Page 47 of Wright Kind of Trouble

May

I pushed myself past the breaking point.

Swam as hard and fast as I could to the small square deck a hundred yards from the shore and then back. I’d made the trek enough times that even Bowie had given up. I’d wiped out my own golden retriever. He was currently sunbathing on the shore with his tongue lolling out from exhaustion.

I was exhausted, too.

I didn’t want to take another stroke. But I couldn’t stop. Because stopping meant thinking. Stopping meant feeling. Stopping meant I’d have to deal with all the shit that had just been unceremoniously dumped on me.

With a grunt, I pulled myself up onto the deck, panting, my arms like jelly. One more lap. I could do one more. That would be enough.

Then, I heard the sound of car tires on the dirt road that led down to my favorite lake side spot. Bowie jumped to his feet and barked at the Kia that came into view. My stomach flipped at the sight of the little car. And then the blonde who stepped out of the driver’s side.

Bowie went off like a flash, jumping on Harley and nearly knocking her to the ground. He was sopping wet, and even from here, I could see Harley laughing and shaking the water off of her black shorts and tank top.

I dived back into the water and began the trek back toward the shoreline. She put her hand on her forehead when she heard the splash and watched me cut through the water. I was at half the speed that I’d started, but truly, it was a miracle I was still going.

When I stepped out of the lake, waterlogged and drained, she was already moving toward me, a smile on her face.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey,” I said. I felt like my legs were going to give out as I came up the shoreline.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Since I called you.”

She frowned. “That was, like, an hour ago.”

“I know.”

Her disapproval deepened. “Maybe you should sit down.”

I reached for a towel, drying the water off of my skin before sinking onto the blanket I’d left out for Bowie. Harley dropped down next to me, and Bowie followed, getting up in her face.

She laughed and shook her head. “Still as well behaved as normal.”

“I gave up on training,” I told her.

“I can see that.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“I’m glad I was still in town. I leave tomorrow. Though, on the phone, you didn’t exactly say what was going on.”

A week ago, she’d walked back into my life to help me with my parents’ divorce. And I’d certainly thought that was the worst of what was going to happen before she left for Seattle. I hadn’t anticipated what had gone down today.

“I know. I’m not sure I wanted to say it out loud,” I admitted.

Her eyebrows rose. “That sounds serious.”

My eyes traveled down her body. Her feet crossed at the ankles in her signature Docs. Her long, pale legs leading up into the tiny little black jean shorts. Her head tipped back into the sun, and the column of her neck was practically begging me to kiss it.

This was what I wanted. This would help me forget what I’d just heard.

I closed my eyes and looked away from Harley. That wouldn’t be fair to her. Not in any world. I might want to roll over and bury my cock in her until we both forgot everything else existed, but that didn’t mean it was smart. In fact, it was a terrible fucking idea.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” she said.

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