Page 33 of Wake Me Up (New England Bay Sharks #5)

I ’m so fucking nervous right now.

Me. Tripp Talmage. To some, that wouldn’t prove anything, but those who know me—or fans who have followed my career—they’d know I don’t get nervous. It’s not in my bones. Yet here I am, sitting across the table from the most breathtaking woman, and I can hardly form a sentence.

When Freya texted me this morning, saying that her in-laws wanted to take the kids to stay at a hotel with a pool for the weekend before Aviana’s surgery, I never expected her to ask me if I was free to hang out.

But she did, and so here we are, sitting at my table, eating the chicken Parmesan I made for us.

“You know, this is really good,” she says, wiping her mouth and setting the fork down. “And I hope this doesn’t sound bitchy, but I didn’t expect you to be a cook.”

“No offense taken,” I say with a deep chuckle. “I don’t have a never-ending list of shit I can cook. It’s more like … ten things, tops. But I’ll tell you, I’ve pretty much mastered those ten things.”

I don’t tell her that I’ve had to master them because I’m almost always alone. I don’t want her to feel bad for me or look at me like I’m pathetic.

“I’d say you have.” She smiles. “Thanks for having me over.”

Something has been bugging me, but I’m scared to ask her because I’m not sure I’ll like the answer. Inhaling and exhaling quickly, I go for it.

“Do, uh … your in-laws know you were going to come over here?”

I feel like a dick the second the words leave my lips, and I wish I could take it back. She doesn’t owe me any explanation—ever. So, why did I feel the need to ask?

There’s concern on her face, but it’s mixed with joy.

“Believe it or not, Helen is the main reason why I am here,” she says, the corner of her lips turning up.

“She and I had a good conversation, and even though I think I’ll always feel guilty because I don’t want anyone to think I’m trying to replace Jamie, hearing her words helped me.

A lot.” She pauses, a bit of emotion filling her face.

“Also … all three kids know I’m here tonight. ”

“They do?” I can barely even whisper it because I’m surprised.

“Yep,” she says sweetly. “Cane was the first to talk to me the other day.” She laughs. “He heard us on the phone when I called you about the tickets. And the other two? I talked with them this morning.”

“And how’d that go?” I hang on to every word coming from her lips, suddenly unable to eat.

“Let’s just say, all three were pretty persistent that I spend some time with you and they go with their grandparents.” She stops, biting down on her bottom lip. “Please … don’t make me regret telling my kids, Tripp.”

When her last words come out in a weak whisper, I push my chair back and stand. Taking the few short steps next to her, I kneel down and cup her hand in mine.

“I won’t, darlin’. You have my word.” I bring her hand to my mouth, pressing my lips to it. “Thank you for being here.”

She smiles down at me, her eyes glossing over a bit before she bends forward and throws her arms around me, pulling me in for a hug. I’m not afraid I’ll hurt her. I would never. I’m scared that I’ll get more attached to her and her kids and she’ll push me away.

But even as cliché as it sounds … this is a risk that’s worth taking.

She is a risk worth taking.

I look at myself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric that’s stretched against my chest before pulling my hair up into a ponytail and then looping it around into a bun.

When Tripp told me to bring my swimsuit, I almost died when I thought about how I didn’t own anything that was even a little sexy.

I mostly have all one-pieces to cover up my stretch marks, but when I was going through my suits, I found one that I’d never worn.

A tankini that shows off only the bottom of my stomach with a high-waisted bottom.

It’s far from sexy, but it’s the closest thing to it that I’m going to feel comfortable in.

Grabbing the towel from my bag, I drape it around my body and walk out of the bathroom. This seems crazy—to be headed out to get in the hot tub with Tripp. But he is my husband, and I suppose there are worse things we could be doing. So, I’m going with it.

When I round the corner, he’s standing in the kitchen with his palms on the countertop. His eyes take me in, and he smirks.

“You seriously brought a towel from home?” He narrows his eyes. “Is that … a Disney towel?”

I look down sheepishly but then shrug. “I’m a mom.

I always bring things that I probably don’t need.

” I slap a hand against my forehead, cringing.

“I was afraid I’d be changing in the bathroom and I wouldn’t find a towel.

I didn’t want to have to walk out without one. Figured this was the safest bet.”

Pushing his palms from the counter, he starts toward me. His eyes drink me in, but his smirk is gone, and replacing it is an intense look. When he gets to me, he stands still for a moment until, suddenly …

He yanks the towel from my body.

“Much better,” he says, eyeing over his work. “Though I wish you’d take the suit off. You know, I almost didn’t even tell you to bring one.”

“And why is that?”

“Because then you’d be standing here, naked, right now.” He reaches out, brushing his fingertips along the fabric on my stomach. “Don’t ever cover up, Freya. You’re too fucking perfect for that.”

I blush and laugh at the same time, widening my eyes at him. “You, sir, have never seen me naked.” I wince. “Which is pretty insane because we are, you know … married.”

“So, let’s change that,” he drawls quickly, not missing a beat. “Lose the suit, darlin’.”

My mouth hangs open. “No way in hell!” I look down at myself, wrapping my arms around my front.

“I’ve had three kids, Tripp. The women you’re used to being with?

I’ll bet their stomachs don’t jiggle if you slap them, and they certainly don’t look like a faded road map.

” I sigh. “Trust me, you want me to cover up. ”

His eyes darken, and he bends a little closer. “If I wasn’t so set on not pissing you off tonight, I’d rip that fucking suit right in half right now, Freya.” His voice is deep and calculated. “And after I did? I’d fucking worship every single inch of you with my mouth too.”

A shiver runs through my body, hardening my nipples, and I move my hands up higher to try to hide them, but I’m sure it’s no use. He sees it, too, because he smirks before he puts his hand on my waist.

“Come on.”

Turning away from me, he starts down the hallway. I follow slowly to not seem too eager, and he leads us out onto the patio, where there’s a hot tub. Next to it is an impressively large in-ground pool with the cover over it, like it’s closed down for the winter.

“Sucks you have such a beautiful pool and live in a state where you only get to use it … what, three months out of the year?”

“I don’t swim,” he utters, sliding the hot tub cover off.

I frown. “So, you just enjoy the hot tub instead?” I smile. “I’ll admit, I’m the same way. Unless a pool is, like, a minimum of eighty-six degrees, my ass isn’t going in it.”

I move onto the steps of the hot tub before swinging my legs over the edge and lowering myself down. It’s so hot compared to the cold November air that it almost prickles my skin, and I feel like a bunch of teensy needles are poking me. Once I’m fully submerged though, it feels freaking incredible.

When he tugs his T-shirt over his head, I swallow roughly before my eyes move downward. Through his swim trunks, I can see just how long he is. Which is no surprise since I’ve not only felt it under his jeans, but seen it on a screen too.

That still doesn’t make it any easier to look away though.

“I don’t really use the hot tub either,” he utters as he climbs in, lowering himself much slower than I did.

“Oh,” I say, leaning my head against the cushion. “Did the pool and hot tub just come with the house or …”

Sitting across from me, he rests his arms on the edge of the hot tub. His hot gaze is on mine, and I pull in a breath.

“No. I had them put in a few years ago,” he answers. “My sister has two kids. I figured, when they come to visit, they might want to swim. ”

The more time I spend with this man, the more surprised I am by how truly selfless he is.

“Tell me more about your sister,” I say before smiling. “How old are her kids? And are they boys? Or girls? Or one of each?”

“A boy and a girl.” He doesn’t smile proudly when he tells me, but I can tell he is proud. He’s just not the type to boast. “Jack is four, and Jenna is two.”

The thing I’ve noticed about Tripp is ninety percent of the time, his answers are bare minimum. He says what he needs to say and nothing more. But it doesn’t make me feel like he doesn’t want to talk. It’s just who he is. And to be honest, I find it sort of endearing.

“Do they live in Maine?” I can’t stop asking questions. I want to know more and more about this man. I want to know about his family. Everything.

“Nah, they live in Alabama.” He drags a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “She and her husband live about an hour away from my mom.”

I shouldn’t ask anything else. I shouldn’t poke and prod, but curiosity killed the cat, and I find myself wanting to learn everything about this mysterious man who’s across from me.

“You said you lost your dad when you were a kid and that your mom raised you and your sister alone.” I almost choke the words out, second-guessing saying them at all. “When did he die?”

He breaks eye contact now, looking over toward the ocean. “When I was eleven.”

“Oh gosh, Tripp,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry. And I hope it’s okay that I asked. I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

His ocean-blue eyes move back to mine now, and he gives a subtle shake of his head. “Nothing to be sorry about, darlin’.” He flashes me a small, reassuring smile. “We’re married, you know. So, you know what that means. You can ask me anything you want.”