Garrison lathers a cloth with my body wash and cocks a brow as I lift my arms in a silent demand. His deep chuckle ripples over my skin.
He looks so human right now that I nearly forgot who he is back home. The job he has and the actions that led to his stay in Cherry Peak. But in all honesty, I don’t care about any of that. I haven’t in a long time now.
He’s my Garrison Beckett, and I love every side of him. The rude and sweet, cutthroat and thoughtful. It isn’t a surprising revelation. I’ve been falling for him for weeks now. Maybe from the moment I scared him and made him drop his phone in a mud puddle.
Resting my palm against his sternum, I blink water from my lashes and lift my eyes to his. He’s already watching me, his features soft. The cloth moves from the underside of my jaw to my shoulders and collarbones before swerving left to my bicep and armpit. With soft strokes, he continues washing me, the water cascading over the both of us.
The soft cloth glides tenderly over my chest, down my belly, and between my legs. There’s a silent promise as he washes me. One of protection and care that strikes deep. He’s doing more than simply cleaning me off. The boundaries between us are stripped away with each swipe, leaving only a raw vulnerability behind that speaks louder than any words.
I curl my hand around the back of his head and pull him down as I lean up on my toes and kiss him. It’s a soft caress of our lips, and it’s everything.
The cloth falls to the shower floor with a plop, and then he’s wrapping an arm around my back and tugging me close, our naked bodies smushed together as the water rains down on us. I grin against his mouth. He laughs into mine.
We’re happy.
“Tell me what your biggest dreams are,” I demand, dragging my arm through the turquoise water around us.
Our bungalow is behind us, and we’re only in shoulder-height water, but Garrison hasn’t let me move from my monkey-like wrap around his body since I climbed up here minutes ago. The water was cold at first, but it’s a nice cold. The kind that takes the sting from the sun away without turning your lips blue. I could stay right here for hours, and with my stomach still full from our massive steak dinner, I don’t see that changing anytime soon.
Garrison tightens his possessive hold on my ass and readjusts me higher up his body. I’d blame the thong bikini I’m wearing for his greedy hands if I didn’t know better. I could be wearing a garbage bag and he’d still be pawing at me like I’m the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.
“I want to make Swift Edge the number one record label in the world,” he says. “I want everyone who is anyone in the music world to want to sign with us. To know who we are and seek us out, no matter where they are in the world.”
“You want to expand globally?”
“I’ve been stuck in Toronto from the beginning, and whenever I’m somewhere else, whether that be in Calgary or Nashville, it’s an entirely different experience. I crave the feeling that comes with building something from the ground up. The high of knowing I’ve created something out of nothing. I want to do it more. Being active on a global scale interests me heavily.”
“I know the feeling. It’s addicting.”
“Do you want to expand Beautifully Bold? Bring it to other cities?”
“I do. It may never happen, but I’ve dreamed about it. I know what my studio is capable of. What it’s helped inspire in others. It would be incredible to bring that to more people. Cherry Peak is so small . . . I know I’m meant for bigger things.”
“You are, honey. The world is at your fingertips if you ever decide you want to grab it.”
I flash him a goofy grin. “Enough of that heavy stuff. I want to know what your fears are now.”
“Sharks, snakes, and spiders,” he answers, scrunching his nose. “Skydiving too.”
I swallow a giggle. “So, just anything that starts with an S, then?”
“I don’t mind squirrels.”
“Wow, great. That’s a relief,” I tease, lacing my fingers behind his neck. “You know, this is the first time I’ve been taller than you. Well, other than when I had you kneeling in front of me.”
He scowls playfully. “You enjoyed that a bit too much, I think.”
“Oh, no doubt about it,” I admit with a wink.
“What are your fears? I think we need to even the playing field a little here.”
I cluck my tongue, thinking. “I’m terrified of blood. And cotton swabs.”
“Cotton swabs?” He rolls his lips, his cheeks puffing out as if he’s trying not to laugh.
“Don’t laugh at me! Have you ever gotten the little cotton tip part stuck in your ear before? I have, and it was an incredibly terrifying experience having it pulled out in the doctor’s office.”
Tipping his head forward to rest on my shoulder, he hides his laugh in my skin. “How old were you?”