Page 26 of Never Yours

“Have I told you how much I love when you scream my name?” My eyes narrow, my lips pursed. “I’ll buy you new ones.” He then grips the front of my dress and pulls me onto him. “So much easier for me to taste you when you’re not wearing them.”

“I’ll admit, that’s a good line, but… please wait until after a shower?” I stand again and pull his flannel shirt tighter around me.

Caleb looks off to where the sun is dangerously close to the mountain. “It’ll have to wait, we have about twenty minutes to get back to the dock.”

He stands and pulls up his boxer briefs and shorts, fastening them. Without a word, he takes my hand and practically drags me back to the steering wheel and sits me in his seat, while he raises the anchor. With each pull, the muscles in his arms and back flex, his shirt straining to contain them. Once it’s up, he grabs a large pole and fishes my swimsuit bottoms from the water and tosses it onto the boat. He looks back at me, accepting his small defeat—I should’ve known that he never would’ve left them there.

Stepping behind me, he starts the engine and shifts the gear, then places my hands on the wheel. “I’m not driving this thing, Cay.”

After a moment of me steering us around the bend and into view of the dock, he kisses my neck and whispers, “Yes, you are. I’ll help you when we get closer, but you’ve got this.” I keep my hands firmly planted at ten and two, feeling like a teenager about to fail her driving test. “Keep it steady, I’m going to increase the speed.” He shifts the gear again then places his hand on my thigh. “Just like that.”

Caleb slides his hand under my dress and up my thigh, but I clench my legs together. “Really? I’m going to crash your boat, and we’ll become fish food.”

“I’d never let you crash,” he chuckles, moving his hand lower and pulls his hand from my dress. Keeping it on top of the fabric, he splays his hand on my stomach. “I’ve always been yours, Ingrid. You have to tell me if something is too much or not enough. It’ll never change how I feel about you if you tell me to stop.”

A few moments pass and he slows down the boat. “Are you going to take over? I don’t know how to properly pull into the dock.”

“You don’t need me to do it. I’ll walk you through it.” His voice is steady, reassuring, even if I’m ninety percent sure I’m going to ram the dock with his boat and have to file a really weird insurance claim.

Hi, yes, my crush from high school was trying to seduce me while I parked this party boat. Is that covered as an “at-fault” accident or…?

Caleb slows the boat to a stop, then pulls out what looks like giant inflatables and attaches them to the sides. He looks up and explains. “I’m putting bumpers up.”

“Is this like bowling? You’re putting up the little rails for the little five-year-olds to make sure I don’t gutter-ball?”

He lets out a full laugh and opens two of the doors of the boat, then makes his way back to me. “Yeah, basically.” He steps behind me again, and instead of maintaining a steady speed, he’s doing little bumpy bumps on the gear shift. “We’re going to glide in at a thirty degree angle. When we get close, turn the wheel all the way toward the dock. It’s going to swing the boat where we want it. Then when we’re about ten feet out, you’re going to turn it all the way to the left, since that’s where we’re docking.”

“What the fuck, Cay? I don’t know what any of that means!”

“I’m right here, I won’t let you crash.”

He walks me through the steps again, then once we are right up to the dock, he hops out and helps to guide the boat into what’s essentially a parking spot for his boat. Grabbing the rope from the boat, he ties it to one of the dock anchors, but a wave pulls the back of the boat away from the dock.

“Cay!” I check, and he’s already turned off the motor, so I’m not sure what to do.

Caleb hops into the boat and rushes to me, taking me in his arms. “You did so good. It’s ok.” His arms are freezing, so I begin taking off his flannel, but he stops me and growls, “Absolutely not.”

“You’re cold, and?—”

“I’m going to tie off the boat, stay here.” He kisses my temple and releases me to finish with the boat. He starts the motor for a moment, steers the wheel, and the boat becomes flush with the dock. Once everything is shut down, he hops out again and ties the back of the boat to the dock. “All right, princess, let’s get you home.”

caleb

. . .

I’ve spent the past four days feeling like I’m living in some sort of dream sequence. With the clock ticking, every moment I’m not working or helping Pop, I’m spending time with Ingrid or taking her out for proper dates—and improper dates. Each night, we’re either at her place or mine, as it always should’ve been.

Sitting at the bar, waiting for me to finish work, she gasps, “Cay, I’ve made the shortlist!”

I finish pouring a pint for Tim and rush over to her. “Shortlist for what?”

“A Silver Globe.” She looks up from her phone. “I might get nominated this year for ‘Writing—Comedy Series.’”

Immediately, a smile splits my face. “No, you’re not just going to be nominated, you’re going to fucking win it, princess.” Her eyes narrow at the name that I can’t seem to stop using. “You know I’ll buy you the biggest fucking tiara for the ceremony.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I haven’t even been nominated, yet,” she laughs, but it ceases quickly. There’s too much publicity around her at the moment. I try my best to ignore the news articles, but some of it is unavoidable when the notifications hit my phone. Yesterday, she had to get a new number because her phone wouldn’t stop ringing with media inquiries. Her agent seems to be fucking worthless. A few ruthless reporters even came to town, but Ashlyn and the rest of the sheriff’s department have helped ensure that people who don’t belong here stay far away from my girl.

I round the bar and swivel Ingrid in her seat. “You’re going to be nominated, and you’re going to win.” Cupping her neck, I kiss her forehead, and she leans into my touch—which I’m finding that I both love and hate. I only have two weeks with her before I leave, and each time I kiss her is one closer to being our last.

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