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“I’m sorry. That sucks.” My chest aches for this woman and I have no idea how anyone can dislike her as much as people seem to. To me, it feels like she’s misunderstood more than anything.
“Thanks. Anyway, Axl—the director—isn’t my biggest fan. So it doesn’t surprise me that he had me wade through the surf to get on the boat.” She drops her voice to a whisper, leaning in close to me. I catch a hint of coconut sunscreen mixing with that delicious perfume she had on yesterday and now my pants are tight.
“Axl’s kind of a dick.”
I chuckle and the corner of her lips tip up into a smile, making her even prettier, if that’s possible.
“I told Scott I’ll pick you up on the dock next time.”
“Thanks. That’s chivalrous of you. I’d prefer filming in dry clothes—don’t think the scene of me coming to Candy Cane Key by boat works too well if I’m dripping wet.”
My eyes lock onto hers and a bright pink flush colors her cheeks.
“You know. From wading.”
“Of course. Happy to help.” I shove a hand in my pocket and tear my gaze away because now all I can think about is Ivy naked beneath me as I drive into her wetness.
Luckily, my cell buzzes, breaking the heavy silence between us.
“Yo.”
“We’re good. Axl has what he needs.” Scott waves at us, shooting a thumbs-up.
“Really? That’s it?” I’m shocked they don’t need anything else. Ivy wading out here seems like a lot of effort for that small amount of whatever that was.
“That’s it, man. Ivy can wade back.”
“How ‘bout I drop her at the dock. She probably wants to change into dry clothes. Where are you heading next?”
Scott clears his throat and I squint toward the beach, noting a barely perceptible shake of his head ‘no.’
I ignore him, adding, “I’ll bring her over to y’all.”
Scott sighs into the phone. “Meet us over by the amphitheater. Axl set the trailers up over there.”
“Got it.” With that, I disconnect and face Ivy.
“Let me guess—they wanted me to wade back?” She wrinkles up her cute button nose, tiny laugh lines crinkling the fine skin around her eyes. My fingers itch to touch her skin, sure it will be silky smooth.
“Something like that. Don’t worry—I took care of it.” I fire up the boat and reverse away from the crowd, heading back out into the open water. The sun’s high in the sky now and it’s another scorcher, the heat index pushing ninety.
Picking up speed, water crests around us in white, frothy waves. I glance behind me, and notice Ivy relaxing against the white seat cushion, her knees pulled to her chest, the skirt whipping in the wind. The motor’s loud, so conversation’s out. She seems content to sit back and enjoy the ride.
Eventually, we close in on the dock and I slow to a crawl. Ivy smooths her hair down, running her fingers through her tousled waves.
I’d love to have her lying on my chest, her chestnut hair tickling my skin as she presses up against me.
Get it together, Mads. You barely even know the woman.
We dock, and I help her out of the boat. She wrings her skirt one more time, leaving a puddle on the wood.
“Sorry about that.” She glances down at the water.
“It’s fine. That’s what docks are for. C’mon, I’ll take you over to the inn to change into dry clothes, then drop you back on set.”
Ivy trails behind me over to the golf cart and slides in next to me, our legs brushing. A hot jolt of electricity zings up my thigh, straight to my dick, and I pray she’s taking in the scenery instead of the increasing bulge in my pants.
“Here we are.” I ease up the drive, parking the golf cart. “I’ll wait for you. Take your time.”
