Page 11 of Red, White, and You (Merry Little Midlife #3)

Caffeinated and sated, I stand on the edge of the dock, looking out over West Lake.

The mid-morning sun casts a warm glow on the water’s surface.

It’s my second morning waking up in Brady’s arms in our private cabin at Camp West, and I’m buzzing with a mixture of nervous excitement and looming dread.

Each new sunrise brings me one day closer to leaving.

Reuniting with my ex-husband after all these years has been like diving into uncharted waters, unsure of what lies beneath, while somehow also knowing that I am supported and safe. Brady will always be there to catch me.

It’s a beautiful juxtaposition of feelings and I don’t want it to end.

But end, it must. I know that as surely as I know my own name. If we were worlds apart back then, time has only deepened that divide between us. The proof is in our careers; they couldn’t be less alike if we tried.

Brady stands beside me now, and, as if he senses my thoughts have taken a turn, slides his hand into mine and gives me a gentle squeeze.

Always there to catch me.

The camp bustles with activity, but in this moment, as I look up into his eyes, time stands still, leaving only the two of us.

A gentle breeze ruffles my hair, and I pull my gaze away from Brady, turning my attention to the shimmering lake. I’ve been so caught up in the excitement of Brady West that I somehow allowed him to convince me to do get back on skis.

As we approach the dock, the sound of laughter and splashing water fills the air. The lake teems with life, adults of all ages enjoying the summer sun. They float on inflatable unicorns and drink margaritas pulled from coolers floating beside them, or scream as they plunge down the waterslides.

Brady squeezes my hand, his touch sending a wave of electricity through my body. It’s a familiar sensation, like finding a long-lost piece of myself, and I allow it to remind me that this, too, is a long-lost piece of myself.

A long-forgotten piece, sure, but I grew up on the water; returning to it should be second nature.

We secure our life vests and approach a beautifully restored wooden boat bobbing in the water.

“Ready?” Brady asks.

“Hardly.”

He laughs, then jumps into the ski boat. “It’s like riding a bike, Breezy.”

“I doubt that,” I grumble as slip off my sandals, feeling the warm wood planks beneath my feet. And truthfully, who knows if I even remember how to do that .

Brady helps me onto the boat, then we sit side by side on the wooden bench.

The boat surges forward, and a rush of adrenaline courses through my veins. The wind tousles my hair as we glide across the lake’s surface. Brady’s hand grazes mine, and I instinctively curl my fingers around his.

When we reach the middle of the lake, far away from the swimmers and the other water sports, we slow to a stop and Brady slips into the water with ease, then jerks his head toward the water, eyes narrowing as he holds my gaze.

“You didn’t develop a fear of lakes when you moved to the city, did you? ”

I scoff. “No.”

Maybe a little. But I’m not telling him that.

I slip in to join him and the water envelopes me, cooling my skin and washing away any apprehension. Like an old friend’s embrace, it calms me. Centers me.

Like he does.

I drop down, dunking myself completely under water, and when I resurface, I grin and Brady returns my smile.

“You good?” he asks.

“I’m fine.” I’m more than fine; I’m practically vibrating with energy. Less than a minute back in the water and I’m desperate to stand on my skis, the spike of adrenaline in my veins proof of that.

After getting our skis strapped securely to our feet, Brady and I grip the vee handles and steady ourselves in the water, waiting for the boat to pull us into standing positions.

As the boat picks up speed, the ropes grow taut, tense, and the force of the water fights against our bodies. Briefly, we’re suspended between two worlds, but then the boat speeds, lifting us up to the water’s surface.

The world blurs as we skim across the glassy lake, the rush of adrenaline overpowering any lingering doubts. The wind tugs at my hair. I am weightless, unburdened by thoughts of what could be, the demands of my career, or the imminent sadness of goodbye. Carefree and wild, if only for today .

I glance over at Brady, who grins as we ski side by side. It’s as familiar now as it was back then, and I’m struck with how natural it feels to be beside him. Why did I ever let him go? Surely nothing, not even a career, is more important than being by this man’s side.

It’s in that moment of hesitation that I wobble, then lose my balance entirely and crash to the surface.

I hear Brady’s voice before my head goes under, but then I quickly push myself up, gasping for air and laughing at my mistake.

Brady swims toward me on his back, looking absolutely ridiculous as he fights against his skis.

“I’m fine, Brady,” I call out. “Relax.”

The irony of me telling him to relax is not lost on me and sends me into another fit of laughter. I gulp down a mouth full of water, then sputter as I choke on it.

“Woman, shit,” he says, panting when he finally reaches me. He pulls me back onto his chest, letting his life vest hold up the both of us as if mine alone isn’t enough.

“I’m fine.” I cough a few more times, then relax in his arms as the boat slowly turns around and returns to us.

The water ski instructors haul us both back into the boat, and as I plop back down onto the bench, I feel Brady’s gaze on me.

“I’m fine,” I insist. “Let’s go again.”

Brady’s grin is so bright it gives the sun a run for its money. He motions to the driver of the boat. “Well? You heard her, Randy, let’s go again!”

We spend hours on the lake, skiing and falling, laughing and doing it all over again.

By the time the sun has begun to set over the western mountains, we sit side by side once more, our bodies now damp and weary but our spirits renewed. I haven’t thought about work in hours.

My body aches. My limbs are tired.

And my cheeks are sore from smiling.

We’re sunburned, windburned, and exhausted—and I haven’t felt this good in years. As I step into the cabin with Brady at my heels, the sun setting behind us over the lake, I laugh softly and turn around to face him. “I can’t believe you got me on skis again.”

“I can’t believe you doubted yourself.” Brady grins as he closes the cabin door and clicks the lock into place. “You looked good out there.”

“I felt good out there.”

He takes a deep breath and nods. “Good.”

“I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” I say with a laugh.

“Then don’t. We can stay inside all day.”

The silence stretches out between us as we stand in the middle of the cabin, locked in each other’s gazes. So much to say, so much catching up still to do, but talking about the past only proves how empty it’s been without him, and talking about the future, well…

That’s pointless and painful.

“The shower isn’t really built for two, but I think we could make it work.”

I bark out a laugh, then cover my mouth. “I’ve been in that shower, Brady, and there’s barely room for one person.”

He inclines his head. “Ladies first.”

Without moving toward the bathroom, I unwrap my cover-up and let it slip to the floor.

Brady gives a low whistle. “That whole Baywatch thing…”—he waves toward my red one-piece—“it’s pretty spectacular.”

“Thank you.” I pull one strap down off my shoulder, then the other, leaving the bathing suit at my waist, and smiling at the way his eyes flare with lust. “We rinsed off at the dock. I guess we could always shower… after.”

Brady’s gaze flicks up to my eyes, then he charges toward me, bends at the waist, and scoops me into his arms. I squeal as I wrap my arms around his neck, holding on as he strides into the small bathroom.

He reaches past me to turn on the water, then carefully places me beneath the stream once it’s warm.

I sigh and lean my head back, enjoying the hot water on muscles that are quickly becoming quite sore.

Brady peels my swimsuit down and helps me step out of it, then positions himself in the doorway of the shower. It’s not built for two, but as I watch him kneel, I realize his plan and my breath catches in my throat as desire pools between my legs.

“Open up, baby,” he commands, looking up at me with those deep blue eyes.

I do as I’m told, leaning back against the opposite wall and spreading my legs for him.

The warm water hits my shoulder and cascades down my side, filling the bathroom with steam and quickly removing any chill from the air .

Or maybe it’s just that my skin is heated, flushed beneath Brady’s gaze.

He runs his hands from my knees to my hips, massaging my tender thighs, and I moan, closing my eyes. The pressure is perfect, enough to ease the tension in my muscles but not so much that it hurts.

Brady lifts one leg and props it over his shoulder, then he presses his face between my thighs.

He runs his tongue up the seam of my lips, and I whimper, opening my eyes to look down at him as he does it again, in a teasing, slow lick.

When he winks and sucks my clit into his mouth, I buck in response to the sharp jolt of pleasure he sends to my core.

Brady hums against my skin, pressing his face harder against me as he begins to work his tongue, quickly working me into a heated mess of need and desperation.

He grasps my hip with one hand, then brings the other between my legs, slipping a thick finger inside me.

He slides in and out, slowly massaging me and working my opening until he can slip another finger inside.

He pushes them deep until his knuckles fight against my opening, then curls them, brushing against the sensitive spot that will soon have me shaking around him.

He licks and sucks my clit as he rhythmically pulses his fingertips against my g-spot, and I brace myself with a palm on each wall of the small shower.

Brady’s fingers increase sped, pumping into me quickly now, pushing me—no, pulling me—to the edge with rapid demand. Each curl of his fingers drags me closer, closer to the edge. Each flick of his tongue threatens to undo me where I stand.

My legs begin to shake. My muscles tense. Tremble.

He slips his fingers out and grabs my thigh, lifting my left leg up to join my right, holding my weight on his shoulders.

I press my back against the wall as he grips my ass, plunging his tongue into my pussy.

He presses his nose against my clit and moves his head back and forth ferociously as he tongue-fucks me to the finish line.

I shake and shudder as the orgasm claims me, flexing my palms against the walls to keep from falling into a heap on top of him.

“Brady,” I breathe. Beg. Plead .

He moans against me and the vibration sends electricity rocking through my core.

“Oh God,” I cry out, “oh my God !” My body jerks with each wave of pleasure. Tenses, then relaxes, then tenses again. Stars burst behind my eyes.

My thighs flex around his head, stealing the very air he breathes, and still he pumps harder with his tongue, feeding on me like he no longer needs air.

As the tremors begin to subside, he licks me slower, each leisurely stroke of his tongue now a gentle caress rather than a command.

I’m practically comatose when Brady places first one of my feet on the ground, then the other, then stands up to kiss the tip of my nose.

He squeezes into the tiny shower stall and maneuvers me under the flow of water.

I lean forward and rest my head on his chest while he pulls the rubber band free of my hair, then slowly and delicately unravels my braid.

He washes my hair, then gingerly washes my body, and when he begins to massage conditioner into the ends of my hair, I look up at him.

His gaze meets mine and he smiles. “You look exhausted, Breezy.”

I nod. “I am. ”

“Let’s get you to bed.” He runs his fingers through my hair, rinsing out the excess conditioner, then reaches behind me to turn off the shower. He slips out of the shower and dries off quickly, then wraps me up in a towel and carries me to the bed.

Once I’m tucked between the sheets, I force my eyes open in time to see him strip out of his swim trunks. When he steps closer to the bed, I reach for him. “I need to return the favor.”

Brady chuckles, and it’s a sexy sound that seeps into my body and curls around my heart. He climbs into the bed beside me, turns me onto my side, and curls around me. “Later,” he whispers against my temple. Then he places a gentle kiss there and pulls me close.

I sigh, settling into the warmth of his body, the safety of his arms.

“Later,” I promise.

“I love you,” he says as I drift off.

I should say it back. I want to say it back. I think maybe I do say it back, but I’m too sleepy to know for sure.