Don't Promise (Don't 3)

I tried to catch my hair in a fist. It was blowing all around my face.

I edged off the bow and attempted to stand. Before I was completely upright, the boat slowed to a crawling pace.

“Be careful up there,” Blake called. “I don’t want my passengers going overboard.” But there was no concern in his voice. It was a definite warning not to screw with his night.

With the boat almost still, Cole walked toward me. “You need something? Out of beer?”

“Uh, no, just wondering if you could tell me where we are.” I looked away from Cole, and motioned toward the water. I used to know every part of the sound. All the creeks. Now it was practically foreign.

I was turned around and couldn’t get my bearings.

“Why don’t you sit with Blake? He knows the island better than anyone.”

I didn’t know if that would make the shaking stop or make it worse. Why did seeing Blake Wyatt after all these years do this to me?

Sure I’d seen him on TV. It was hard not to. He was the biggest thing to ever come off this island. He was one of the AFA’s biggest stars. And he was my ex.

The guy I never stopped thinking about. The one who haunted me. The one who made it impossible to let another guy near me. Damn it. Why was I on his boat?

I stood and balanced myself before taking a step toward the stern. I had to prove to myself and to the guys that I could be casual about this. What happened all those years ago didn’t matter anymore. I had accepted our fate.

Blake and I weren’t meant to be. He was successful and famous. I was living my dream in Dallas. We were never going to be right for each other.

“Can I sit here?” I pointed to the seat Cole had vacated next to Blake.

“Go ahead.” Blake sipped from his beer and cut the engine to an idle. “We can slow it down in these calm waters. No danger of hitting sandbars tonight.”

I lowered myself onto the narrow bench next to him. He kept his eyes straight ahead, concentrating on the channel markers. As he clutched the steering wheel with one hand, I noticed the muscles in his arms flexing with each movement.

“That’s good.”

This was fucking awkward.

“I can just drop you off. Cole’s drunk. This was his idea. Not mine.”

I saw his cousin propped against the bow. His eyes were closed.

“I’m fine.” I felt as if I had to say it aloud. He needed to hear it. I needed to hear it. It was a complete lie.

“Sure you are. Always fucking fine,” he grumbled.

I stiffened next to him. Maybe I just needed to get off this boat.

“Hey, what was that old story you used to tell?” I asked. I recognized where we were for once. “Was it the swimmer something?”

“Fuck, Sierra. You don’t remember? Seriously?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

“I could tell you, but I wouldn’t want to scare you.”

“You can’t scare me,” I taunted.

“You sure about that?” Blake smiled. It was sexy and smoldering. Enough to make me shiver.

He eased closer and rested his arm on the ledge above my shoulders. The breeze swirled through my hair, and I wondered if he could smell my shampoo, because I was drinking in every ounce of him—even though I tried not to.

“Try me.” I turned toward him, fully aware that his arm was almost touching me. Almost.