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The brain meltdown could rival Chernobyl, and I still don’t want to talk.
I want to ravage her again, tangle her around me, whisper filthy promises, and watch her stare at me with fuck-me eyes I don’t deserve.
Of course, she just has to be a hellcat in the sheets.
So shy at first, and then wild enough to need taming.
She’s delicate and needy and so goddamned good for me she’s bad. Like any helpless addict, I’m already jonesing for another hit, and ready to throw the consequences to the wind.
“Cole, you with me? Does that sound good?” Troy reaches across the table with a dimpled grin and flicks me between the eyes.
“Ah, fuck you,” I mutter, swatting his hand away.
He laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever done.
“Do that again, and you’re fired,” I snap.
“Had to get your attention somehow. It worked, didn’t it?” He settles back in his seat with an assessing glance. “So, the price lock for the Winthrope proposal. You sure you’re good with decoupling from fair market value for those beans?”
“Yeah. It’s only for five years.” It takes too long to remember Brock Winthrope wanting a price guarantee on the peaberry beans being supplied to his resorts.
I need to get my shit together.
Too many people’s futures are on the line for errors, and errors are all too likely when I’m painfully consumed by Eliza.
“You seem distracted. Everything okay?” Troy studies my face.
I can’t help but smile. I’m better than I’ve felt in years.
“Yeah. I’m good, and so is Dess.”
“You look different. Almost like a man who’s waking up with a reason to smile again—or is it waking up with someone?” he asks excitedly.
“None of your business,” I bite off.
“Is it Miss E-lectric?”
His moronic nickname makes me cringe, even if I can’t deny the current Eliza jolts through my soul.
Plus, I’ve known this man since I was nineteen. He doesn’t give up easily.
“Not appropriate. How many times do I have to tell you, Troy? She works for me. For us. Lay off of her and my damn sex life while you’re at it.”
He rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air.
“Somebody’s touchy.” He lowers his voice. “And somebody definitely got laid.”
Christ.
My look could cut him open from his balls to his chin.
Before I can lay into him again, the door to my library office swings open.
“Daddy, there’s a bunch of turtles up the beach! Want to check them out?” Destiny stands there with a golden tan, her coral-pink shades already pulled over her eyes.
There’s my excuse to shut Troy down. I stand.
“Yeah, baby girl.” And then we can do anything you want because you just saved my ass.
I go to meet her at the door.
“I’ll tell my people we’re on for the price lock then,” Troy calls after me. “Oh yeah, and nice save, Lancaster.”
“What’s he mean?” Destiny asks, giving me a puzzled look.
“Who knows. Your Uncle Troy isn’t right in the head,” I mutter.
“Dad, that’s mean!” She smacks my arm. “But let’s see if Eliza wants to come...”
Oh, fuck.
Just hearing her name and knowing she might show up with too much skin hanging out makes my cock twitch.
Oh, fuck, no.
No, I can’t be doing this.
“She’s probably busy,” I warn. And I’m still not sure what this is, Eliza teaching my daughter to enjoy the ocean while I teach Eliza how to surf waves of ecstasy she never imagined.
“We should at least ask,” Dess says insistently.
I shrug, holding in a huge sigh.
If I’m already in hell, I’d might as well get comfortable with the heat.
“I suppose we could—hey!”
I don’t even finish the sentence before Destiny takes off, running around the house and looking for Eliza. I’m equally relieved and disappointed when she doesn’t find her.
“Dess, I have a meeting at three o’clock. If you want to go see these turtles, we’d better go now, or we won’t be able to.”
“Okay!” She leads the way down to the beach, bounding out the back door.
Halfway to the supposed turtle nest, I pass the spot where Eliza pulled that ridiculous little pipe from her pocket and brewed coffee on the sand. The same place where we first kissed.
Damn, she makes me come alive in such dangerous ways.
“Dad, did you hear me?” Destiny asks.
“What?”
“Can we get a smoothie? I’m so thirsty. There’s a stand up there.”
I look up and see a couple beach bums with a makeshift smoothie and acai bowl stand.
“Sure. It would be refreshing,” I say.
Dammit. I’ve turned into a sap.
A few minutes later with a banana-coconut drink in hand that I really wish had rum, we find the heap of green sea turtles up the beach. They’ve already been roped off by the authorities to keep them safe from dumbass tourists. Destiny wades into the water past the ropes, hoping for a closer look.
“Give them their space, Dess. They’re a protected species!” I call.
