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I’d completely forgotten my parents were close enough to hear everything I say.
“There she goes,” Cap whispers in my ear as the cars start running at full speed.
He might mean the race…but I’m pretty sure he’s referring to my lack of inhibition.
Because as long as my parents are here, I’ll never fully relax.
When we get back to the lake house, covered in a thin layer of grime and dirt that the cars have thrown up on us, I’m determined.
I’ve just spent the better part of four hours trying like hell to let go of my reservations and failing.
And I’m so done with it. So over my overanalyzing, over the annoying sense I have to be perfect all the time, over the fact that I like a player.
Because I do. For as little as I’ve given him to show it, Cap is one of the most interesting, funny, complex guys I’ve ever met. He never fails to make me laugh, make me smile—even when I’m trying like hell not to smile. And even though I’ve tried my damnedest to ignore the fact that I actually like spending time with him, I like seeing his smiling, handsome face every morning at the office. It’s the reality of my situation.
I like this guy. A fucking lot. And I don’t want to miss out on another second of enjoying this weekend with him.
It’s time I live a little. With this crazy, fucking ridiculous man who has burrowed himself inside my head. And your heart.
As my parents disappear inside the house, I pull Cap by the hand around to the backyard and walk swiftly down toward the water.
His boat is parked at his dock, but since the season isn’t right for lake sports, it’s covered.
I start snapping off the buttons of the cover at the sides, and he laughs.
“So, I guess you want to go out on the boat?”
I nod. “Can we?”
“We can do anything you want, Ruby,” he says earnestly, pulling me gently out of the way. He makes much quicker work of the cover than I’d be able to, climbs aboard, and then holds out a hand to me.
I follow dutifully before realizing how cold I’m going to be once we’re moving.
“Shoot. Maybe I should run up to the house and get a blanket.”
He smiles and lifts up the seat across from mine. I watch as he rifles around in it for a minute and then comes out with a blanket.
“Wow. So prepared.”
He winks. “A good lawyer is always prepared.”
I settle into the seat in the front as he gets behind the wheel and fires up the engine. It purrs in the otherwise silent night, and neon lights blink on to light the water around us.
I gasp. “Wow. Pretty.”
He chuckles as he starts to back out of the slip and pulls his jacket a little higher on his neck.
I wrap myself in the blanket he procured as we cruise out from the dock and into open water. The wind feels good on my face, even if it is cold, and the quiet night and still water of the lake bring peace to my tight chest.
I’ve had a fist around my heart for the past two and a half months—probably as a defense against Cap’s charm—and it feels so good to let it pump freely.
We drive for miles, just taking in the scenery and each other. Cap’s features are completely at ease, his dimple poking a hole in the perfect apple of his smiling cheek.
I watch his eyes as they study the path in front of us, and I get lost in their intelligence. He’s fun, sure, but he’s smart enough to be that way even in the most complicated of circumstances. I envy his ability to let go.
Finally, we come to a big, deserted cove. Cap pulls in and shuts off the engine, and my stomach flips over on itself.
The air is completely silent and still, and I can hear myself breathe.
Which is a freaking problem because I sound like I just ran a freaking half marathon.
Cap doesn’t mention it, though, tossing what I assume is an anchor off the front and then settling on the seat next to me and confiscating some of the blanket.
My stomach is cramping and unsettled, and I have never been this nervous—or maybe it’s excited—in my life.
Which is probably why I don’t freaking think before I speak. “How many women have you slept with?”
Cap jerks his head back, and my cheeks heat to the temperature of lava.
Good God, Ruby. Why on earth would you ask something like that?
He sighs a little and then groans. “I don’t know.”
“Like, the number is so high, you don’t even know it?”
He shakes his head with a smile. “Like, I don’t keep a count going because it’d be really fucking tacky and rude of me to label women with numbers instead of just remembering their names.”
