Page 29 of Sharing Shadow Secrets (High Five Novella #6)
A s he starts the wakesurfing boat, I can’t stop eye fucking him. Why does Brandon have to look so good? Aviators, an oversized T-shirt, and swim trunks.
You’re a dumb ass for fumbling this guy.
This could be your life. Summers at the lake house with him.
I settle into the seat across from his, staring out at the lake and all of the beautiful homes, curious what all these people do to have such expensive summer homes. It’s sunny. Warm yet not too hot with a nice breeze.
“How’s business?” Brandon asks.
“Lots of meetings, but no new clients. Nicholas just gave me a lead, though, so I’m excited about that. How have you been?”
“Good.” His gaze lingers before he looks ahead. “See this place?” he asks, pointing to a home, and I nod. “That used to be my favorite house. It was a Spanish style home, but the people who bought it demolished it and built this shit.”
“What was wrong with the place?”
“Nothing. They paid twelve million dollars for the most gorgeous home and then flattened it.”
I couldn’t imagine doing that or even having that kind of money.
“That’s insane,” I say, shaking my head, staring at the new home.
“I know.”
“How long has your family had this place?” I ask, keeping the conversation going so I don’t idly stare at Brandon. I’ve missed him. Really missed just being with him.
“Forever … This place has been the only constant in my life.”
Taking that in and the surroundings, rocking in my seat after a boat’s wake catches us, I get why it’s so special to him. “My parents still live in my childhood home,” I share. “It’s smaller than some of these boat houses.”
“What made you want to move to Chicago?”
“I wanted more. More of everything. I feel like I saw everything I needed to see in my hometown.”
“Not everyone wants more,” Brandon says, turning to face me. “More can be pretty addictive to some.”
“I mostly want to be in control of my life. Live it on my terms. Have my days be filled with what I want to be doing versus what someone else is telling me to do.”
“You want to be the boss.” He winks.
I giggle, thinking about how he suggested that I boss him around sometime. “You’re a terrible host. Where are the snacks?”
“Are you hungry?”
I nod, and Brandon turns the boat around. “I’m not starving to death.”
“Do you want a snack or do you not want a snack?” he asks tightly, although he’s softly smiling.
“What kind of snacks do you have?” I playfully ask.
He shakes his head. “Plenty. I’ll give you a pantry tour when we get back.”
“Thank you for not letting me starve.”
“Are you flirting with me?” he whispers.
I shrug.
“No making out, Taylor.”
We have this rule because of me. Because … I’m afraid of how I feel, how much I like him, how fast my life is changing. Any more change feels overwhelming.
“I miss texting you,” I say, not looking at him.
“I miss your texts.”
That reminds me of something I’ve been meaning to circle back to. “You never answered my question. About you being bi.”
He presses his fingers into his lip, like he’s deep in thought. “I’ve been with guys.”
“Yeah?” I ask, too eager.
“At first, it was more of something I did because my ex was into group activities, but there have been a couple of guys that I’ve sought out one-on-one.”
“So, you’ve gone out on dates with guys?”
He stares at me before saying, “I’ve fucked guys.”
I shouldn’t be blushing, but I am. “So you’re a top?”
He shrugs, and why is this turning me on? “I don’t really know how I identify,” he says, staring out. “I’m not attracted to all guys. It’s only been a couple. I mean, same with girls. I don’t find every girl attractive either.” Brandon turns his head, looking right at me. “What about you, DVP?”
“I like guys. Probably too much … Dating is fun. The thrill of the first date, what could be.”
“What about girls?” he asks casually.
“Yeah, no. I’ve never felt feral for a girl. But I also get bored with most guys really quickly. I’ve gone out on hundreds of first dates at this point, but the number of guys that have made it to date four is … small.”
Brandon tilts his head, chuckling. “What are we calling this right now?”
“Not a date,” I attempt to say deadpan, but end up cheesing.
“This is the fifth time I’m seeing you …”
“You’re not boring, Mr. group-activities-sometimes-a-top. But for real, you’re really cool.”
“But the timing isn’t right.”
“Right,” I exhale, trying to stay strong and listen to my gut—that now isn’t the right time although I want to be cuddled up with him.
“Should I keep holding out hope?” he asks slow and uncertain.
“Yes,” I whisper, and he puts the boat in neutral, standing. He steps toward me, bending down, and holy shit he’s going to kiss me. His hands cup my face, and he places the most tempting kiss on my lips.
“I’ve never wanted a company to succeed more than yours,” he breathes, then kisses me again. This time, I really kiss him, showing him exactly how into him I am. His hand slides down my throat, lightly squeezing. “Bad girl. Breaking the rules.”
“You kissed me!”
“You’re making out with me.”
I giggle, and he kisses my forehead, releasing my neck, and retakes his seat. “I’m sure you think this is stupid, me not wanting a boyfriend until I can pay my rent, but it’s really important to me.”
“I know it’s important to you, which is why I don’t think it’s stupid,” he says, putting the boat back in gear. “It’s also good to know you’re not trying to date me for my money.”