excuses—but the bottom line is: I made a mistake. A big one with a capital B. That mistake cost me…everything.

I sigh as I sit up, and my head tilts to take in the bright late afternoon sunshine reflecting off the ocean. Fuck it. I’m not leaving, and neither is she.

I find Lily in the kitchen unpacking groceries, something I hadn’t yet considered purchasing. I’d most likely eat out all week, and that’s the decision I make at the moment.

“I called the rental agent,” I lied, but I don’t let guilt touch me on this one. “You’re right. I won’t find anything else this week along the beach.” It’s August, it’s California, and it’s a week before schools return to session. The beach is packed with visitors. “So maybe we can just figure something out.”