It’s too late for me to back out now, but I’m beginning to wonder what in the hell I got myself into.Chapter 12RoyceWhen I was ten, and my father told us he was building a lake, I didn’t think about what it was going to cost, or the logistics of getting it done. My brothers and I were pumped to be able to go fishing and to swim anytime we wanted. It never failed every time we would go to a public lake someone would end up talking Dad’s head off about a business venture they wanted him to join, or asking for a loan. He decided the only way he was going to get uninterrupted time with his family was to build a lake. He wanted it big enough so we could use the boat, to ski and tube, and use the Jet Skis.
Now that I’m older, I understand the magnitude of the financial investment he made. Not that we couldn’t afford it, but he and my mother gave my brothers and me our own hangout. We spent every summer out on this lake growing up. We still try to do it as often as we can now that we’re older and have responsibilities. When Jennifer and I got married, this is where I wanted it to happen, but she refused. She hated the lake. Hell, she hated everything and anything that had to do with the outdoors. That should have been my first sign that we weren’t meant to be.
I’ve never brought anyone here, just my ex, and she never went out on the boat with us. My brothers occasionally brought a girl with them, but it’s usually a huge get-together, not just us. Our buddies know they have an open invitation, but as we got older, everyone started getting busier. Day jobs, wife, kids, adult responsibilities, and for the most part, it’s the five of us and sometimes Mom and Dad. Not today. Today Sawyer is here.
And I can’t keep my eyes off her.
“You know,” Grant says from his spot next to me, “if you keep it up, this vein right here”—he taps the center of my forehead with his index finger—“might burst right open.”
“Fuck off,” I grumble.
“Seriously, what’s up with you?” he asks, his voice suddenly serious.
“I’m fine.” We both know that I’m lying.
“Want to try that again, big brother?” He smirks, taking a sip of his beer. I stay quiet, not because I want to ignore him, but I know if I start talking, that all the shit I’ve been holding on to is going to spew out of my mouth. “No? Okay, how about we start with why you were with her?”
“She was at Jase and Sam’s last night.”
“And that explains why she was with you today how?”
Here we go. “She drank too much, and I took her home. She didn’t have her keys or her purse, so instead of going back to Jase’s to get them, she stayed at my place.”
“And you gave Marsh and Con a hard time for dancing with her.” I can hear the humor in his voice.
“Nothing happened.”
“Oh, I believe you. That vein in your forehead tells me that all on its own. What I’m not certain of is whether or not you wanted something to happen.”
“I met her. Before her first day at the office, I met her.”
He nods. “Where?” There is surprise in his tone.
“The plane.” I go on to tell him how we met and how I felt something for the first time in forever.
“So, what’s stopping you?”
I turn to look at him. “She works for us.”
“Lame-ass excuse if you ask me. I’ve never seen you act this way, not even with she who shall not be named.”
“It’s fucking with my head.”
“Don’t let it.”
“Yo, you two coming or what?” Marshall calls over to us. He’s standing on the side of the boat. Owen and Conrad are already in the water, and Sawyer stands next to him.
“You going to let those three swim with your girl?”
My girl is standing beside my baby brother in a barely there teal bikini. Okay, so it covers her everywhere, but all that smooth exposed skin is also fucking with my head. I want to wrap her up in my arms and feel her skin against mine. I want to kiss her lips, and— I shake out of my thoughts. I can’t go there.
“Count me in,” Grant calls out just as Owen climbs back on the boat.
I watch as Grant runs and jumps into the lake, splashing Sawyer, making her laugh. I want those laughs. I also know me, and I can’t do anything halfway. If I start something with her, I’m all in, and I don’t know if that’s the right thing to do.
“You not swimming?” Owen asks, running the towel over his head.