“Rick?”

“Naw—Randy. I haven’t seen Rick for a while. Last I heard from Randy, Rick was living somewhere outside Houston.”

Her mouth tightened. “Me neither. Not that either of them were geniuses, but I’da never thought Randy would turn out the levelheaded one of them two. He was one crazy motherfucker, and now he’s selling T-shirts and making jewelry.”

A guy two stools down was trying to get her attention by waving and clearing his throat.

“Well. Enough reminiscing—I got drunks to serve.”

“Hey!” the guy said.

“Keep your shorts on, sweetie—I’m coming.” She slapped the bar. “See you tomorrow, Boyce. Oh—Jesus, I almost forgot! My great-great-aunt—the one who runs the inn? Her front-desk girl is preggers, and she’s just been put on bed rest. She needs somebody smart who presents well, won’t steal shit, and can work weekends. I figured Pearl fit that, so I called Aunt Minnie and she was all over it. Tell her to stop by tomorrow if she’s interested.”

• • • • • • • • • •

By the time I returned home, it was raining. The trailer windows were dark, so I toed my boots off on the stoop and went inside in wet socks. Pearl was asleep on the sofa, sheet pushed to her waist, wearing one of her old dance troupe T-shirts. I couldn’t resist the urge to wander closer and stare at her for one short minute. Curled on her side, knees tucked high and hands folded below her chin, she sighed in her sleep. Her hair was loose and wild, covering the white pillowcase.

Goddamn Brittney and her talk of rings and babies when just trying to get this girl to be seen in public with me was as good as repeatedly bashing my head against the wall. When I could lose everything I’d built in the two shakes it would take Barney Amos to find the mother who left me with a man who talked with his fists.

• • • • • • • • • •

When I woke, I assumed it was because of the crack of thunder that shook the trailer, and I turned onto my side, prepared to sink back into sleep and hoping this shit let up before five a.m. Otherwise, my fishing plans were screwed.

The flash of lightning seconds later lit my room through the open blinds of the single window. One second, maybe two—just long enough for me to catch sight of the figure in the doorway.

“Pearl?” I leaned up on an elbow.

“Is it always this loud during storms? Or should we be concerned?” Her voice was reed-thin.

Dr. Frank’s place was a stone fortress compared to this tin box that was designed to be pulled off its foundation, loaded onto a set of wheels, and moved on a whim. Besides that, the Frank place was on the bay side of the island. They didn’t get the brunt of storms rolling in from the gulf like my neighborhood did.

“It’s always this loud. Nothing to be worried about.” Just as I said that, thunder from that last strike roared and the vibrations shook the floor. Pearl jumped visibly, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “C’mere.” I scooted into the center of the bed and held the sheet up.

She hesitated, wheels grinding away in that brain of hers. I couldn’t accuse her of overthinking. I wanted her, and I could tell she wanted me from the looks she’d been trying to mask over the past week. I was all but daring her to cross that line and let me give us both what we wanted. I wouldn’t make the first move, though, even if she joined me. The power of whether we just fell asleep or whether I kept her wide-awake for the next hour or three was in her hands.

I wouldn’t make the first move, but I’d damn sure make the second.

Lightning lit the room again—several seconds of it—multiple strikes. The next crash of thunder would rattle the walls for half a minute straight. She paused for all of about one second before crossing the room and sliding under the sheet, but she hugged the edge of the mattress with her back to me, no part of her body touching mine. She curled up like she had been on the sofa, waiting for that first loud, angry clap and the echoing bellow just behind it.

I dropped the sheet over her just as the boom came like a rifle shot, transforming into a wind-powered rumble that rocked the trailer and everything in it. By the time the last of it faded, her back was pressed against my chest, her hips tucked against my abdomen. My arm lay across her rib cage, but my hand rested against the mattress in front of her. I made no move to reposition closer or farther away. A few more similar strikes ensured she didn’t leave, though none were as bad as the two or three that had sent her scurrying to my door.

Just as I was sure we would drift off to sleep, she shifted onto her back and turned her face toward mine. I hardened instantly but didn’t move as we stared at each other. The hums and aftershocks of wind and rain went on outside—more lightning, more thunder—but it was moving on up the coast and none of it seemed to trouble her now.

She made another quarter-turn, facing me full on, and I swear I’d never held myself so still. Finger on the trigger, I waited, motionless, for her clear signal.

Her fingertips stretched up and curved against my cheek. Not yet.

Her warm lips touched the edge of my jaw with a barely there kiss. Close.

The pad of her foot skimmed along my shin, bare toes trailing down, and she angled herself alongside me tip to toe, cradling my rigid, hungry dick against her belly like a welcome home. Almost.

My hand drifted to her back, my fingers charting a careful path through her T-shirt as I drew her in tight, palm sliding down her spine, pressing her flush against my chest, dipping into the bow of her lower back as she released a quiet moan. When my hand slid to cup her hip, I said, “You ready?” and she nodded.