Page 47 of Sexy

I need to get the fuck out of here.

Chapter Sixteen

Lake Tahoe is one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. It’s been developed, sure. But it’s been protected too. There’s a lot of private land surrounding the crystal-clear water. And the Landslide has quite a bit—relatively speaking for such high-value real estate—on either side.

I kick off my shoes and walk diagonally across the sand. It’s packed with people. Families with kids. Newlyweds. Gamblers asleep under the alpine sun. I weave my way through them and head for the rocks on the west side of the hotel where I go to think things through when the doubts creep in.

And they always creep in, right? No matter who you are—no matter how successful your career, or your love life, or your family—those doubts are always there.

I climb over the slate-colored boulders until I find the spot. It’s just a little bit hidden from the hustle and bustle of the hotel beach, but it’s usually enough distance to get some peace.

The water here is so clear. When you think of a lake, you think of a mud-covered bottom. Reeds and silt muddying the water. But Tahoe is the closest thing you can get to clear blue water and not be in the tropics. The sand is white down below, as I gaze down from the rock, and a crawdad goes bustling by on the bottom.

When I was a kid it used to freak me out to know those things were down there with my feet, ready to pinch me. But I never got pinched. My childhood was good. My family was good. Almost everything was good up until I was eighteen. Then life reared its ugly head and taught me that there is no such thing as fair. My dad died that year. And the shit just kept coming. It never stopped. And my brother?

Seeing him yesterday was a shock. It’s been… I count the years on my fingers. Nine of them all told. Nine long years since life fucked me over again.

“Fletcher?”

Fuck. Tiffy must’ve followed me. A few seconds later she stumbles over and falls in the water, her arms flailing and her face shocked from the cold. It’s a mountain lake, after all.

She sputters out some water as she surfaces. “Oh, my God!”

“Hold on,” I say, scrambling over the boulder and then reaching down for her. She grabs my hand and I lift her up out of the water and let her scramble the rest of the way up the side of the rock. “What the fuck is on your feet?”

“Huh?” she says, her teeth chattering. “Shoes.”

“Four-inch heels, Tiffy? Really?”

“It’s what I had on. Jesus. I didn’t know there was a dress requirement. I called your name and you ignored me. And I really need to talk to you.”

“I didn’t hear you.” I picture her trying to walk across the sand in those things. I have to turn my head away to laugh. And I’m not ready to talk to her yet. Not after all those things Claudio told me.

“I j-just,” she stutters through her chattering teeth, “needed to ask you a…” Her eyes lower a little along with her mouth. Her frown is one of worry, not sadness. But if she only knew how much she had to be sad about. “A favor.”

Here it comes. “What favor?”

“Will-llllll you… will you do one more show with the Mountain Men? I know you quit, and you’re not obligated to give notice or anything. But I’d really appreciate it if you’d take my request into consideration.”

“I thought I was a fraud. A cheat. A liar.”

She scrunches up her face. Probably because she really thinks those things and can’t admit it right now. She needs me. “I don’t know. OK? I don’t know what you’re doing with those contracts. Or your many, many one-night stands. Or me, for that matter. You’re confusing, and calculating, and hiding something.”

“Hiding what?” I snap. I’m so sick of this shit. “You don’t even know me, Tiffy. I’m just some dumb stripper to you. I’m a conman, remember?”

She opens her mouth to protest, but I put up my hand and say, “Save it, all right? I’ll do the show. So you can stumble back to the hotel and get changed.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out. Her arms are hugging her body, and her clothes are sticking to her skin. And then she reaches down and unbuckles her shoes and throws them in the water, one at a time.

What the fuck is this?

She slips her shirt over her head and then stands up on the rock and wiggles out of her pants. She lays them both out on the large boulder very carefully, and then sits and props her hands behind her, tipping her face up to the sun.

“What are you doing?”

“Drying off,” she says. “I’m not walking back there soaking wet. And this rock feels good. It’s hot and I’m cold. The sun is making me tired, and it feels good on my skin. I haven’t had a day at the beach in… hell, years.”

I wait for her to say more, but she’s silent. And then she lies all the way back, sighs deep, and closes her eyes.