Beauty (A Midsummer Suspense Tale) (5 page)

Even the smallest movement, to lean back a bit or take a sip of his beer, displayed strength from broad shoulders and sculpted arms. Heat moved up Bryar’s cheeks as she realized she was staring and she looked away. Weird that no one else was talking to him—a couple of the girls there that night would climb the first warm body they found—but the party was already in full swing and perhaps no one had gotten a good look at him.

She set her beer bottle in the sand, held between the toes of her shoes, and fished the second small bottle of whiskey from her jacket pocket. She offered one to the guy and kept the other for herself. Not like Dennis over there didn’t have more tucked away.

“To improve your long day,” she said by way of an explanation.

He took the bottle. “Day began with a hangover—I swore I’d end it sober so it didn’t repeat tomorrow.”

“I won’t share the next one, I promise,” she said with a smirk.

His gaze swept over her, intense pale eyes driving heat along her skin everywhere he glanced. Beneath her leather jacket and T-shirt, she felt her nipples tighten and goose bumps spread across her skin. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with her? He wasn’t the only good-looking guy around and she was far from a virgin.

Maybe it was just a combination of a mysterious stranger and the alcohol buzzing through her system. Or the lingering anger from earlier in the evening, fighting with her aunts. Plenty of emotions, lots of energy to burn off, and the perfect place to focus it all.

She looked away. He was probably waiting there for a girlfriend or something.

After downing the mini bottle of whiskey—which he did as well—she picked her beer back up. “I’m Bryar.”

He hesitated a moment, drawing her attention back to him. He watched her oddly, like he wasn’t sure if he should say something or not. It just made her introduction seem all the more awkward and she cursed herself for jumping in with it.

“Sawyer,” he said at last.

The way he hesitated, she wondered if he was giving her a fake name. But then she realized she didn’t actually
care
.

One of the girls dancing off to the side—where marijuana smoke hovered—paused to lean over the iPod on the ground and fumbled with the buttons. Moments later the song switched to some pop thing Bryar didn’t recognize. A wall of sound, mostly synthesized instruments, and a group of male vocals—God, she hated boy bands.

Sawyer was staring at the iPod with a frown as well. At least they had that much in common.

“You hate it too?” she asked. When he glanced sharply her way, she indicated the direction the music came from. “Not much choice—he who brings the pod controls the tunes.”

He fought a smile around the lip of his bottle of beer before taking a sip. “What do you listen to?”

“Oh...” She shrugged. “Nothing from this decade. I still do
records
, if you can believe that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. When I was a kid, one of my aunts was going to get rid of her whole collection in a yard sale but I ended up getting it. Then I started going to the second hand store to get more. Sixties, seventies, eighties. Bit of everything. You?”

“Bit of everything too. I have to admit, I
am
rather sick of pop music. And impressed you still have a record player that works.”

Bryar grinned. “There’s a shop in town that’s fixed it for me twice now. Tried once to get me to buy a CD player and then last time to get an iPod.”

“Didn’t work?”

“Nope. If I can’t play a record on it, I don’t want it.”

“I like that philosophy.” His smile was open and warm, and she found herself grinning in return. “Did your aunt ever regret giving the collection up? Most people do, I think.”

“Nah, she regrets she didn’t actually sell it to someone else—I know all the albums she hates and play them when I’m mad.” She winced then and took a quick swig of her beer. “Shit, I just admitted I still live at home, didn’t I? I’m that cool chick who listens to records and still doesn’t have her own place. Or a car.”

Sawyer laughed, but it was a kind chuckle—the type that warmed her nerves rather than made her feel like he was mocking her. “I currently live with my sister and her husband.”

“Ah. Good. Tell me, do you also only have a part time job?”

“I...suppose you could say I’m between projects at the moment.”

“So unemployed. We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

He grinned in response. “So where do you work?”

“The bakery in town, Gina’s?” She scanned his expression, searched for any sign he knew the place, but he clearly was drawing a blank. So wherever his sister and brother-in-law lived, either they were new to the area or he hadn’t visited much. Everyone in Midsummer knew Gina’s. “As of today, at least. Just hired. Gina’s sells the best food in town.”

“I’ll have to keep an eye out for it.”

She almost believed him, except for how his gaze skipped away from hers. Oh well. Maybe he didn’t like sweets. Maybe it was just a line and he wasn’t sticking around in town that long.

She found herself watching him again, the desire to run her fingers along his jawline almost causing her to reach for him. Her grip tightened on the bottle of beer instead, squeezing it to keep from doing something stupid. His eyes lifted again to hers, locking on, and energy seemed to crackle between them like the sparks from the bonfire just feet away.

The ensuing silence was interrupted by a pair of young women who strolled over from the other side of the bonfire, one carting a blunt, one with a beer, and both giggling. Their eyes were on Sawyer—Bryar didn’t think they’d glanced at her even once, like she might as well be invisible next to him.

The first, the one with the marijuana, dropped herself down in the sand in front of him, tossing back her long blonde hair tied in dozens of braids and taking in a toke. The second sat on Sawyer’s other side, almost draping herself across him.

“So we haven’t seen you here before,” Blonde Braids said. Bryar was pretty sure her name was Amber or Anna or something like that.

“But you look kind of familiar—do you know Jake?” The second was a brunette, or maybe a redhead—it was hard to tell in the low light that was already coloring everything copper. She leaned close, her full lips stained dark red widening into an encouraging smile.

Bryar chewed at the inside of her mouth in annoyance. She wanted to tell them to back the hell off but they’d only been talking a few minutes—it wasn’t like she had a claim on him. Still, it was kinda
rude
to walk over and interrupt people.

She expected Sawyer to eat up the attention but instead he looked away, his shoulders tensing and hands squeezing his bottle of beer just a bit tighter.

“I don’t know any Jake,” he said swiftly. “I must look like someone else.”

“Really familiar,” the blonde said, and extended the joint his way. “Want?”

“Uh, not tonight, thanks.” Then he looked at Bryar, eyes intense and locked on hers. “Want to go for a walk?”

For a moment, she blinked mutely at him. Two hot stoned girls were practically throwing themselves at him and he was sticking with
her
? Granted, she wasn’t hideous by any stretch, and she’d had her fair share of boyfriends and that. But she never quite fit right with other people, and of all the girls here this kind of guy could be hanging with, she didn’t expect it to be her.

She also had a petty streak, so she quite happily smiled and said loudly. “I absolutely would love to.” She gave the other girls—whose mouths had dropped in surprised little “o”s—a quick grin, and stood with Sawyer. They moved away from the others, and Bryar made sure their arms brushed so it was quite apparent they were exiting together. Granted, it wasn’t as possessive and lame as grabbing his hand, but she was sure it had the intended effect.

On the way past the bonfire, Bryar scooped up another pair of beers and handed one to Sawyer. They left the two girls in their wake and he didn’t look back at them. Both were pretty, friendly—a little odd that he had no interest in them, but he barely gave them a second glance.

They walked in companionable silence, just the voices behind them and the water moving restlessly over the shore ahead. The sand made for rough walking but with no destination in mind, it didn’t matter. Sawyer seemed to relax the farther they got from the others. Bryar similarly felt better—despite thinking she needed to get lost in the presence of others tonight after the fight with her aunts, she was actually glad it was just the two of them. Drinking and smoking up with acquaintances wasn’t really what she needed.

And what
do
you need, Bryar Rosings
? The hell if she knew, but a glance at Sawyer and she was starting to form an idea or two.

“I didn’t even ask—were you meeting anyone there? Friends expecting you?” Sawyer glanced at her.

“Nah. I came out here tonight thinking a few drinks and random people would improve the day but I got there and just found everyone kind of irritating. Present company excluded, of course. You?”

“No, I didn’t know anyone there.”

She bumped her elbow against his arm playfully. “So you just randomly show up at small town beach parties with stoned college kids?”

Sawyer chuckled. “Everyone needs a hobby.”

Though she didn’t openly remark on it—and was pleased with that, since she normally blurted out everything that crossed her mind—she found it a little strange. Most people who randomly showed up not knowing anyone did so to mooch weed or booze. Hell, that’s why she crashed the random party. But he was definitely sober. And if he’d just been looking to get laid, he’d left a couple of willing participants back at the bonfire.

Again her gaze was drawn to him, to those smart eyes that were pale in the silver light above. They were the type to really
look
at a person, to see them, not just glance, evaluate, and move on. He had a certain...
steadiness
to him in that regard. When he looked at her, she felt his attention fully—felt it right in her bones. A little disconcerting but certainly not a bad feeling.

Who the hell
was
this guy?

Moonlight glinted over the water, giving it the look of ripping glass. Bryar nodded at the water. “If it was summer, they’d be skinny dipping by now.”

“Is it really that cold now?”

She gave him a skeptical look. “Um,
yeah
.”

He arched a brow. “Chicken?”

“Never. But I’m practicing being sensible now that I’m employed and shit—I’m not heading in
there
in this temperature.”

Sawyer stopped, drained his beer bottle, and began unlacing his shoes.

Bryar shook her head and tugged her jacket tighter around her as she watched him. His shoes went, then his socks, then he stripped off his button down shirt. Goddamn, he was
serious
.

Next he grasped the hem of his T-shirt and drew it up, over his head. Cast it aside. Her gaze was drawn over his torso, just as well-cut as she’d suspected yet so much more delicious in the proverbial flesh. Her fingers twitched, longing to run over his defined pecs and muscles, the urge so strong it brought a sudden flush of embarrassment to her cheeks.

He was unbuttoning his jeans without seeming to notice her staring and she realized it was true, he
entirely
meant to hop in the water in this weather, totally naked.

“You’re insane,” she informed him.

“Well...” He let his pants drop, leaving just him in his boxers. He took a few steps toward the lake, where waves slapped the water, and cast a look at her over his shoulder. “As long as I’m not
alone
in my insanity.”

And with that, he slipped off his boxers and tossed them to the sand, then waded in the water.

Bryar stood back for a moment to enjoy the view—his strong muscled legs and that firm ass. And she debated. Sawyer had brought a much needed dose of distraction to her evening and she hated to bail on that. The only thing more awkward than skinning dipping with a guy she’d just met was
not
skinny dipping with a guy she’d just met but instead standing there on the beach like an idiot.

Desire and anticipation heated her blood, rushed adrenaline through her. She squared her shoulders and slipped off her leather jacket.

****

Sawyer was up to his waist in the icy water, goose bumps prickling his skin. The cold gave him a rush, the shock of it clearing his brain and giving him a needed jolt. For the first time in ages, he felt refreshed. Part of that likely had to do with present company—he liked Bryar. Not just to look at, though that was certainly part of it. But she was genuine. He was more than certain now she didn’t know who he was and it wasn’t some kind of scam. Whatever her history was, she was out of the loop where he was concerned.

She wouldn’t have made a face when encountering his band’s music otherwise—that reaction was completely honest, he was sure. Suppressing a chuckle at it had not been easy.

He glanced over his shoulder, ready to tease her again, and stopped dead in the water.

She’d stripped off the jacket and her shoes. Jeans were coming next, her slender fingers working at the button and zipper. She eased them off her hips, wiggling in a rather tantalizing way to get them over her thighs. Her eyes met his, one brow arched to suggest she’d meet any challenge he gave her.

He’d have to file that bit of info away for later.

Despite the temperature of the water, his body was responding as he watched her slip off her T-shirt, leaving her in a bra and panties. Both were cotton and simple, unmatching, and it was a refreshing kind of simplicity to it. Just a normal girl who hadn’t planned on getting naked, now revealing herself boldly. Not that there was a way to remain gentlemanly at this stage of the game, but still he tried to hold her gaze as she unhooked her bra and let it fall to the sand. Next she looped her thumbs through her panties and worked those down too.

Gentlemanly. Right. He failed entirely.

His gaze swept over her, taking in her high full breasts and narrow waist that flared into small hips. The moonlight arched a pale silver line along her body, tracing her the way his fingers itched to.