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  Did I have a sign on my forehead? This Girl Is In Need Of A Fun Time. Jesus! Old guy gave me a lopsided grin, while he rubbed his thigh. My good buddy Bitter was waving a red flag wildly. We both knew no good could come from talking with an overweight, middle aged man with a penchant for drinking hard liquor in the middle of the day.

  “No, thank you, sir—that would be against club policy.” I started to walk away when he jumped from his chair and grabbed my forearm. His other arm reached over to massage my ass and the young mom behind me gasped.

  I tried to move away, but he pulled me closer. “Where do you think you’re going, doll?”

  Quickly, a large hand wrapped over his shoulder and I looked up to see Landon with a fierce expression on his face. “That’s enough, Mr. Wright. Please let go of Emma. She needs to go check on the pumps.” I took my opportunity and pulled away as Mr. Wright went stumbling into Landon. Mr. Wright was not a little man, easily pushing two hundred and fifty lbs., but Landon stood like a brick wall, not even flinching as Wright tried to push him away.

  What happened next was so quick I almost missed it. As Wright lunged at Landon, Landon stepped to the side, causing Wright to topple head first into the pool. He was in the deep end, so there was no chance of a head injury, and Landon and I watched and waited for him come up for air.

  Except, he didn’t.

  Instead, he panicked and flailed under the water, disoriented. Before I could even react, Landon was in the water behind Wright. Landon quickly hooked his arms underneath Wright’s and towed him to the side of the pool. I helped pull Wright out of the water as he choked and gasped for air.

  His friends helped Wright to his feet, and, looking mortified, he denied emergency services and left the pool area quickly and quietly. Landon handed me a towel, and we headed to the guard house.

  Life Lesson: Drunk middle aged men suck.

  Landon looked at me with concern. “Are you okay, Emma?”

  I tried to contain myself, but I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. “That was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time. Talk about getting what you deserve. That was awesome!” I wiped at my eyes, wet from my excessive snickering, and sat down on the couch.

  Landon chuckled too, and pulled a water bottle from his bag. “It was pretty funny. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “What I’m not okay with is how a jerk like that is still a member here? I don’t know much about country clubs, but I wouldn’t think they tolerate behavior like that.”

  “I hear you. Wright acts up all the time, and they can’t get rid of him. His Grandaddy started the place and now Wright’s on the board. They’ll fine him for this incident, like they have for many others, but he’s rich as shit. Doesn’t stop him.” My look of disgust must have amused Landon, as he winked his agreement before taking a long drink of water.

  “You’d better prepare yourself,” he continued, sitting on the sofa. “This club hasn’t had a lifeguard that looks like you in, well, as long as I’ve worked here. The drunk old men, drunk young men, and all the teenage boys will be after you.”

  My brow furrowed as I drank my can of pop. “What do you mean?”

  “Emma, how old are you? I’d think you’re old enough to be aware of how attractive you are. You look like a model. I mean, except for the fact that you’re way too short.” He winked at me again when I scowled at his comment. “You’re gorgeous—and you know it. These guys can’t get it up at home, but when they see you—well… it’s on.”

  I cleared my throat. I was anything but a model, and I didn’t appreciate being objectified. At five-foot-three, I was on the short side, but I worked out, so I had a decent figure. But that was it. “I’m twenty-one. How old are you?”

  Landon smiled coyly, no doubt happy for his own attention. “Nineteen. Going into my sophomore year at Indiana University. Where are you in school?”

  “I graduated early from the University of Virginia.” I looked down, not wanting to get into my personal details.

  “Why the hell would anyone leave college early? They are the best years of our lives, right?” He chuckled smugly as he continued, “I mean, I know it’s the ACC, but it’s not that bad!”

  I stood up, needing to signal the next shift change and met his gaze with angry irritation. “It’s not the best time for all of us. Not all of us have Daddy to fall back on while we party through college. Some people have bigger problems.”

  With that I tore out of the room. I spent the rest of the weekend making sure no more drunk assholes fell into the pool, and avoiding Landon.

  Correction... Let’s rephrase that one.

  ***

  ONE OF THE perks of working at the Country Club of Avon was free use of its gym in the clubhouse before the pool opened. I was running on the treadmill, listening to Justin Timberlake on my iPhone, when Landon walked in.

  Without a shirt. Holy crap.

  He nodded at me and straddled the weight bench. I watched him in the mirror as I ran and was captivated by the focus and intensity he put into lifting weights. No wonder he was chiseled like a Greek sculpture.

  Landon was a grunter. Normally this turned my stomach; I was always convinced it was for show and to try and get us girls in the gym to think the guy lifting was badass when he was clearly not. But in this case, I truly thought it couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t showing off; he was pushing himself to the absolute limit. His body began to shake as he finished the repetitions and sweat rolled down his chest.

  Did he grunt like that during sex? Would his arms shake after holding himself up? It would be after going at it for a long, long time because, come on, a guy like that had to have some stamina. I licked my lips subconsciously and closed my eyes for a moment. Why in the hell was I thinking that?

  Shit. I tripped and almost fell off the treadmill. Stupid Emma.

  A loud guttural sound, a cross between the mating call of a hump back whale and a terrified cow, escaped from deep in my lungs before I had a chance to stop it. Horrified, I slapped my hand across my, now gaping, mouth.

  Shut up. Dear God, what idiot runs with their damn eyes closed? A quiet chuckle came from behind me and I stiffened. Great. He heard me and probably saw me. Did he think I was watching him? Thinking about him? Tripping because the mere sight of him caused me to become unbalanced? If so, he’d be right. I shook my head and forced myself to focus.

  Finishing my run, I mopped off my sweat, drank from my water bottle, and tried to ignore the nervous energy pulsing through me. I wanted to slap myself. I was having a physical reaction to just being near him. My traitorous, stupid damn body was horny!

  What was wrong with me? It wasn’t the first time I’d been around a cute guy. They never got to me or made me feel unsure of my desires or excited in any way. But, being in a small, hot space with Landon had me completely off-kilter.

  It had to be sexual frustration. That was the only possible explanation for my lack of sanity. It had been a wicked long time since I’d been touched by a guy. I attempted to stop essentially eye-fucking this guy, who was basically a stranger to me, and get my lustful thoughts under control.

  “Hi there, short stuff. Mind if I join you?” Landon sat next to me on the mat. Beads of sweat clung to him like even the sweat knew this was the human to be stuck too. Tribal band tattoos wrapped around both upper arms and a number was tattooed on the left side of his chest.

  I never liked tattoos until today. They were too permanent, too attention getting, and too expensive—but I was instantly attracted to them on him. Giving my best stink eye for his comment about my height, I nodded, trying to appear as cool and unaffected by his presence as possible. He pulled up a mat next to me and began crunches.

  Even covered in perspiration, Landon smelled delicious. It was a natural woodsy smell that was amazingly arousing. He moved into full sit ups, grunting again, and my pulse raced. I tried to look away, but I was mesmerized, for just a second.

  “Like what you see?” he said
breathless, as I turned away, mortified.

  “You know what, Landon? You really think you’re hot shit, don’t you?” I jumped up and brushed off my sweat roughly with a towel.

  “What’s your deal? You walk around here like the Ice Queen. No one is out to get you. Relax. Have fun. It’s fucking summer.” Landon had stopped his sit ups and was watching me with a look that could only be described as part irritation, part diversion.

  “Go to hell. You know nothing about me or my life. All you care about is flirting with high school girls. It’s disgusting, really.” Gathering my bag and water bottle, I huffed out of the weight room. But Landon was right about three things. It was summer, I was acting like a bitch, and no one was out to get me. But I sure as hell didn’t need him to teach me a lesson. Who did he think he was? Nineteen years old with a God complex. I was pissed that he had gotten under my skin so damn quickly.

  The question that most baffled me was, why?

  My favorite part of the job as a lifeguard had always been teaching swimming lessons. I spent an entire summer when I was nine years old teaching my sister, Evie, to swim. She was twelve at the time, and we went to the tiny concrete pool in our apartment complex every afternoon that summer. It took me about two hours a day, every day, for over a month, but she finally did it. She could swim a lap and tread water. She was so proud of herself when she passed the swim test and was able to use the diving board. She never seemed to resent her younger sister being the one to teach her. She was merely happy to feel safe and comfortable in the water—just like the other kids. Since then, I’d taught swim lessons to people of all ages.

  I was working with a group of four year olds in the shallow end of the pool while Landon guarded in a nearby chair. We practiced kicking, blowing bubbles, floating on our backs, and jumping in—all the basics. They were so scared, so excited, and so unbelievably cute.

  I couldn’t help but feel their joy as I laughed along with them and experienced the first time learning to swim through their eyes. I hugged each one after the lesson and took time to tell their parents what they had excelled in that day. The look of pride on those tiny faces warmed my otherwise tepid heart.

  After the lesson, Landon tapped me on the shoulder before switching guard chairs with me. “Hey—I loved watching you with them. You should laugh more. It’s really a beautiful thing, Em.”

  I nodded and looked away. I didn’t want him to see how much I liked it that he noticed something about me—that he noticed me at all. I physically tried not to smile and laugh in public. If I felt a smile coming on, because maybe a baby cooed at me, or something ridiculously cute like that, I would remind myself to not react. Not to show emotion—especially positive ones. I knew that was crazy, possibly bordering on psychotic, but I never wanted to open up to anyone. No one could know how vulnerable I really was inside.

  And if I acted like a bitch, everyone would stay away from me. People let me down more often than not, so it wasn’t worth the time or effort. Just ask Bitter.

  I hated to admit it, but I also loved that he called me ‘Em’. It sounded irresistible coming from him and I had never had a nickname before. No one had ever really cared, or knew me well enough, to make one. Maybe there was more to him than I thought?

  Or maybe not. From my spot in the guard chair later that day, I saw the bleached blond girls dressed in tiny sundresses approach Landon from the parking lot. Technically, he was on break, but those girls weren’t members. They giggled, throwing their arms around him to kiss his cheeks and hug him.

  He was an inveterate flirt. He whispered in their ears, rubbed their backs, and laughed along with them, paying just enough attention to each girl to make her think she was the one in the group that had his eye. I forced my attention back to the water, hating that I was bothered by his flirtations. Landon was an arrogant jerk—why did I care what or who, to be more accurate, he did in his free time?

  When my rotation in the chair was over, I caught Landon’s eye and motioned him to come over. Landon waved goodbye to his girlfriends and approached me with a cocky grin. “Emma? What can I do for you?”

  Exhaling loudly, I looked to the heavens above, begging for patience. “Well, Landon, you could start by not allowing your non-member girlfriends to come to your place of work. How about that? All I need is the club’s General Manager on my ass because the parking lot has become the Landon Washington groupie meeting place.” I whipped around, storming toward the pump room, which was attached to the back of the guard house. I needed to check on the system, but, really, I needed a minute to gather myself.

  Once again, I found my self-control slipping around Landon. Letting him know I was irritated watching him flirt with those girls was going to be a problem. I had to get my shit straight.

  Landon followed me into the pump room and shut the door behind us. I turned and found him leaning against the wall, baseball cap turned backwards, bare-chested, and smelling of sunscreen. Why did he have to be so… Tall? Built? Handsome? Naturally yummy smelling? Ugh. I was painfully aware of how close these quarters were.

  “What do you want?” I turned back to the pump to log the water flow numbers.

  He took a step closer. Still behind me, but he placed his hands against the wall on either side of my body. I was caged in, without being touched at all. My eyes closed involuntarily, and I relished the feeling of his body heat. I inhaled loudly through my nose. The goal was to sound annoyed. Really I was breathing him in and loving every single second of it.

  “I get it. I know I’m out of your league.” My eyes popped open. Out of MY league? WTF? Although he may have been, or okay absolutely was, the hottest guy I had ever been this close to, I was just as sure he was also one of the biggest jackasses. I saw how he acted around girls. He was not one of the good guys.

  “So, I don’t hold out any hope you will go out with me. But flirting really is harmless, darlin’. It seems to make you angry when I flirt with you or anyone else. I don’t know what guy has hurt you this badly, but don’t punish the rest of us.”

  Landon took a stray piece of my hair and carefully tucked it behind my ear as he spoke. I held my breath. Just that small amount of contact had my mind spinning. What would happen if I turned around and shifted so our lips were closer together? Would he kiss me? Would I like it? I sighed. It was hard to be so close to him.

  “Flirting isn’t the end of the world. It’s not serious. Let go a little.” As he said the last words, he leaned even closer to my back. I tensed as he kissed my cheek lightly. Then he turned around and left without another word.

  Taking a deep breath, I realized I was shaking. All over. Whether it was from his perfect analysis of my issues, without knowing me at all, or my wanting him to press harder against me in the small hot room, I wasn’t sure. I only knew that none of that was going to happen. I wouldn’t let it.

  ***

  A FEW DAYS later, I walked into the club gym to find Landon running on the treadmill. He was listening to music on his iPod and his sweat-soaked shirt clung to his chest as he ran at a fast clip. I gave a half-wave, and he nodded back, focused on his workout.

  Hopping on the elliptical, I placed my buds in my ears as I started to move. Soon, I was out of breath, with sweat pouring down my neck and chest. Landon shut down his treadmill, peeled off his shirt, and dried himself with a towel. He settled down on a mat to begin abdominal crunches, and I decided to join him.

  I stepped off my machine, chugging water from my bottle, before sitting on the mat next to his. “What’s the twenty-five stand for?” I looked over at his chest and began crunching as well.

  He tapped at the number and winked at me with amusement. “Football number from high school. I was the wide receiver on our team. It’s not really a wide receiver’s number, but it was my Dad’s when he played, so it’s kinda tradition. Anyway, we went to State’s every year. I play for IU now. Not starting or anything, but hopefully one day….”

  My eyes glazed over in boredom as he dro
ned on. Why exactly was football so important to guys?

  Landon chuckled at my ambivalence about the all-American pastime. “You don’t like football?”

  “Well, we don’t watch it at my house and I guess I just don’t get what the big deal is?” I began to mirror his abdominal exercises, now working on side crunches.

  “Football’s tough, Emma. You have to be in incredible shape and have a quick mind to be successful. It’s a big commitment, physically and emotionally, and I’m proud of the work I put into it. Playing for IU has been a lifelong dream for me. I spent a lot of time training for that opportunity.” I looked away from him, feeling embarrassed. I sounded rude, but his response was level and confident. He defended his sport, but he wasn’t angry at me like I would have expected.

  “Do you work out here most mornings?” I asked, hoping to change the subject, while watching Landon move on to another exercise. He adjusted my legs to help me maintain proper form as we reached for our raised feet.

  “Yeah, I like to get an early morning workout. We’re required to train all summer to stay in shape. I’d love a training partner, if you’re up for it. It’s much more fun when you’re not alone. Whaddya say, short stuff?”

  “Really? I guess I could do that... I’ve always been more of a swimmer, so I’m not sure I even know how to use some of this equipment… But I’d like to learn.” His offer was sweet and not at all what I would expect from a college jock. If he had asked me last week, I would have never considered it. But what he said to me in the pump room hit me hard. I needed to stop pushing everyone away. I wanted to stop pushing everyone away. I had finally reached the point of surrender with my life. Bitter was waving a white flag this time. I was tired of always feeling angry.