Page 1 of Tied up in Knots (Gummy Bear Orgy #4)

A half-naked sea god

The man I’ve been in love with for the past thirteen years is walking around shirtless…

again . Unfortunately, it’s not for my benefit.

Oh, and did I mention, he doesn’t love me back?

Not that I gave him the chance to, since I’ve never told him how I feel.

The torturous scene in front of me is one of my very own personal hell.

Warre n _ the guy I love but have never told I lov e _ works away on his sailboat, shirtless, none the wiser to my torment.

For the past five years, he’s been working and living on that boat; The Knotty Boy .

Docked right behind my grandma Gigi’s house, which only makes the torment worse since up until a couple years ago, I lived here.

These days I’m here more often than I probably need to be, but what can I say? The scenery is captivating.

Warren turns and flexes as he wraps ropes and ties them off, pulling with every muscle in his abdomen and arms. The black ink of his tattoos, glistening with sweat even in the cold fall air.

The tattoos cover both arms from wrist to shoulder, a collage of accumulated art over the years.

Most of it his and most of it nautical themed.

No matter how much he complains about being a fisherman, he loves the ocean.

It’s in his blood and soul, just like it’s in mine.

There is a mermaid, a kraken, a compass and map, a pirate ship, and a large anchor wrapped in rope tattooed on his left pectoral muscle.

This one I know is his art, the shape only formed from the edges of the interior swirls, loops, knots and indistinguishable shapes.

It’s my favorite of his. I have no idea what the shapes are but they’re all beautiful, accentuating his sculpted body. Basically, turning him into a god.

He’s been working on fishing boats since he was sixteen, so his upper body is well toned and made for the labor-intensive work.

The crisp blue of the calm sea water, and cresting green, white-capped mountains lining all sides of the bay, frame the picturesque scene and I wish I could take a picture.

It would help in the days to come without him.

“You’re drooling Rae.”

“What? No, I’m not,” I protest while subtly rolling my lips to make sure I’m not actually drooling.

Isabelle, or Izzy, my bestest friend of forever, sits next to me on the back porch of Gigi’s house.

The house I grew up in after my parents and grandpa died in a car accident when I was ten years old.

We sit at the well-worn colorful outdoor dining table, made of broken shards of sea glass and pottery in a mosaic of ocean waves and a sea turtle.

Glasses of lemonade drip condensation on to the coasters my Gigi demands we use, also tiny mosaics of sea creatures.

“Sure, you aren’t,” she scoffs, obviously not believing me.

I’ve never told her how I feel about Warren, but I suspect she’s known for a long time.

She never pushes or asks, knowing if I wanted to talk about it, I would.

I never have because…well a lot of reasons really.

One being Warren is one of my closest friends and part of our little quartet group which includes Izzy and her older brother Owen.

By the time I realized I had a thing for him it seemed weird to bring it up and disturb our well-balanced friend group.

Secondly, he’s been saying he planned to leave our remote Alaskan town of Homer ever since he was thirteen years old.

It’s all he’s ever talked about. It’s why he bought the boat and why he’s been working so hard all these years to save his money and fix it up.

So, he could one day sail away from here, from us, from me.

So, why bother risking a worse heartbreak of getting involved and then left behind?

Because I would be. Unlike Warren, I don’t want to leave.

My only family is here, my life and work running the bookstore is here.

But I also had a much easier time growing up here then he did.

His family situation is toxic to say the least.

“Do you think he’s really leaving this time?

” I ask Izzy who sips on her lemonade not watching Warren’s perfectly timed ballet of maneuvering the sail, cranking the winch until the boom swings to the opposite side, and him ducking beneath as it rockets across the deck of the boat, the slight breeze bubbling out the main sail at the end of the movement.

He’s not leaving today, just checking that everything works and that there are no tears in the sail.

I know this because I’ve shamelessly watched him do this multiple times.

Soon he’ll lower the mainsail and tie it down, stowing it for when he does leave.

Which is supposedly in a week. He’s said this before and each time something delayed his departure. This time feels different though.

“I think he actually is this time,” Izzy answers, drawing my attention away from the Warren show. I really shouldn’t stare so blatantly, but I can’t help it. What else am I supposed to look at while sitting here? There’s literally nothing but trees and water, and a half-naked sea god.

“How long do you think he’ll be gone for before he realizes he wants to come back?”

Izzy doesn’t believe he’ll stay away. She, like me, thinks Homer is a great place to live.

And although we both know about his family issues, she doesn’t think he’ll really go.

I, on the other hand, know differently. Once he leaves, he won’t come back, not for anything, or anyone.

And that thought kills me a little inside.

“He won’t come back Izzy.” Jeez, could I sound any more pathetic?

“Sure, he will. Once he’s gone and all alone, he’ll realize how much he misses us and come back. You’ll see.”

“Not likely. This has been his sole goal for most of his life. I don’t think he’ll abandon it so quickly, if at all,” I say solemnly.

I don’t have to hide my sadness at his leaving. It’s not unexpected from one of his closest friends for the past fifteen plus years. We’re all going to miss him, and I’ll have never gotten up the nerve to tell him how I feel and will forever live in regret but can do nothing about it.

“Then we’ll just have to call and text him constantly to remind him of what he’s missing until he comes back, at least to visit.” Izzy pauses, her optimistic facade fading. “It won’t be the same without him. It’s been the four of us for so long, it’ll be like we’re missing a wheel.”

“I know, Izzy. We’ll just have to get over it and move on because he’s not coming back.”

“Why do you seem so certain of that?” she asks.

“I just am. And letting myself believe otherwise will only make it worse when he doesn’t.”

Izzy nods a reluctant agreement, her long blonde hair twisting around her shoulders in the slight breeze.

Winter is almost here, and I know that’s why Warren planned his departure for a week from today.

He wants to escape before the cold and snow trap him.

Winters in Alaska are no joke and if he doesn’t leave on time, he will be stuck for the whole season.

Which I personally wouldn’t mind, but he’s determined to make it happen.

With the crates and supplies he’s been amassing I think he will succeed this time.

“Why the long faces?” Owen asks as he steps out onto the back porch carrying a box of what are no doubt supplies for Warren. “We’re supposed to be celebrating today, remember?”

That’s right, Owen decided to throw a going away bash at the local bar Anchor’s Bottom tonight for Warren to say goodbye. He doesn’t see this as losing a friend, but as his friend reaching a goal and succeeding. Which is probably how I should look at it as well. At least on the outside.

“You’re the only one who wants to celebrate losing your best friend,” Izzy chides her brother in that way only siblings can.

“I’m not losing my best friend,” he argues. “He’s just relocating. We’ll still be best friends, that won’t change. You really think he could find anyone better than me to be his best friend?”

Owen plasters on a large cheesy grin. Lifting his chin, the sun hits his short blonde hair illuminating him like a golden angel.

Like he’s the ideal specimen for best friend material.

He really is but we don’t tell him that, he’s already cocky enough as it is.

In high school he was the captain of the ice hockey team and still plays occasionally with a local league when not working for his family’s construction company. It made him very popular.

Both he and his sister were the quintessential popular kids.

I still have no idea how we managed to become friends.

Izzy was a cheerleader and class VP. It even made sense for them to be friends with Warren the resident bad boy.

Somehow jocks and popular girls always mix with the bad boys, but not usually with the introverted, quiet book nerd.

I played exactly zero sports, participated in zero school activities, spent most afternoons in the library, and probably never would have attended a single school dance had it not been for Izzy dragging me to them.

Even after high school I didn’t do anything special, no college, no travel.

I’ve been working at Gigi’s book shop , The Book Vault, for forever and a few years ago she retired and bequeathed it to me.

It’s all I’ve ever known or wanted. Living in the apartment on the second floor above the shop, I have everything I need.

Except someone to share it with. Someone I wished would have been Warren.

I’ve tried for years to get over these feelings for him, even dating other guys, but they never dwindled. Much to my dismay I think they only got stronger over the years.