Just This Once (The Kings)

For a thirty-one-year-old man with his shit mostly together, I was sweating like a teenager in the awkward throes of puberty. I hadn’t been to Trawler’s Cove since I was trying to get my first glance at a pair of boobs, but it was secluded and close enough to the marina that Emily and I wouldn’t get caught.

The cove was south of the main marina. There was a small beach surrounded by the towering sand dunes, but the cove itself was known for its rocky outcropping.noveldrama

It was secluded.

Quiet.

I listened to the waves crash against the shore and glanced at my watch. 6:57. My hand tapped a rhythm against my thigh as I waited—hoped—for Emily to show.

Low giggling caught my attention as a group of four high school-aged kids lumbered over the rocky edge of the cove’s north wall. Two boys helped two girls climb down the edge as they doggedly ogled their dates.

Once they hit the sand, I cleared my throat.

“Oh shit,” one kid remarked, his eyes growing wider. “Hey, uh . . .” He looked around at his buddy for help.

I crossed my arms and tipped my head. “Beat it.”

One of the girls pulled at his arm and looked at me warily as she whispered, “Come on. We can find somewhere else.”

I knew I was being a prick—laying claim to a teenage hangout known for canoodling—but I needed the privacy. I stayed rooted to my spot.

The other boy shook his head. “Yeah, man. Let’s go up that way.” He pointed to a strip of beach farther up the coastline.

Satisfied, I watched them disappear around the far corner of the cove and exhaled a sigh of relief.

“I didn’t realize you were such a curmudgeon.” Emily’s soft voice floated over my shoulder, and I turned.

My face split into a smile. Emily was dressed in white low-top sneakers with a silver star on the side. Her denim shorts were lightly frayed at the hem and the distressing cut high on her thigh. It was only the beginning of summer, but her skin already held a slight tan. I wanted to run my hands up her thighs and see if they felt as soft as they looked. Her simple V-neck T-shirt was tucked into the front of her jean shorts, and she’d topped it with a soft, oversize cardigan because of course she did.

Somehow Emily made casual look effortlessly sexy.

I offered her my hand as she navigated the uneven rocks. “Glad you could make it, Prim.”

“You’re lucky I did.” Emily’s feet landed on the sand with a soft thud. “I had to ask around to figure out what Trawler’s Cove was, and it sounds awfully murdery if you ask me.”

“Why do you always think I’m trying to kill you?” I teased, remembering a similar comment she made about the dark road that leads to my house on the night we met.

She shrugged, and the carefree movement was a punch to my gut. “A girl can’t be too safe, I guess.”

I held out my hand. “You’re safe with me.”

Her hand paused above mine, as if she was still trying to decide how true my statement was. Finally, her delicate hand rested in mine.

“I wanted somewhere quiet where we could hang out without curious eyes.” I lifted her hand to my lips.

Her cheeks flooded with the prettiest shade of rose before she smiled and turned to look at our surroundings. Behind us, the cove secluded us from nearby hikers and beachgoers walking atop the dunes, and Lake Michigan stretched out as far as the eye could see in the opposite direction.

“I like it here.” She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “Feels like you could really breathe in a place like this.”

I stepped behind her and wrapped my arms around her. It felt good—too good—to be able to capture her in my embrace without looking over my shoulder. A defiant part of me wanted to demand we go public—fuck anyone who didn’t accept that we were together—but it was way too soon to be thinking like that. We had agreed to sleeping together and nothing more.

The canoe I had tied to a rock along the shore bobbed in the water.

“You ready?” I asked.

Her eyes went wide, and she looked at me over her shoulder. “Ready? I thought this was it.”

I squeezed her once before releasing her. “Nope. I’ve got plans.” I held out my hand, and she took it without hesitation this time. “Let’s go.”

I pulled her toward the canoe. It was sleek and hunter green. The seats were gleaming oak, stained a warm brown and polished until they shone. My supplies were neatly tucked under each seat. I reached in and grabbed a life vest for her. “Put this on.”

She eyed the vest. “Where are we going?”

I smiled and slipped on my own vest before buckling it closed. “Just wanted to show you something.”

Her eyes narrowed at me. “Hmm. Okay . . .”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Just get in the damn boat, Prim.”

With a laugh, Emily braced the sides of the canoe and carefully got in. I pointed to her seat, and she settled in toward the front. After untying the boat, I moved us deeper into the water before climbing in.

Using the oars, I rowed us around Trawler’s Cove. The summer sun hung low in the sky, holding promises of longer days and warmer nights. Splashes of tangerine and golden yellow glittered off the water.

“The water is so clear. It’s unbelievable. And the sand dunes are massive.”

I nodded, loving the affection and awe laced in her voice. There was something about Emily appreciating the place I grew up in that twisted up my insides. “There really is no place else like it.”

After touring the cove, I moored the canoe along a desolate stretch of sandy beach beyond where the teenagers had gone, only accessible by boat. Nerves scurried through me like the mitten crabs dancing along the shoreline.

“Hungry?” I asked.

She batted her lashes and my stomach swooped. “Always.”

I laughed and hauled up a small blanket and basket from beneath my seat. “That’s my girl.”

I handed Emily the blanket and basket, then unloaded the compact bundle of firewood and a small foldable shovel from the bottom of the canoe. We walked to a clearing of sand, and I gestured with my chin. “Can you set that up?”

Wordlessly, Emily opened the blanket, arranging it on the soft sand and placing the basket at the center. Using the camping shovel, I dug a circular hole to block the wind. Inside the circle, I stacked a bit of kindling in the center before neatly arranging the logs. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a lighter, igniting the kindling. I leaned forward and blew into the growing fire.

I caught Emily watching me as I turned. “What?”

Her grin widened. “Nothing.”

Once settled onto the blanket, I flipped open the top of the picnic basket. Emily sat on her knees at the corner and peered into the basket. I pulled out a half loaf of crusty french bread, two Royal Riviera pears, prosciutto wrapped in parchment, and a hunk of cheese.

She sat back on her heels, her palms resting on the tops of her smooth thighs, and sighed. “You are full of surprises.”

“How so?” Finally, I pulled out a demi bottle of sparkling wine and two stemless wineglasses.

“I thought you were taking me to Trawler’s Cove to make out with me.” Her blue-green eyes sparkled in the fading sunlight.

My eyebrow arched, and a devilish grin spread across my face. “Do you want me to make out with you?” I moved my eyebrows up and down and stalked toward her on all fours.

Emily snatched the crust of bread and tossed it at me with a playful squeal.

I crowded her space. The fresh, floral scent of her perfume surrounded me. Overwhelmed me. I pressed my lips to hers. She sighed into the kiss, opening for me without hesitation.

I wanted to drown in her.

My cock thickened, and my blood surged with the urge to pin her to the sand and take. How is it that I was so attracted to the one woman I couldn’t have?

Determined to do this thing right while it lasted, I stopped myself, but not before giving her lush lower lip one last nip of my teeth.

Emily grinned as I went back to organizing our impromptu picnic. She looked around, her gaze landing on the crackling fire, and sighed. “This is . . . really lovely.”

Emily’s glance lingered as I searched for the right thing to say. “You deserve the world.” My words were soft, but I meant every one.

Emily smiled softly and hummed a curious sound.

“What?” I asked.

“You’ve been hanging out with my dad too much.” When I stilled at the mention of her father, Emily continued, but her attention was on her hands. “I had a messy breakup a while ago. It was . . . not ideal. Craig was someone I had uprooted my entire life for. A new job. A new city. For a few years it was all going according to my perfectly thought-out plan.” She let out a humorless laugh. “It didn’t work out. Then I came to Outtatowner, and I wanted a fresh start, but a lot of it just felt like going through the motions. Dad saw right through me, sat me down, and said, Melly, you can’t go through life like it’s a checklist. You’ll need to feel your way through if you want the life you deserve.”

Her deepened voice and impression of the chief was adorably spot on, and his words were a blow to my chest.

Her soft eyes lifted to mine, and she shrugged. “Sometimes checklists are easier.”

I swallowed hard. “Your parents are good people. You’re lucky to have them.”

“What about yours?” In the firelight, her eyes held a quiet curiosity. “My mom mentioned your mother is out of the picture, but your dad . . .”

My lips pressed together, and I shook my head sharply. “My family isn’t like yours. We don’t have heart-to-hearts and loving conversations. My mom disappeared when I was seven. Dad said she packed her shit and never looked back.”

“Oh my god . . .” Her whisper was drowned out by the waves rolling onto the shoreline.

I didn’t want her pity, so I pressed on, opening myself up in a way that was painful but in the quiet firelight felt somehow necessary. “My father is a hard man. His respect is earned. I’m thirty-one and not sure I’ve quite gotten there yet.”

“How do you earn it?” Her question was sincere and lacked any of the judgment I had expected.

“Doing what he asks without question or hesitation.” I lifted a shoulder. “Perfect example is your mother.”

Her brows scrunched as she sat up. “My mom?”

I nodded. “She’s part of the Remington County Historical Association, and they’re trying to declare a building that my father wants to purchase as a historical building. He wants me to try to talk her out of it. Dad saw my relationship with the chief as an in. It’s his specialty—angling for the win.”

For heavy moments Emily watched the flames dance. “You could, though”—she shrugged—“talk to her if you think it’s the right thing to do.”

I tossed a stick to the side, knowing that had never been an option. “What my father wants is rarely the right thing.”

Her eyes searched mine, and I stretched my legs in front of me.

“So what are you going to do?” she finally asked.

I looked at the gorgeous woman across from me, her features illuminated by the golden firelight. “I’m going to not worry about it. He’s managed the King enterprise without me for this long.”

What I left unspoken was the fact that Chief Martin and his wife had shown me more love than either of my parents ever had. They had come to mean more to me than my own blood.

As she sat across from me, the mood slowly lifted as a sense of casual comfort settled over us and we listened to the waves roll in. We laughed over bites of Mimolette and pear, and it was then that one hard truth dawned on me and filled my gut with dread.

Emily Ward was bruising heartache wrapped in a tidy, stubborn little package. There wasn’t a world in which I would ever be good enough to deserve her, but for the first time in my life, the prospect of being left behind was unbearable.