Стейси Кестуик - Wet

“I hate that I missed one of our last nights together for a while. I saw Wyatt when I went by the house to grab some gear. He said you stopped by the Wreck? And you had dressed up?”

I nodded once.

“Did you take a picture?” he asked hopefully, tipping my chin up so he could see me better.

“Nope.”

He deflated, and a twinge of conscience hit me.

Studying him closer, I saw the bags under his eyes. And he smelled like motor oil. He didn’t look like a guy who’d been out partying and having a good time without me last night.

“Right.” He nodded. “I deserve that. I just wanted to apologize in person before I left. I’ll miss you. I’ll try to do a better job texting while I’m gone, okay?”

I licked my lips, hating that I cared so much, hating the power he had over my mood.

Taking the flowers from me and setting them down on the doormat, he wrapped his big arms around me, tugging me into his embrace. I stood stiffly at first, but my body responded to his heat, melting into it, softening. When he nudged my face up for a kiss, I didn’t resist.

His lips were soft, gentle. The kiss was undemanding and slow, a promise of what was to come. I slid my arms around his back and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer. My lips opened and his tongue swept inside, tangling with mine, but not trying to dominate.

He tasted like coffee. As our lips slanted together, he cupped my face, and I lifted up on my tiptoes to keep the connection. Finally breaking apart, he rained kisses over my nose, cheeks, and forehead.

“I gotta go. I won’t make it to Charleston in time if I don’t leave now.”

The words clawed at the back of my throat. I wanted to tell him how I felt but not like this. Swallowing them back, I bit my lip hard. I couldn’t say them. Not until I knew he felt it too.

“Good luck.” My voice was rough.

“See you Saturday night. I promise. No excuses.”

Brushing one last kiss over my forehead, he turned toward the road. I hadn’t even noticed the big dually sitting there, his huge boat hooked behind it.

The first rays of dawn cracked the morning sky as he drove away. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted to cry as he disappeared.

He kept his word. Texts and pictures pinged my phone at regular intervals on Thursday and Friday, helping the time pass faster. We flirted, we teased, we mocked each other. We swapped goofy selfies. On Saturday, I couldn’t wait any longer to see him. I hatched a scheme to meet him at the marina when he docked, planning on surprising him.

The only problem was, I wasn’t exactly sure when he was going to be back. I knew the tournament ended at one, but the marina he had a slip at was a little farther away, and I didn’t know how long it would take in between. I’d tried texting a few times, but he’d been pretty quiet today. He had sent me a “Good morning” text hours before my alarm went off. As I munched on cereal, I received a message saying he wouldn’t be around much and that he was going to be pretty busy.

I’d sent a few more and hadn’t heard back. But that was okay. At least he was doing a better job communicating.

Feet propped on the chair across from me, I was sitting at the marina café on the edge of the shore, the rows of docks spread out before me. I knew what his boat looked like, so I scanned the water every couple minutes while I played around on my phone. My last text to West had finally gotten a reply four minutes ago.

West: Almost done. Got a few more things to finish doing, and then I’m headed your way.

I sent back a smiley face and ordered a bottle of water from the waiter. I got tired of Pinterest after a while and switched over to Facebook. Rue had some new shots up from her trip to St. Augustine. Hailey and Cody were making fish lips in a selfie. My brother was giving a side hug to a redhead I didn’t recognize. Pausing on that picture, I sent him a private message, asking who the girl was. Aubrey had commented on a photo Wyatt had posted of General Beauregard, and I couldn’t help but click on her name.

I snorted at the photos she had posted just from today. A view over the water. A selfie of her wearing a plunging bikini top. Her patriotic pedicure. Did she think anyone cared what her toes looked like?

Opening the picture up, I saw it had thirty-two likes and eight comments. Okay, maybe people did care what her toes looked like.

Glancing up again, I saw West’s boat pulling in at one of the far slips. He threw a line to an employee and cut the engines as the boat drew up snug to the dock.

A huge smile spread across my face. His expression was hidden under the brim of the baseball hat he had pulled low on his forehead, but just seeing his muscles rippling in the sun was enough to have me rubbing my thighs together in anticipation. I couldn’t wait for him to realize I was here waiting for him.

As I packed away my phone and my bottle of water into my bag, a familiar voice drifted across the salt air.

I froze.

No.

It couldn’t be.

My eyes had to be playing tricks on me. I lowered my sunglasses to be sure.

West was walking down the dock, carrying a laughing, bikini-clad Aubrey in his arms like a baby, her arms thrown around his bare shoulders. I recognized that bikini. It was the same one from the picture. She reached up and snagged the hat off his head, settling it onto her own. They walked right by me, neither one of them glancing over.

His definition of a few things to finish doing apparently wasn’t the same as mine at all.

I flashed back to Nashville. To Asshole.

Déjà vu washed over me.

Not again.

Want to know what happens next? Look for Soaked , coming soon.

Having hope was her weakness.

If Sadie Mullins hadn’t started to believe in love again, hadn’t let herself fall for him,

she wouldn’t be feeling this way.

Wouldn’t have her heart breaking.

Wouldn’t regret meeting West Montgomery

The cocky bastard should have left her alone, let her forget about him.

Let her move on with her life.

Of course, he didn’t.

That could have been the end of it.

Of course, it wasn’t.

Damn hope.

I’m a Southern girl who firmly believes mornings should be outlawed. My perfect day would include lounging on a hammock with a good book, carbohydrates, and the people around me randomly breaking into choreographed song and dance routines. It would not include bacon, cleaning, or anything requiring patience.

Come visit me! We can hang out and talk about cupcakes and books, not necessarily in that order.

For more information: https://facebook.com/StacyKestwickAuthor

www.StacyKestwick.com

First of all, if you made it this far, I want to thank you, the reader, for taking a chance on a new author. I went into this whole writing-a-book adventure not knowing if we’d ever find each other. Not knowing if anyone would ever see these words. The gift of your time spent with my characters means the world to me.

Julia, you poor girl. You’ve heard more about West and Sadie than anybody, and you never doubted for a minute that I could write their story – hell, that I could write a story at all. Thank you for being so unbelievably patient as I navigated this crazy path to publishing. This one’s for you.

Emily Snow, thank you for answering an email from a nutty fan. And for working together and asking to see my words and for then believing in those words. And then helping me figure out how to go from having a written story to a published book. You advice has been invaluable.