On the Rocks (A Turtle Island Novel) by Kim Law

Author:Kim Law [Law, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503950719
Published: 2016-01-12T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

How’d the date go?”

Carter stood on the front porch of Ginger’s house at dawn the next morning, his hands tucked into his back jean pockets, wishing he didn’t enjoy the frown on her face so much.

She eyed him from the bottom of the steps. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He winced. “Sorry.” It was all he had.

He couldn’t very well admit he’d secretly been hoping it didn’t go well—he hadn’t liked the firefighter who’d come to her door last night. And he certainly wouldn’t tell her that he’d spent the previous evening—again—watching for her to return home. There had been no drinking for him—or smoking . . . that had grown old—just in case she didn’t show up and he had to go looking for her.

And why? All because he’d seen her naked? Because he’d gotten all hot and bothered when he’d written a sex scene about her?

Or because he’d gotten his nagging question answered when he’d seen her naked?

Pink. Her nipples were pink, just like he’d imagined. A very soft, almost-too-faint-to-see touch of color that proudly centered her breasts. A hue that he would have gladly handed over the keys to his custom-built home for just the opportunity to touch.

Fuck. He had to get a grip. Ginger was his friend, and a friend only. Even if he wanted it to be more, what would be the point? She was looking for a husband. A man to give her babies. And that wasn’t him. He’d blown the husband and father opportunity with Lisa, and he had zero desire to put himself back out there.

Ginger climbed the steps to him. “Why didn’t you wait and come over with me?”

He’d left a note for her that morning. He’d woken up with the desire to actually write his book. And he’d wanted to do it here. More than one scene had been in his head when he’d opened his eyes, and once he’d set up a makeshift desk on the top-floor deck, his fingers had flown over the keyboard. He was writing again.

“Couldn’t sleep” was all he said.

He knew he should tell her he was an author. That he was, incidentally, one of her favorite authors. But he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Mostly because until this morning, he’d been wondering if he could still call himself that.

But the two hours he’d spent lost in his head had given him an adrenaline rush he hadn’t felt in months. Another morning or two like that, and he’d spill his guts. He wanted to see the look on her face when she found out.

“I was over here yesterday,” she told him, glancing behind him to the house. “The walls were going up.”

He could see the anticipation in her eyes, and he gave her a teasing wiggle of his brows. “They’re up.” He nodded toward the closed door. “So the question is . . . see the walls now”—he angled his head toward the water—“or see the sunrise?”

He knew what he wanted.

Ginger

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