Page 47 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

“What she wants is for me to never get any.”

I slid a look to Noah, whose expression revealed nothing.

“Too late,” I said cheerfully before I left the room. And the entire cabin. I’d had enough of family time.

Although they weren’t actually related. Whatever. I needed space.

If I was a better man, I would’ve stayed and made nicey-nice. But I wasn’t one. I was the guy who’d ignored Daisy for half a year and then taken her virginity within a day of spending time with her.

Oh, look, self-recrimination right on cue.

I picked my way over the rocky ground out back that led down to the lake, the biggest selling feature of this place—if it had any. My paddle boat was tied up at the dock, rocking gently in the fading light of dusk. This whole day had alternatively dragged and sped by. Now it was nighttime and my already small cabin would contain not only Daisy, but a humorless man standing guard.

For what, was my question.

Seemed a tad excessive for a minor league hold-up. Not that it was minor league in my head. The intruder hurting Daisy was a great addition to the range of nightmare images I’d already collected. But it wasn’t the level of thing that should require an armed guard.

I wasn’t exactly a lightweight when it came to kicking ass. I could protect Daisy. I would with my fucking life if I had to.

Besides, this was just a random event. What else could it be? The police would find him and that would be that.

Instead of dragging out a chair from the storage shed, I went to sit in my boat. On the side, it had a shamrock for my sister and was about as rundown as the cabin itself. I didn’t take it out on the water, although I’d gone on many solo night trips—probably far more than wise,

despite this water being not all that deep. Still, shit could happen, especially when you were alone.

Except I wasn’t alone right now.

I still didn’t go out. I didn’t want Daisy to think I was sailing away from her, as dumb as that sounded. My phone was still inside so I couldn’t write anything, even if the murky sky going dark at the edges with twilight, stars just starting to twinkle, and gentle lap of the water against the boat was making my fingers twitchy to tap out some lyrics. I didn’t write all the time, but when I got the urge, I usually went on a spree until the need to expel whatever was in my head passed.

Right now? The need was huge.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, staring up at the sky, my fingers linked over my belly. There wasn’t much room to spread out, and I was a big guy, so no matter how much I shifted, I was always fighting off leg cramps. Maybe it was time to upgrade the boat. Maybe even go for a two-seater.

There was a road to perdition.

Loneliness fucked with your head. I knew that all too well. Despite my life with the band, I spent many hours alone, usually by choice. It had taken some years for me to get that having the wrong person in your bed was just as lonely as being by yourself.

Sometimes even worse.

Hours passed, perhaps even lifetimes while I sat in that boat. The sky changed, deepening, darkening, the colors changing with the onslaught of night. I trailed my fingers through the water and cursed. Fucking cold. So much for my fleeting idea of going skinny dipping.

Not if I wanted a working unit afterward.

I frowned, remembering something Daisy had said. She’d spied on me in the shower years ago? When? Why?

Well, I could probably fill in the why. Curiosity maybe. She must’ve had a lot if she’d held on to her virginity this long.

I still couldn’t wrap my head around that one. She was gorgeous and funny and smart and sweet. What asshole men hadn’t been good enough for her to get the job done?

But I was glad it was me. Even if it shouldn’t have been for half a dozen reasons.

“You know, you’ll get farther if you use oars instead of your fingers.”

Her voice shot through me like The Glenlivet had, streaking warmth in its wake. “Would get farther if the boat wasn’t tethered too.”

“Oh. Missed that.” She stepped closer and I took her in, wrapped in the giant comforter from my bed. Beneath, she wore thick socks that climbed up her calves and sandals. “Yes, I’m a fashion victim. Doing the best I can with what my sister provided.”

“She shouldn’t have bothered. I’m ridiculously turned on by you in wool, cotton, and Birkenstocks.”

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