Lawless (4 page)

“Probably not, but I had to get out.” I glance out over the dark water, another shiver vibrating through my blood. “I regret it now though.”

“Thinking about going in?”

I snap my eyes to his, stunned by the question. “No. Are you crazy? I almost died out there.”

“One out of how many times?”

“Excuse me?”

“How many times have you been in the ocean,” he points to the water behind him but keeps his eyes locked firmly on mine, “
that
stretch of ocean, and come out of it just fine?”

I shake my head. “That’s not the point.”

“It is, though. How many? Hundreds? Thousands?”

“I’m not you. I have interests outside of the ocean.”

“Okay, so hundreds. You’ve been in that water hundreds of times and one of those times things went south.
One.
What’s your favorite food?”

I chuckle in surprise. “What’s my favorite food?”

He takes a step toward me, lowering his voice but raising his lips in a small smile. “Do you answer every question with a question?”

“Do I—No.”

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Chicago style pizza. Stuffed crust.”

“If Chicago style pizza with stuffed crust gave you food poisoning
one
time, would you never eat it again?”

“Does it land me in the hospital?”

“Yes. But you’re out recklessly eating and driving again within a day.”

“I’m not reckless driving.”

“Would you eat it again?” he pushes.

“I don’t love the ocean the way I love pizza,” I answer him seriously. “I don’t love it the way you do. I could forgive pizza. I can’t forgive this.”

He nods his head, his face falling to the ground the way it did in my hospital room.

“I get that,” he says, his voice low. Earnest. The wind tries to take it, the roar of the ocean tries to steal it from my ears, but I find it. I grab onto it and I hang on his words. On his lips. “It’s not about loving it, though. It’s about overcoming it.” He looks up at me, his eyes intense. “It’s about not being afraid.”

“Why do you care?” I ask softly.

“Because I’ve seen what fear does to a person. You let it win once, even a little, and it starts to take over. Just a little more and a little more until you’re scared of everything and everyone. I’ve seen guys out there on the water who were fearless, but one wave takes them down and rattles them and suddenly they won’t go after it like they used to. They’re tourists. They take the easy way on everything until they don’t even bother anymore.”

I glance between him and the water, shifting on my feet and wincing at the pain it gives me. “Are you afraid of anything?”

He laughs, coming to lean against my car next to me. I can feel him. His body close to mine, the bare skin of his arm brushing against the bare skin of mine. He smells like the sea. Like salt and sun. Like everything I wanted to bottle up and everything I’m dying to get away from. That’s Lawson to a T. Alluring and terrifying. Beautiful and dangerous.

“Everyone is afraid of something,” he tells me lightly.

“Okay, so what are you afraid of?”

“Ghosts.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he says, but his smile says he’s anything but.

Whatever window was open for viewing into Lawson Daniel, it’s closed now. He’s shut it up tight, replacing it with the suave bravado the world has come to know and love so well.

“Let me drive you home,” he says softly, his face surprisingly close to mine. “I wanna make sure you get there safe.”

He’s leaning toward me, his arm firmly pressed against me and his eyes baring down into mine.

Whoa, when did that happen?
I think, instantly going on high alert.

I back away, leaving him leaning into the wind. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause you just about cried right then when you put weight on that leg.”

I open my door, already falling inside. “I’m good. I figured out how to drive with my left foot. Thanks, though.”

I go to pull my door closed but he grabs it above the window, holding it open.

“Hey, Rachel.”

I sigh before looking up at him. “Yeah?”

“Remember what I said about fear, okay?”

“I will. But I’m not afraid.”

He grins wickedly. “Not of anything?”

He knows why you’re running away, idiot. He knows why women do
all
of the things they do around him.

“Lawson Daniel,” I say breathily, my voice barely above a whisper, “can I be real with you?”

“You can be anything you want with me, Rachel Mason.”

I lean half out of the car, putting my face within inches from his. My breath rebounds off his lips, coming back to me smelling sweet. Like strawberries and ice cream.

“Given the choice between you and the shark,” I whisper, “I like my odds better with the shark.”

I yank my door closed, forcing him to stand up and step back. I can hear him laughing as I put my car in gear and back out of the parking lot. I don’t look back as I pull onto the coastal highway. I try not to think about the smell of him, the feel of him, his kindness and concern or the fullness of his laughter. I’ve nearly got him out of my head entirely as I pull into my driveway.

As I catch sight of a dark Subaru cruise by in my rearview mirror.

“Hey, shark bait, what’s shakin’?”

“No,” I answer severely.

Wyatt chuckles, leaning his hands against the counter. His white Frosty Freeze ball cap is sitting high up on his head, his mop of black hair curling down around his forehead under the bill. The dark tendrils are wet with sweat, the heat from the grills in the back probably baking him as much as the summer sun was killing me outside.

“No to what?” he asks me, smiling easily.

“No to the nickname.” I hobble toward him, resisting the urge to plop down in any one of the chairs I pass along the way. “No to talking about it. No to being known as the girl who nearly died by shark.”

“What do you want to be known as?”

“The girl who got out of town, which is why I need to ask a favor.”

“Anything, shar—malade. Sharmalade.”

I tilt my head at him. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? That’s your save? Sharmalade.”

“I’m sticking to it.”

“Cool. Anyway,” I slide my resume onto the counter toward him, “I need a job and nowhere is hiring. This is my last resort.”

“Flattering,” he deadpans.

I wince apologetically. “I’m too hot and too tired for flattery, sorry.”

He smiles faintly. “You want an ice water?”

“Can I bathe in it?”

“Can I watch?”

I laugh, instantly changing my tune. “I’ll take it in a cup.”

He fills a cup halfway up with ice and injects a quick stream of water inside before lidding it and handing it to me. I’ve never tasted anything better in my life.

“You been out in this heat all day?” he asks me.

“Ugh,” I groan, setting the cup down. “The last
two
days. I’ve been applying everywhere in town but nowhere is hiring. The high school kids snatched up all the part-time jobs.”

“Yeah, I know. We have three of them here.” He turns his head toward the back, raising his voice. “Little assholes too!”

“Douche!” someone shouts back from the fryer.

Wyatt shakes his head in annoyance. “I hope that fry oil burns his dick off.”

“Wow,” I whisper.

“Yeah, see? You don’t wanna work here. It’s no place for a lady.” He smirks, looking me up and down. “Or you.”

“Fuck you,” I chuckle.

“I take it back. Maybe you’d fit right in.”

I sigh in exhaustion, sliding onto one of the stools lined up in front of the counter. “I don’t want to work here. I don’t want to work anywhere in Isla Azul. I’m supposed to be in Boston by now running errands in a law firm and making above minimum wage. Now thanks to this,” I gesture disparagingly to my mangled leg, “I’m trapped here and I can’t even get a job selling ice cream for eight bucks an hour.”

Wyatt grimaces sympathetically, his face going serious. “You’d be on your feet all day here. You barely made it across the dining area without collapsing. You winced the whole way.”

“Did I really?”

“Whole way,” he repeats.

“I’ve been trying to go without the crutches. It’s been a week, I thought I was getting better. I thought it made me look more dependable to be without them. Sturdier.”

“It made me want to jump the counter and carry you just to make it stop.”

I smile at him, my eyes softening. “You’re sweet. You’ve always been sweet.”

“You wanna tell Katy that for me?”

“I’ll try, but you know how she is. She’s still hung up—“

He reaches out and touches my hand, shaking his head. His mouth forms a firm line, his eyes shouting at me to shut up. To not say the name.

That can only mean one thing – Lawson is nearby.

My body responds immediately, my eyes dying to seek him out. The reaction worries me. I want to be strong, but right now I’m so tired and so weak I think I’m transparent. I’m a jellyfish – spineless. Listless.

And the currents keep pulling me toward
him
.

“I better get going,” I tell Wyatt, standing quickly and gasping as I do.

He instinctively reaches out across the counter to steady me but I smile and wave him away.

I tip my drink toward him. “Thanks for the water. And for listening to me bitch.”

“Take it easy, Sharmalade.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle, “you too.”

I run from the Frosty Freeze. Well, okay, I don’t run, but I bolt as fast as my cripple ass will carry me. I put on blinders, I keep my head down.

The heat hits me hard in the face and lungs when I make it out the door. It’s hard to breathe for a second, transitioning from the dry cold of the AC into the humid heat outside. I take a slow, sluggish breath before I start across the blacktop. Heat rises off it in shimmering waves that play with your eyes and mess with your perception. The world roils and rolls around you like you’re walking through invisible fire.

Or you’re headed straight into it.

“Rachel.”

Shit dammit.

He’s in the shade at the side of the building. The long brick wall behind him is painted white but it’s chipping. It’s cracked, the multiple thick coats of color giving way to reveal a crimson fissure running from the sidewalk to the roof. Long and jagged. Like a scar.

Lawson leans against it in a pair of gray cargo shorts, a blue T-shirt, and a black baseball hat pulled down low over his eyes. The shadow cast by the bill makes it impossible to see him clearly, but I can feel his eyes on me.

“What?” I ask him curtly.

He grins with only half his mouth. Sexy and slow. “You having a bad day?”

I point impatiently to my leg. “I’m having a bad summer, Lawson. What do you want?”

“Just sayin’ hey,” he drawls.

“So I can go now?”

“You can do whatever you want, Rachel.”

“Thank you,” I say, turning on my good heel. “I’m going home.”

“Rachel.”

I sigh, looking back at him. “What?”

“Have a good day, Rachel.”

“Why do you keep saying my name?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never really used it before. I get a weird little rush when I say it out loud.” He pauses, watching me intently. “Do you feel that way when you say my name?”

“No.”

He chuckles, dipping his hands into his pockets and leaning his head back against the wall. “That’s a lie. Do you know why I think we get excited about each other?”

“Is this going to be a long speech?” I ask, pointing to the sky. “Because I didn’t bring any sunscreen.”

“It’ll take as long as it takes. Longer if you don’t play along.”

“Or I could go home and it’ll be over before you know it.”

“You could, but you’ll wonder all night.” He takes a long dramatic step to the side, dragging his body across the wall behind him until he’s standing at the base of the fracture, the red erupting from his shoulder up toward the sky. The sight makes me uneasy.

“Come stand in the shade with me,” he offers.

I shake my head, holding my ground. “No, I’m good, but for my skin’s sake tell the story quickly.”

“That’s just it. It’s the story. It’s because we didn’t have one before. I didn’t know you. I knew
of
you, but I didn’t know
you
. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Not really.”

“It is. This town is smaller than an ant’s ass and I’ve got a story with every girl in it in one way or another. Even Katy and I have shit in common. But not you. Not until that night.”

“I’m exciting for you because I’m new.”

He smiles at me lazily. “Maybe. Or maybe I like the start of our story. Maybe I want to see what the rest looks like. Don’t you wanna know, Rachel? Don’t you wanna say my name and feel that feeling? That rush?”

I do. I absolutely do because I’m human, it’s been months since a guy has gotten close to me, and dude is hot.

He’s also high.

“How much have you smoked today?” I ask him bluntly.

He laughs, lowering his head until I can’t see his eyes anymore. Until his entire face is hidden by his hat. “Yeah, alright,” he mutters deeply. “I’ll see you later.”

I stand there, doubtful. Waiting, but for what I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I just got the brush off, though, and weird as it was, I take the opportunity to run. I head for my car, fall inside, and leave the Frosty Freeze far behind.