Page 25 of Windlass

She worried her lip between her teeth. The worst part was how badly she wanted Stevie to snap, finally, and say the things she knew had been piling up behind Stevie’s blue eyes for over three years. The thought sent simultaneous bolts of pain and desire through her, and she tightened her grip on Stevie’s arm.

“I haven’t texted her,” she said, answering the question Stevie had asked while she turned over the questions she hadn’t asked, chiefly among them,Why her, and why not me?

“Good.” A pause. “Has she texted you?”

“I’ve been deleting them unread.”

Stevie did look up at her, now, those turquoise eyes bright with something terribly like hope.

“Hey,” Emilia called from a few yards ahead. “Check it out.”

Angie followed Emilia’s arm out to sea, where a massive sailing vessel churned up a visible wake against the dying light, its white sails bellying with wind. Exchanging one last glance, they broke into a jog and caught up with Morgan and Emilia.

“What kind of boat is that?” Angie asked.

“I’m not sure,” said Emilia. “A tall ship of some sort, but I can’t tell all the different makes apart from this distance. She’s gorgeous, though.”

“She is,” said Morgan, and Angie thought that if Morgan was looking at Emilia when she said it like some idiotic character in a romance she would throw sand in their faces, but Morgan stared at the ship with the same fascination as her girlfriend. Angie elbowed Stevie and rolled her eyes at the couple.

“There’s a raised mast joke in there somewhere,” Stevie whispered in her ear, “because they both have a hard-on for boats, and Idonotget it.”

Angie wondered if Stevie felt the shiver ripple through her body as Stevie’s breath heated her through and through.

“It’s supposed to warm up again this weekend,” Stevie continued, unaware that Angie’s mind was leading her into dangerous territory. “Morgan said she’d take us out on her boat if you wanna go. That is, if you can stand how annoyingly attractive she is near water. Ugh. Look at her. It’s gross.”

Morgan’s attention was still taken up by the tall ship. The wind ruffled her curls, and Angie, who was not blind even if she wasn’t interested in Morgan in that way, had to admit she looked in her element. More importantly, she looked happy.

“Eh, she’s okay, I guess.”

Morgan had told her to think about what she was doing with Stevie. The trouble was she didn’t want to think. Thinking got herintotrouble. For Stevie, though, she’d try, because Stevie deserved the chance to look as happy as Morgan did right now with Emilia beside her.

She would not get that chance if Angie dragged her into one of her toxic cycles. Hating herself, she withdrew her arm from Stevie’s and bent down to examine a shell, as if anything else could possibly interest her when her ear still tingled with the suggestion of Stevie’s lips.

Chapter Five

Most unfortunately for Angie’s resolve, the forecast hadn’t lied. The weekend rolled in with a heatwave, which did not bode well for the summer, but did bode well for boating plans. Morgan’s boat fit the six of them comfortably, though the word “cozy” also applied. Angie had initially been disappointed that Stormy hadn’t joined them, as she was deathly afraid of boats, but as Morgan ushered them onto the deck she supposed another body would have made things tight.

She took no time stripping down to her suit. Shedding her sticky clothes brought the first relief she’d felt in . . . well, she supposed it hadn’t been hot for all that long, but heat had a way of making time tacky, unspooling it so that each hot, slow moment felt like a year. A breeze stirred the fine hairs on her body, and she leaned back against the bow letting the white hull burn her back. It hurt and she savored the sensation, feeling the pain subside into a dull, tingling frustration that both satisfied and left her vaguely empty.

“Sunscreen?” Emilia asked the group. “Angie, you definitely need it.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re wearing floss.”

This wasn’t entirely fair; her suit covered nearly half of her ass, and her breasts were modestly tucked into the bikini top, even if the coverage was more New York City real estate than Maine. Women’s swimsuits didn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination. Besides, Emilia’s top wasn’t much better; Morgan was going to crash the boat if she didn’t stop staring. Ivy still wore a white sun cover, but the green—of course it was green—suit beneath, while technically a one-piece, could have come from the other half of the cloth that had made Angie’s. Suits were notsupposedto cover you.

Unless, of course, you were Stevie. Angie shaded her eyes to better see Stevie, who sat on the other side of the boat watching the moorings pass as Morgan piloted through the small harbor. Being Stevie, she sported flip-flops, board shorts, and a tank top over what might have been a swimsuit, but no one would ever know, because Stevie would never take it off.

“Fine.” She sat up. Stevie did not stare at her the way Morgan gazed at Emilia. Instead, she kept watching the boats. Which was good. Of course it was good. She hadn’t worn her skimpiest bathing suit for Stevie’s viewing pleasure. That would be ridiculous, considering she’d decided not to tease her.

Shame spilled over her with the sunlight.Hadshe worn this suit to tease Stevie? She wished she’d worn a cover-up instead of shorts. The idea of putting her jean shorts back on, damp with sweat and stiff compared to the freedom of movement given by her suit, was miserable, but she considered it.

You’re such a fucking slut, she told herself, feeling the heat from the sun gather in her cheeks.

“Do you need help putting it on?” said Emilia.

Angie felt more than saw Stevie tense, even though she remained the picture of calm, sunglasses covering her eyes.Yes, she longed to say.Yes I do, and I want Stevie to do it.Morgan was here, however, and Angie knew what she would have to say about that later.

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