Page 68 of Pucking Obsessed

The windacross the lake nips my cheeks. It catches my hair, blowing it over my face.

I squint up at the bright sun in the blue sky.

The air is fresh and sharp. It reminds me of all the times that I’d come out boating with Dad as a kid.

It would rarely be on his yacht, however, which was for entertaining guests or hosting events.

Dad would take me fishing at dawn.

It would be quiet and somehow, sacrosanct.

Together, we’d sail or row a small boat out to one of his favorite spots and then sit together close to nature.

Sometimes, Dad sailed me out simply to birdwatch. We’d check off the ones that we spotted.

Afterward, back in the house, I’d share my successes with Cody.

Cody would pretend that he wasn’t trapped inside for the summer. But I knew how much it hurt my brother that Dad never taught him about wildlife or taught him to fish.

In fact, he never taught Cody anything, as soon as it became clear that he hadn’t inherited his genius on the ice.

Yet it hurt Cody the most that he was excluded from the world on the lake.

I sprawl out on an arctic blue lounger.

Loungers and couches are ranked on the bottom decking.

I stare over the churned up trail that the yacht is leaving in its wake. It looks like Dad is carving his own waves into the still lake through the force of his will alone.

On the lakeside stands a private boat launch. A long pier disappears into the center of the water.

Jagged mountains loom in the distance.

I grimace, wriggling around.

Sneakily, I edge my thong out of my butt crack.

Classy.

No one noticed, right?

Damn D’Angelo. If he hadn’t opened that drawer, then I wouldn’t have to wear a comedy thong. How else was I going to stop him from poking around and discovering the hidden rings?

That’s twice now that my romantic gift giving moment has been ruined.

D’Angelo is too good at finding things. Maybe it’s because he needs such a high level of control over everything that he knows where things are at all times.

Scary.

My guys are too smart.

I could tell that Shay knew I was hiding something. He probably thinks that it’s a new sex toy.

Most likely an intimidating monster dildo.

I smirk.

I have a tentacle one. Perhaps, I should throw Shay off the scent by buying a demon tongue dildo…?

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