Page 88 of South of The Skyway

“Ah man, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” He chuckled knowingly.

“No,” I admitted sheepishly. “I’m not. She wasn’t good enough for you.”

“You say that like I’ve earned anybody putting up with my ass indefinitely.”

“Only an idiot wouldn’t see what you have to offer.”

“Are you propositioning me?” he teased. That was good. He wasn’t too bent outta shape about it.

“You’ll have to take that up with Brexley.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be otherwise engaged.”

“Yeah,” I breathed, drifting off as I spotted her through the throngs of people.

“Oh man, you found her.”

“Hmm?”

His rumble of a laugh rattled the phone. “Go get her, man.”

“Yeah,” I breathed, eyes tracing up and down the lines of my girl. “Yeah, okay. We’ll talk later?”

“You got it.” The line dropped, and I slid my phone away.

The sight of Brexley Snows in a dress the color of Alaskan forget-me-nots, her blonde hair brushing the tight curve of her ass as she leaned onto the railing of the pier, was enough to make a man lose his mind. She’d invited me into the city to watch a spring festival consisting entirely of maritime merriment—her words, not mine.

“It’s exactly the kind of dopey small-town thing you love,” she explained. “They bring ships in from all over the world—some date back to the eighteen hundreds. Big white sails like pirate ships. You’ll love it.”

She was right. I did. After twenty years on the water, the history of the vessels was unbelievable. Although not nearly as surreal as the dainty dream leaning on the metal rail of the pier to watch them, balanced precariously on her tiptoes, one foot kicked in the air. I’d rather not think about the fact that every man around had a view of her perfect perky ass in that dress, so I focused instead on the fact that she was grinning as a ship sailed by. My heart did that thing where it suddenly developed two left feet, stumbling forward. They were as glorious as she’d said they would be. But she dwarfed them with her beauty tenfold.

Unable to keep the smile from my face, I caged her against the rail, setting a hand beside each of hers and pressing my hips to her ass. Suddenly, her position on the rail was totally excusable since she fit me better than a freaking glove. Brex whipped her face around, meeting my mouth as I lowered to take her in a kiss, threading my fingers into her hair a heartbeat later. I couldn’t pull her close enough. Couldn’t tighten my grip enough. Couldn’tget enough.

“Hey, beautiful,” I breathed, loving that I’d stolen the air from her.

Finally, she sucked down a breath. “Hey, Hotshot.” She turned her face back to the water, studying the countless boats as they casually drifted down the bay. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, keeping my eyes locked on her profile, memorizing her face. The sharp line of her nose. Full pout of her lips. “Beautiful.”

Perfect mouth parted, Brexley turned to find me staring.I’m in love with you. I wanted to say it. Wanted to declare that I’d found my person to anyone within radius to hear it. But the odds of that being received and not scaring the daylights out of her was slim to none. Brexley would have to say it first. Have to finalize this thing between us. Or she’d spook. Even though the look in her eyes told me she already knew it too. Tonight was expertly crafted, partly due to my willingness to collaborate with Noel and Josie, who’d helped me put everything in place.

All I could do was follow the plan and hope it was enough.

FORTY

BREXLEY

Rhyett had evasively told me he had a plan for after the parade and our walk through the peaked white tents of the festival. The city had been flooded with vendors and artists, all bustling through the makeshift market celebrating stunning displays of ships of every size, age, and shape. Sails as colorful as the patrons on the promenade whipped in the wind, boats softly bobbing in the water. Eighty-three degrees and breezy, the perfect Florida day for thousands of tourists to suck the marrow out of our people in exchange for fuller tills for our businesses. A worthwhile trade? To be determined.

Trying not to think about the sweat cascading down my body, pooling in my palm where it was pressed into Rhyett’s big hand, I followed him through the crowd as the sun set beyond the bay. Warm strips of orange and strawberry red settled over the horizon, spotted with cotton clouds promising a spring rain sometime tonight.

What had at one point been a silky, blown-out hairstyle was now a stringy, frizzy mess, inflated by the humidity like a static cloud. The moment we got wherever we were going, I’d have to sneak away and smooth it back into a braid or a bun at the nape of my neck. Something,anythingto get it off my skin, where it had been plastered by the sticky substance someone at one point deemed ‘air’. That was a blatant lie, but who cared now?

Rhyett’s sunbeam of a smile caught my attention, drawing my thoughts of sticky skin to a very different variety. Naturally, he was grinning at a vendor, a beat before she waltzed forward to grasp his hand with a familiarity only Rhyett could inspire in a stranger. A busty middle-aged blonde in an impeccable dress with petite black heels.

“Do you two know each other?” I asked, despite my passionate belief that they did not.

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