I woke up smiling today, and I know that has to do with a certain blonde that I invited out onto the lake with us today.
I know it's going to piss Lyla off, but I don't fucking care anymore. What I do with my time is up to me. I'm in control. Plus, if she misbehaves, I'm the one that gets to choose her punishment, and who doesn't love a bit of power?
I know I do.
But before we hit the lake, I have a date with an even more stubborn lady. I knock on her door and not a minute later, she answers.
"Good morning, Della," I smile. "I brought you some breakfast."
She's still in her night gown, with her hair up in curlers and glasses resting on the edge of her nose. Della has become the grandma that I never got to have, as both my parents had lost both of theirs before we were even born.
"Good morning to you too, boy," she says, reaching out to grab the takeout plate from me. "Come in."
We walk through the sitting room and into the kitchen before Della grabs some silverware. The house itself is small, but it's just enough for Della. Her couch is one of those you'd see in old eighties movies, covered in handmade quilts that she made.
There are not many pictures on the walls other than the ones of her late niece. Other than her, Della has no family. So, while the house is comforting and cozy, it lacks that familiar wholesome family vibe.
"Let's go, Jensen. It's a beautiful day, and I'd like to eat my breakfast outside." Somehow while I was surveying the house, she had made her own cup of coffee and transferred food to her plate from the box.
I'm thankful that it's early May because it means it's finally comfortable enough for us to sit outside again. Della wouldn't be out here if it wasn't. I swear, this woman is one of the coldest natured people I've ever met.
"So," she says, taking a bite of her omelet. "What plans do you have today?"
"My family and I are taking the boat out onto the lake today for a bit of bonding. It's been hard to get everyone in the same place because of work and school, but we've had this planned and we're making a day of it."
"That sounds nice honey," she says. "Who else is going with you?"
"Why would you think anyone else is going with us?"
I'm not a good liar. Not right now. Anyone in this moment could look at the beads of sweat on my forehead and my bouncing legs and see that I'm lying, that I'm nervous. Once I admit it to Della, it's real. Not that it isn't already, but the woman has a way of knowing all my business without me even trying.
"Jensen, I'm old. Not blind. I see your truck leaving that pretty girl's house next door a lot here lately. Not to mention, you run together and walk together, and you're smiling a lot. And you're a bit antsy this morning, which you normally aren't."
"Are you stalking me, old lady?" I laugh, not caring about giving Della shit. If she can dish it, she can take it.
"I may be an old lady, boy, but I can still whip your ass," she giggles. "And it's not stalking. These shitty soap operas I watch get shittier by the day. It's much more entertaining to watch your drama instead." Della looks up, giving me the biggest smirk I've ever seen on her face.
"You're pretty private. Are you sure you weren't a Russian spy? Because you're way too sneaky for your own good."
"I don't kiss and tell," Della smiles, picking up her coffee mug and taking a swig. "What's going on with you two?" I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. "I see. Seems like your history wasn't history at all."
I smile. "Maybe not, but I'm still taking it slow with her. She did break my heart after all," I say, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. I keep telling myself that as an excuse, but I don't think it works anymore. Not after what she's told me.
"People are gonna break your heart, son. Question is... is she someone that makes it worth the risk of it breaking again?" Della asks earnestly.
I've asked myself that a thousand times in the last few weeks. Made up a thousand excuses, too. But in the end, she came back. She's here, above it all—the drama, the heartbreak, the miscommunication. The powers that be somehow brought her back to me, and I think that's worth the risk.
"Yeah," I sigh. "I really think she is."
"As long as you feel that way. Don't let anyone change your mind," she says, pointing her fork straight at me. I get the point, Della.
"Okay, Miss Della," I begin. "I've got to get going. We're supposed to be on the boat in an hour."
"Thanks for breakfast, honey." I go to leave, but Della stops me with her words. "Can I leave you with some advice?"
"You'd tell me even if I said no," I chuckle. It's true. Della is all about telling you what you do and don't want to here, whether you ask or not.
"True," she snickers. "Anyway. It's your heart, Jensen. Protect it, but don't be afraid to give it away again."
Della's words hit me like a freight train, like they always do. This woman is wise beyond her eighty-some years.
"I'll see you soon," I tell her, walking back down the stairs of the porch to my truck. Everything feels like it's coming together in my life for the first time in almost eight years. But I can't help but think about when that other shoe will drop...
Because it always does.
-----------------------
"Are you guys almost ready?" I ask.
Everyone is here. Lorraine, her fiancée, Mason, Jax, and Lyla. The only one who isn't here is Baya, but I'm not surprised. Late used to be her middle name in high school, and I guess it still is.
"What are we waiting for then? I'm ready to work on my tan for beach volleyball season," Lyla says eagerly. I've noticed recently that she's only cold toward me, but she's fine when we're all together.
Teenagers are fucking confusing.
"We're waiting for Baya," Lorraine answers her.
"What?" Lyla squeals, stomping her foot as she stands from her chair. "What the hell is she coming for? Lorraine, you've got to uninvite—"
"I invited her," I interrupt.
"Are you—" Lyla tries to start again, but I don't let her this time.
"No, you're not starting this today. Whatever shit you have against her is going on the back burner for today. You can ignore her if that's what makes you feel better. But you're going to enjoy this day with family, and with her, and you're not going to complain," I say sternly.
"What?" She squeaks.
"If you don't play nice, then you lose car privileges. And before you say anything, yes, I can do that. If I foot the bill, then I have the final say. Are we going to have a problem today?" I ask her with all the seriousness I can muster in my tone.
"No," she grunts, taking off down to the boat. Lorraine and Jax were obedient and humble as teenagers, but damn, I'm getting my sanity's worth with this one.
When I look over at Lorraine, she smiles and winks at me. I can see the pride in her eyes, and that makes me feel good. I'm not saying that I've been a pushover in my parental role, but I've probably let more slide than most people would. Not anymore though. Lorraine's eyes shift over my shoulder and before I can turn around, she's taking off past me, accidentally shoulder checking me in the process.
"B!" She screams, running toward the end of the driveway where Baya is currently walking up.
"Hey Lo," Baya says, just before Lorraine jumps her and almost knocks her down. Baya nearly topples over which causes both girls to laugh. Their laughter is a form of serotonin for me. I've worked my ass off all these years to ensure my family was happy, even at the expense of my own.
"What are we waiting for?" Baya asks as she walks closer to where we're standing.
"You," I nudge her. "Is there ever a time where you're not late?"
"Absolutely... not," she laughs, and I smile bigger. "I'll be late to my own funeral. Watch me."
I loaded the boat earlier so all that's left now is to load the coolers and snacks, and whatever beach bags that Lorraine packed.
My dad got this boat when he married my mom, and it's been in the family ever since. It's had a few upgrades here and there, but it still holds the original feel of family. The double-decker pontoon is beige with white leather seats on the bottom and a top deck that's seatless—used for laying out and jumping off.
I pull us out onto the lake and keep driving until we're close to the cove we found a few years before our parents passed. There's a man-made beach directly beside it, so we normally set up camp there and grill burgers and hot dogs. But before that, we usually goof around.
"This is a good spot," Jax tells me. Once we're settled, Lorraine speaks up.
"Who's ready for some fun?" Lorraine wiggles her eyebrows.
"Fun?" Mason questions.
"More like a competition," Lyla grumbles. Surprisingly, she's been behaving since we've gotten on the boat. While she may not be a fan of Baya, she's tried her best to be civil. Either she's listening to me—which I doubt—or she's racking up behavior points to use on me later when she wants something.
"Our dad used to call our lake days 'Kicking It with The Keelers' and we used to play this little game called 'Jumping Jack Flash'—which is nothing like it sounds—and it always turns into a blood bath because this family is so damn competitive," Lorraine explains. It's another reason we do this as often as we do. It reminds us of our parents, makes us feel close to them.
"I've missed doing this," Baya admits. I see Lyla cut her gaze to her and scowl, but she says nothing. Progress is progress, right?
"Suit up, ladies. It's girls versus guys today," Lorraine winks. Everyone starts moving to undress, and like the idiot I am, I look at Baya.
She rolls her shorts down her legs and my mind—since it's acting like a horny teenager—plays it in slomo, moving inch by inch down the semi-tan, creamy flesh. And her ass... fuck, it's toned. That's what running does for you, and I pray that she never stops.
I think I could bounce a quarter off it.
The movie playing out in my head gets extremely more R rated as Baya reaches for her top. When she does, I take in an audible gasp, and thankfully the only person that acknowledges it is Mason.
I watch the muscles in her abdomen flex as she stretches to remove the tank top. It makes me want to kiss every single inch. Baya then drops the shirt to her side, and my jaw drops. If I thought that slomo was hot... then this is one fire.
Baya's breasts bounce as she relaxes her arms, making me want to sink my teeth into the flesh. I can see the outline of her nipples, and all I want is to wrap my lips around them—tug, suck, bite.
Fuck, Jensen. Stop thinking with your dick.
My eyes trail over her skin, examining the intricate tattoos that decorate her skin. She isn't covered, but she still has a handful. The microphone on her ankle, the guitar on her calf, the bird on her ribcage just underneath her breast. My eyes try to assess the others, but I keep getting drawn back to the bird.
There's something about that bird.
"Let's go," Lorraine laughs, dragging Baya toward the top deck to jump.
I'm going to need to sit here for a minute so that my semi doesn't turn into a full hard-on.
------------------
"What's the verdict?" Baya asks, lifting herself back onto the top deck of the boat. The water glistens on her skin, made more visible by the sunlight. I have this crazy urge to run my tongue over every inch of her flesh and make sure there's no droplets left. Then I have to avert my gaze from her breasts, which I know are more outlined now that her top is wet.
I've already got a hefty shot of side-boob so far and had to jump off pre-maturely to calm down. Clearly my other head is the only one thinking today.
"I'm not sure. Six? Maybe a seven?"
"Bullshit," she laughs. "That was at least an eight point five, maybe even a nine. I freaking flipped, J!"
"Not impressed," I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest.
"You're so full of it." Baya goes to punch my arm—playfully, of course—but I catch her fist mid-air and jerk her to me. Her body molds to mine instantly. The coolness of the water on her skin mixes with the heat on mine, soothing me in a way I can't explain.
"Okay. I've had enough," Lyla starts. "You can do whatever you want behind closed doors, but I do not want to see it."
No one says anything, and I feel Baya stiffen in my arms. There goes those brownie points for behaving. But before I can say anything...
"Okay," Lorraine says. "You don't have to watch then." She walks right up to Lyla and pushes her off the boat. Lyla goes down screaming and only gets quiet when she submerges into the water. Everyone walks to the edge, watching as Lyla pops her head back up and spits out some of the lake. She wipes her eyes, then glares at Lorraine.
"What the hell, Lorraine?" Lyla bellows.
Lorraine giggles. "Oof, guys. I don't know." She looks around at each of us. "I think that one was a zero, maybe a point five just to give some pity. Thoughts?"
Jax and Mason stay quiet, but not me. "I couldn't agree with you more," I say to Lorraine, while directly looking at Lyla in the water. She just grunts and swims back over to the dock of the boat, pulling herself up. Lyla doesn't join us anymore while we jump and score, but it's no love lost. I love my sister, but she's being a real brat here lately.
After stopping long enough to cookout for lunch, we got back onto the boat and lounged around with drinks some more. Time passed too quickly and before we know it, it's time for our other family tradition.
Bonfire.
Jax and Mason help me gather firewood while the girls get the stuff together for smores. They're gone longer than I'd like given Lyla is with them. But ever since Lorraine pushed her in, she's been quiet.
Thank God.
"Hey, J," Lorraine gets my attention. "We're low on smores supplies in the house. Can you run and get some?"
"Yeah, I've got some extra stuff at the restaurant. I can grab it."
"Baya, go with him," Lorraine says, physically pushing Baya in my direction. I look at Lorraine with my brows furrowed and all she does is mouth 'you're welcome' to me.
"Let's go," Baya says, skipping over to me to loop her arm in mine. She may have had a few drinks—maybe four, or five—and a shot or two on the water. I didn't drink because I was driving, but she's clearly tipsy at the least, probably borderline drunk.
Once we get to the restaurant, Baya hops down from the truck and runs to the door. It's still open with Billy managing it, but Baya just busts right in and heads straight for the storage room off the kitchen.
"I don't need you tipsy around the grill and fryer," I laugh, even though I'm totally serious. She's an accident waiting to happen. "Go wait for me in my office."
Baya pouts but does what I say. I walk past Billy and all he does is smile and shake his head.
"Don't," I say to him, laughing immediately after.
"Wasn't going to," he returns.
Once I grab the supplies, I head into my office and stop when I see Baya twirling around in my chair.
"Is this what it feels like to have power?" Baya giggles before coming to a stop. "Oh my god, chocolate!" She jumps out of the chair and over to me. Baya tears into the bag as if it's nothing, pulling out a piece of chocolate and ripping through the wrapper before popping it into her mouth.
The storage room is kept room temp, but the growing temperature outside given the month has made the chocolate a little...soft. As it goes in her mouth, a little bit smears off on her lip. I'm not even sure she notices that it's there, but I do.
And now all I want to taste is Baya flavored chocolate.
"May I?" I ask, pointing toward the chocolate on her lip.
Her demeanor immediately changes, and I see the nerves written all over her. I wish she'd loosen up around me when there's not alcohol involved, but maybe it's what she needs to do whatever her nerves—or her mind—won't let her. However, she nods.
I go to swipe it off with my finger, but instead, I swoop in and capture her lips in mine—chocolate included. She melts into my touch quicker than expected, which makes it easier for me to back her up into the desk.
Baya scoots onto the desk with ease, and I gently push her down to where she's lying. Her legs wrap around my waist without prompting, and I relish in the feel of her body against mine.
Our lips move together fluidly, the position we're in making it easier to take more and more from her as I deepen the kiss. She tastes of chocolate with a hint of tequila, and while you wouldn't think it's a desirable taste, on her, it's fucking heaven.
When I break away, I look down at her. The glazed look in her eyes is a window to the truth, and I want to know more, need to know more.
"Why are you only like this with me when you're under the influence?"
I know that I stunned her with that question, but we're going to need a little bit more honesty here.
"Because I'm afraid to be myself around you," she admits almost too easily.
"What are you talking about?" I help her sit up on the edge of the desk but keep my stance between her legs. I can feel the heat between her legs against mine, but I push that out of my mind for the time being.
"You were mad when I left to be a songwriter, even though I didn't want to break up." She sighs. "I'm not trying to bring it back up, I promise. It's just... I'm afraid that this isn't real. That you're just pulling me along so that you can be the one to hurt me, to pay me back for hurting you."
Her words sting. That's not the kind of person I am. But I guess when things are good, it's easy to think about how they could go bad.
"Baya, I'm not that kind of guy. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want to." I look up and away, but this needs to be said to her face, not away from us. "I'm terrified of you hurting me again, and I'm not saying I think you will. There's just so many possibilities and I can't...we can't move past this if there isn't some mutual ground."
"Okay," she nods.
"We're both vulnerable to the situation, both at risk of getting hurt. So, I want us to make a promise to each other. Are you clear-minded enough to do that?"
"Yes."
"Good," I smile. "Promise me that no matter what happens, we'll talk about everything. The things that are good, the things at aren't—especially the things that aren't. Our communication needs to take priority because it's clearly what we struggled with before."
I think I just surprised myself. That sounded rehearsed, and it wasn't in the slightest. There's a weight lifted as the honesty rolls off my shoulders, and it's wildly freeing.
"I can do that," she promises.
"Good."
"You know what we didn't struggle with?" She asks. I shake my head. "Chemistry," she winks. "Because I feel how hard your cock is now and I know it was earlier, too."
I throw my head back and laugh. "Okay, first off, I can't believe you just said cock. And secondly, it's time to get you back to the world of the living and either sober you up or get myself some help to take care of you."
"You can take care of me," she says, linking her arms around my neck.
"Yep, it's time to go," I laugh. I bend over and throw Baya over my shoulder. She squeals, and I tap her ass to quiet her.
When I walk past Billy, he starts laughing again.
"Have a good night, Billy," I tell him.
"Yeah. I'd say you too, but I know the answer already," Billy says, continuing to laugh even after we've passed the back door to the kitchen.
It won't be a night like he thinks. I'm not about to sleep with her for the first time again when she's drunk.
Maybe soon though, because my resolve for her is breaking down each time she does anything remotely sexy, which at this point... it's just her existing.
Because everything—and I mean everything—is sexy about Baya Mikaels.
Not going to lie, this chapter got away from me. It's the longest one I've written for this book yet, but I couldn't stop. I was enjoying myself too much.
What was your favorite part of this chapter? I could probably guess, but I'd rather y'all tell me yourselves.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter <3
P.S. --> There may be a tiny bit of almost smut next chapter...just saying.