Page 38 of Some Sort of Happy (Happy Crazy Love 1)
“I have some investment income.” He ran a hand over the scruff on his jaw before going on. “My mother’s family had money. Old money. My father had no interest in it, so after she died, he and her parents set aside an inheritance for each of her children. I used some for law school and some to rebuild the cabin, but the rest is invested. I don’t like to touch it, but I have used some of the interest to live on over the last year.”
“Oh.” I wondered if his mother’s death was too painful to talk about. “Were you close to your mom?”
He nodded before taking a deep breath. “I was only eight when she died. As painful as the last year of my life has been, it doesn’t come close to that loss. Nothing ever will.” His voice broke a little, and my heart did too.
“It’s a good thing we’re driving because I really want to hug you right now and I can’t.”
He gave me a threatening look. “You stay in that seatbelt.”
I winked at him. “For now.”
We drove in silence for a few minutes, and when we passed Chateau Rivard I couldn’t resist flipping Miranda Rivard the bird again, even though she couldn’t see it. Sebastian laughed.
“Sorry,” I said, although I wasn’t really.
“That’s OK. I did a lot worse after I got fired.”
“The worst thing was that I actually liked that job. Doing tastings, giving tours of the chateau and vineyard, talking to people about the wines and the area. I had some ideas for the place too.”
He glanced at me. “What kind of ideas?”
“Design ideas. I wanted to modernize the place a little, but there was resistance, and I wasn’t there long enough to convince them.”
“Maybe you’d like something in marketing or PR, then.”
“Maybe.” A little hope bubbled up inside of me, although marketing and PR sounded like something I’d need a degree for. “But I don’t have any real experience or skills. I just know what looks nice. Or at least what I think looks nice.”
“Skylar, anyone who meets you knows you have good taste. I think you’d be great at a job like that. You just need to market yourself confidently and find the right one.”
Pleasure swelled inside me at his compliments, at his confidence in me. I wished I had it in myself. “Thanks. I’ll give it some thought.”
When we reached the cabin, we hauled the boat down to the dock and put it in the water. It was late afternoon but the sun was still high in the sky, and air was hot and still, just a slight breeze off the bay. I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my arm while Sebastian tied the boat to the dock.
“I wish I’d have grabbed my bathing suit. The water looks good.”
He looked up at me with a doubtful smile. “You’d swim? It’s a warm day, but the water’s still pretty cold.”
I lifted my chin. “I’m a brave little toaster. Hey, do you have any sunscreen?”
He straightened up. “Yes. Bathroom drawer on the bottom right.”
“Thanks.” Inside, I fought the urge to rifle through Sebastian’s entire bathroom cabinet to learn more about him. I opened only the bottom right drawer, which was very neat and contained sunscreen, shaving cream, razors, and bar soap. Using the mirror over the sink, I applied some SPF 30 to my face, arms, and legs, and brought it outside with me to offer some to Sebastian.
Oh fuck. He took off his shirt.
My belly backhandspringed repeatedly as I approached the dock, where he was loading the paddles into the boat. Natalie hadn’t exaggerated; Sebastian was ripped. He was tall and slender, so it wasn’t an obnoxious sort of ripped, but the curves and lines on his body made my breath come faster. His skin was as beautiful as his bone structure—golden and smooth.
“Want some of this?” I asked, holding up the sunscreen. Or some of this? I thought, refraining from patting my ass.
“Nah. I don’t mind the sun.”
“Sebastian! You have great skin. You should be nicer to it. Here, let me.” Hahaha, fucking genius! Hiding a smile, I flipped the lid and squirted some into my hand. “Turn around.”
He sighed, but did as I requested, and I put my hands on his upper back. Biting my lip, I slowly rubbed the sunscreen into his skin, sliding my palms across his broad shoulders and along the back of his neck. I stayed well away from the waistband of his faded red shorts, but I did notice his blue plaid boxers peeking out above it. My stomach contracted.
“OK. Front.”
Slowly, he turned to face me, and I swear I was just going to offer him the tube to do it himself, but the combination of his face and those glasses and the stubbled jaw and the sculpted chest and the abs—THE ABS—overpowered me. I nearly moaned aloud, imagining how those muscles would flex as he moved above me.
