Twila's Tempest Read online

  He hunched down, rolled his eyes, grasped Twila around the waist and slid her out.

  “Hey, I almost got it,” she complained.

  “Give me that.” He plucked the wrench from her hand and lay on his back to get at the plumbing. It took some heavy torquing to tighten the leaking offender. Twila remained kneeling beside him and while Mr. Miller went to the kitchen, she let her hand stray to his hip, too damn close to his crotch.

  That’s how he got the welt on his forehead.

  “Jesus!”

  “Oops.” She giggled and then shuffled back.

  He slid himself out, rubbing his forehead. “I hope you’re gonna kiss it better.” She leaned over and covered him in a wreathe of locks while she kissed his forehead. Not missing out on any opportunity, he grabbed her and yanked her on top of him.

  Unfortunately, that’s how Mr. Miller found them.

  He sighed good-naturedly. “I sure miss Mrs. Miller.”

  Five minutes later Twila threw her goddess like leg over her bike, giving them a wave on her way to the next needy senior citizen.

  “Got any words of wisdom for a guy who thought he was a confirmed bachelor?” Drake asked, sitting and sharing a beer with Mr. Miller in his Florida room.

  Mr. Miller chuckled. “You’ve fallen for Twila, huh? Well, I don’t know if you’re barking up the wrong tree or not,” he said, passing a hand through a head of thick, white hair.

  Mr. Miller loved his golf. It kept him healthy and alive. He was eighty-two, but could easily pass for sixty.

  “What do ya mean?”

  “I think you’ve figured out she spends most of her time doting on us. Smart man would wonder why that is.”

  “Been trying to, but I’m coming up empty.”

  “If you figure out a way to make Twila see that accepting wedded bliss isn’t an invitation for grief, you’ll have her at the altar.”

  He set his beer down with a thump. “Are you saying she’s scared of death?”

  “Yup, that’s what I’m saying, son. She watched her momma wither away with grief when her daddy died, and she’s seen it many times around here. What she forgets is the joy before that time comes, and that it’s all worth it, no matter how painful it is in the end.” He nodded his head and his eyes welled. “It’s worth it, every minute.”

  He reached over and gave Mr. Miller a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “Thanks, Mr. Miller. I knew she was grieving, but I didn’t think about the connection, although I’ve been a bit preoccupied.”

  “Us old guys aren’t as dumb as most people think,” he said with a grin. “I can still count backwards from a hundred.”

  “You can do a bit more than that.”

  “’Course you’re not the only Tom Cat on the prowl.” Mr. Miller rocked slowly in his chair.

  A part of his heart that had never seen the light of day jumped to life. Jealousy. “Sorry?”

  Mr. Miller stuffed his pipe and tilted a lighter to it, taking a couple deep billowing puffs to ignite the tobacco. “Doc Aikens wants her to start up a geriatric service with him.”

  “Who’s Doc Aikens?”

  “He’s got a practice in town. He sees a lot of us.”

  “You’re saying he’s invited Twila to start a business again?”

  Mr. Miller spluttered. “Yeah, right, you believe that, son? The doc has been sniffing around Twila since her mother passed.” Old man Miller turned his bright blue eyes on him. “She’s turned him down flat a number of times. He’s just getting smarter about it.”

  “Thanks for the beer and the words of wisdom.”

  “See ya, Drake. Say ‘hi’ to your momma and daddy.”

  He jogged back to his place and burst through the front door. Not seeing his father lounging in his favorite chair meant he’d retired for an afternoon nap. Leaning against the kitchen counter, he crossed his arms and stared at his mother. She finished dicing a carrot and looked over at him.

  “Who’s Dr. Aikens?”

  She shuffled away from him and opened the fridge, digging through the crisper. “Doctor in town.”

  “Uh-huh, and…?”

  She stood up with a couple potatoes wedged between her fingers. Plopping them down on the counter, she gave him a long look. “Who’s the blabbermouth?”

  “Mr. Miller, and how come I haven’t heard of him before?”

  His mom pressed a hand to the back of her hair, pushing up the coiled bun she wore today. “I know we old people have a tendency to go on about our aches and pains, but we don’t spend a lot of time gossiping about our doctors.”

  “Mr. Miller said he’s been chasing Twila. Is that true?”

  She shrugged and reached in the drawer for a different knife. “She’s not interested in him. Speaking of which, your red-tailed harpy called.”

  His brow crinkled. “Heather?”

  “Who else? She said you’re not answering her texts. Thought your phone was on the fritz.”

  He sighed and put both hands on the counter. “She must have one helluva good texting plan, she sends about a hundred a day.”

  Sliding the cutting board leaning against the wall to the counter, she said, “Are you ignoring them?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “But you haven’t severed the tie completely, have you?”

  “I thought I had, but obviously I wasn’t clear.”

  “Why not?” She washed her hands and dried them on the kitchen towel.

  Good question, he hoped Heather would get bored and walk away peacefully, but that wasn’t Heather. “Not sure.”

  His mother gave him a harsh look. “Well, let me answer that for you, son. You’re keeping her in the wings for a booty call. I’m guessing Twila isn’t a slut, unlike she-who-is, and you’re being a typical man.”

  He swallowed and considered the big fat lie he was about to tell to save Twila’s virtue. This one he wanted to pull off without setting off his mother’s bullshit detector. Problem was, his mother had the best damn internal lie detector on the planet. Both he and his brother Layton never got away with a damn thing when they were young. “It’s not that.”

  Sure enough, his mom narrowed a look on him. “Which means what?”

  Gnawing on his lip—a dead giveaway, he quickly released it. “Twila and I are friends.”

  “I don’t recall kissing my friend in the rain like I saw you kissing Twila.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, so I like her.”

  His mom raised a finger. “Correction, you like her a lot.”

  “Yes, I do.” He stood up straight and looked his mother in the eyes. “She’s everything you said she is, and more. Happy?”

  “Almost.”

  He cocked his head at the little, fiery woman who gave birth to two six-foot-three sons. “Which means what?” Turn the tables, throw up a diversion, he was almost clear.

  “Don’t be gutless,” his dad said from the other end of the kitchen, gripping his cane.

  His sciatica must be acting up again. Maybe the daily golf games were too much, and he should lay off for a bit. It flared when he overdid the psychical activity.

  “I’m not gutless, believe me.” Completely the opposite. They kept it behind closed doors, but he and Twila couldn’t keep their hands off each other, as in breakfast, lunch and after dinner. Midday snacks included, when he demanded she stop. He’d never been this sexually active in his life. Rabbits had nothing on them. Twila had lost her shyness after the massage, and she blew his mind every time she touched him. If they had privacy, they had to be naked. When they were naked, he had to be inside her. Sometimes the need to possess her made him blind with desire, other times they teased each other into a playful fury.

  Like any man faced with the unknown, he tried to find a reason. The thinking geek inside him said it’s because they didn’t use a condom. He’d never done that before. He didn’t care if she was on the pill or not. She was, but if she wasn’t, it wouldn’t have deterred him. Their passion flew off the charts with one care
ss, and au natural was the only way he wanted to love her. Love! Another word that kept popping into his head. Until Twila, it had been every other euphemism for the act.

  Yesterday she called him over for lunch. The table was set, and she’d made a simple fruit salad and toasted a loaf of bread. He swore he’d get through it without jumping all over her. Five minutes in, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the curve of her breast peeking out from her open collar. As if she sensed his appetite had switched from food to eating her, she grinned at him and picked up a strawberry from her plate. He’d been trapped the second the red dimpled skin touched her lips. With blinding speed, he was on his feet and had her in his arms. She reached for the top button on her shirt. They needed to be naked now, and he ripped open her shirt, buttons flying in every direction. He stripped the jeans from her legs, and he barely got his zipper down before he had her pinned on top of the table, buried inside her with a deep groan of satisfaction. Reckless, wild and so fucking amazing, he couldn’t wait to be inside her again and again.

  It’s where he belonged, even acting like a damn savage. Mind blowing, earth shattering, none of the descriptors aptly described how much he wanted her, and the intensity grew every time. He hated leaving her. Every time it became more of a struggle and getting harder.

  Between the moments of sexual bliss, they had become friends, deepening the relationship by sharing their successes and failures. He’d never been big on pillow talk, but to delay her leaving his arms, that’s exactly what he did. Time was ticking away quickly. Soon he’d have to head back to the Keys. His cell buzzed against his hip. He checked it in case it was his team, but it was another text from Heather.

  Back from the shoot. Need to see you. Followed by ten little lips and ten little hearts.

  He walked over to the phone. It was two o’clock where would she be?

  The answering machine kicked in. “Hi, you’ve reached Twila. Leave your name and number and I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  “Yeah, this is Drake Addison.” He grinned. It was time to deploy his secondary mission. “I’m in dire need of your assistance. Call me, I think you’ve got my number.” He grinned at the double meaning. She sure as hell did. Nothing compared to Twila when her silky thighs wrapped around his hips. The only thing that came close was holding her against his body as they talked about what they wanted in life. They kept it in general terms. Any time he strayed too close to their union, she’d redirect. Thanks to Mr. Miller he knew why.

  Drake watched the game with his dad and waited an entire hour before the phone rang.

  “Hey, what’s up?” her sweet voice asked.

  “I’m coming over. Put a swimsuit on under your clothes.”

  “Drake, I—”

  “Are you arguing with a captain?”

  “Um, noooo.”

  “No? Then be ready. I’m putting in my request for your assistance.”

  “For what?”

  “You’ll see.” He hung up and looked over at his dad. “Not gutless.”

  His dad smirked and gave him a little jerk of his head.

  * * * *

  She and Drake drifted in the thirty-five foot jet boat Drake’s old Marine captain loaned them. They’d just left Schooners restaurant after sharing a plate of fresh crab and a beer. It kinda reminded her of his parents who often did the same. The thought tugged at her romantic heart. Was he trying to tell her something?

  It wasn’t all fun and games though, her education in the marine world far from over. Drake let the current push them from the pier, and then he started the powerful engines. She sat in the leather bucket seat next to him. No wonder girls went crazy for those bodice rippers with bare-chested pirates and sea captains. She certainly wanted to rip hers off, well, if she was wearing one. As if he sensed something, he craned a look over at her, a set of white teeth gleamed from below his shades. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

  “Sorry, can’t say.”

  “Why not?” He pushed the throttles ahead and the powerful outboards thrust the vessel across the waves.

  “You don’t need any ego polishing.”

  His angled jaw snapped to a brittle edge and his brows popped a couple times. “Tell me anyway.”

  She adjusted her sunglasses and tilted her head so the wind would keep her hair out of her face. “I was thinking you’d make a pretty good pirate.”

  He started to laugh. “And would you be my scullery maid or my pirate princess? No, better yet, I take you hostage and keep you in my cabin ravishing you at my whim.”

  “Are you admitting to reading romance novels?” she teased.

  Drake turned the wheel to port once they’d cleared the end of the pier. “I admit to reading one novel.”

  She stood up and hung onto the top of the windshield. “You did?” her voice rising. “Get outta here.”

  He slowed the jet boat and the swell picked up the stern as it rolled past. “Every guy should read one. Only makes sense doesn’t it? Women read those damn things all the time, there must be something in there that they like.”

  “Sex, there’s lots of sex in them.”

  “So I found out.” A hearty laugh followed. “I also found out what turns a lot of women on in that thing. Best damn sex guide I ever read.”

  “You base your lovemaking on a romance novel?”

  He shrugged. “Gave me a good place to start,” he said grinning at her.

  She blushed and escaped his gaze. “So what’s my lesson for today?” she asked changing the subject. The mention of sex started both their engines running.

  They drifted close to a red buoy. “You ready?” he said.

  “Shoot.”

  He explained its navigational usage as boats passed them. This area of the waterfront had plenty of traffic, and mariners were friendly, often waving at each other.

  “So I keep the red buoys, which are starboard hand buoys on my starboard side when we’re returning?”

  He nodded and smiled at her. “Correct, and to remember it use this phrase: red, right, returning.”

  “Huh, easy.”

  “And port hand buoys come in what forms?” he asked, testing her.

  “Port hand buoys can be cans, spars or pillars,” she said, raising a finger for each one.

  “Exactly.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss on her mouth.

  She laughed and pushed on his chest. “Don’t distract me.”

  He wrapped an arm around her waist, cinching her against him. “My star pupil needs some affirmative reinforcement.”

  Drake gave her another kiss and then took the wheel giving the craft some power and headed for three timbers that rose from the water. He pulled back on the throttles to drift a few feet away. “That’s a day mark,” he said pointing to the top. “In this case a port hand day mark.”

  She nodded. “So I have to keep it on my starboard side?”

  “No, the port side. It marks the port side of a channel or a danger and you need to keep her on your port side when heading inbound or upstream. There’s no light, only reflective tape, so it’s of no assistance at night.”

  “Is the starboard daymark the same, only red?”

  “No, it’s a triangle. When we see one we’ll take a closer look.”

  “Think I’m getting the hang of this.”

  “I’ll show you some cardinal buoys before we make our next stop.” He pulled on her hand. “Your turn to take the wheel.”

  “But this is a jet boat.” The speed scared her a little.

  “You’re in command, sweetheart, take us out.” She nibbled on her lip and looked around her. A vessel was approaching from their right which meant it was the stand on vessel and had the right of way, she pushed the throttles ahead a little and altered course to pass astern of it.”

  She heard Drake whistle. “You’re born for this, sweetheart.”

  Once they’d reached open water and less craft to zigzag, she relaxed.

  “Put the paddles down, Twila. Let’s see wha
t she’s got.”

  Her heart thudded anxiously. “Okay, it’s your funeral.”

  “I’m going to get us some water from the cooler.” He gripped the seats when she gently pushed the stems forward.

  “Trim,” he yelled out.

  “Got it.” She almost forgot. Drake had shown her where the auto trim was and the craft evened out. The warm wind buffeted her, and she loved the feeling even though she was a little fearful and always alert. She gripped the wheel and squinted. She needed better sun glasses. Another vessel was coming straight for them from seaward. No problem, just turn the wheel to starboard, the other vessel would do the same. They were approaching each other quickly and as she veered to starboard the other craft moved to port. Her pulse hitched a beat. “Drake, when we’re opposing, we both go to starboard, right?” she yelled over the wind.

  “You got it,” he said, unlatching the cooler and taking two bottles of water from it.

  Oh shit. “Drake, he’s not doing it,” her voice in the high octaves. Oh, God, what should she do? “Shit, Drake. Drake!” she yelled.

  “What the hell? Port, Twila, now!”

  Chapter Fifteen

  She cranked the wheel. A near miss as the other craft sped by.

  “Did you see anyone?” she yelled out.

  Drake scrambled up behind her. “Let me have the wheel, Twila.” They exchanged positions and Drake swung the boat around in a wide arc. He hit the throttles to catch up, and she fell back in the seat. Looking down, seeing she was all right, he put his gaze on the other vessel. “Did you see anyone when we passed?”

  “No.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “Do you think they’re in trouble?” Twila kneeled on her seat as they caught up to the other vessel. Drake brought them up close, and they both scanned from stem to stern.

  “Take the wheel, Twila. You’re gonna keep her steady and maintain the same speed.”

  “Drake are you sure about this?”

  “As soon as I make the jump, veer off to port, but try to maintain the speed until I give you a sign.”

  “Okay.” She edged the vessel to starboard and swung a look behind her as Drake waited to make the jump into the back of the other boat. He motioned for her to get closer. She did it carefully, in increments. Her heart leaped when Drake jumped. As he ordered, she veered to port and put some distance between them, but kept her speed up. She kept darting looks and catching Drake in her peripheral vision. He disappeared for a second and then the other vessel slowed down. Drake was talking on the radio, when he put the mic down, he waved to her and she motored over to hearing distance.