Page 73 of Tell It To The Waves

“He found something out last night, and he thinks he can use this secret to call them off.” Baylee says.

“What secret?”

“I don’t know; he didn’t say.”

My mind is spinning with everything I learned that we both just walk around the thrift store in a daze. Until I come to the antique headboard I saw all those weeks ago. Forgoing what she just told me, I find the older lady and flag her down. I can tell she recognizes me. “Changed your mind, I see.”

“Nothing is ever set in stone.” I smile at her.

By the time I walk out of the thrift store, I’m now the owner of an antique headboard that will be delivered sometime today.

Once outside, the town is buzzing with everyone getting off work. “What do you have planned?” Baylee asks me.

“I think I’m going to run to the store and get some ingredients and go to the shop. I want to bake. I need to bake. Try some things out and see what I like best.”

“I love you. We are having dinner tonight at Kai’s parents'. It’s going to be hard to not say anything, but Kai and I both have to keep our mouths shut. This is unnecessary stress for Mr. Westmore and, hell, Mrs. Westmore.

“I agree.” I hug Baylee goodbye, and now I’m itching to start baking.

“I think I got too much,” I huff out to myself while pushing the front door open with my foot, hands full of bags, scurrying across the concrete floor to throw everything on the counter. My arms were screaming from the tightness that was hanging from them.

Two more trips and I’m finally done, falling in the middle of the floor, laying on my back, looking at the ceiling. Thankfully, I was able to get the baking sheets I needed and a mixer, which was way overpriced for a non-name brand, but it’ll be my backup when I bring my pride and joy to the shop.

While laying on the floor, I envision an enormous piece of driftwood hanging from the ceiling, with maybe some fairy lights around it. I smile, liking that idea, an ode to Driftwood Bay.

I turn my head to the left, looking outside and knowing that if someone peaked in right now, what they would see. And I laugh.

Forcing myself off the floor, I make my way into the kitchen, opening the ovens and making sure there isn’t anything in them before I preheat.

Making quick work of it, I bring all the ingredients into the kitchen, lining them up and turning on my phone, needing music to fill this place.

Once I’m done washing the new baking sheets and utensils, I measure out my dry ingredients, lost in my own world, swaying to the music.

With the chocolate chip cookies and snickerdoodles in the oven, I start my batter for my great-grandma’s chocolate cake.Tossing around names that I can call in on the menu, and only coming up with GG’s. “Clever, August,” I mumble to myself.

I Can Do It With A Broken Heartby Taylor Swift shuffles on, and in a moment, I’m standing hand mixing, and in the next, I have the whisk up to my mouth, singing. On the chorus, I spin around and scream, dropping the chocolate-covered whisk to the ground, chocolate going everywhere. Bohdi stands against the wall, watching me.

I shut my eyes, mortified, slowly opening them to his smiling face. “You just barge in wherever you want?” I ask, sounding like a brat.

He hikes his thumb over his shoulder. “I was out there calling your name, but you didn’t hear me. I heard the concert going on in here and, well, I was mesmerized by your singing.” Bohdi bites his lip.

“You’re so funny,” I tell him, bending down and picking up the dirty whisk. Straightening up, I look at Bohdi; he looks different, not him per se, but his energy. He looks lighter. Raising my eyebrows, “What do you need?”

He pushes off the wall. “I saw the light on while I was turning to go to the bed-and-breakfast and then saw your car. Wanted to stop and say hi.” He pulls in his bottom lip, closing the gap between us.

“Well, I’m here. I needed to bake, got too much inside me and you know the way I let it out.”

“I knew a few ways you used to let it out.” He smiles at me.

Rolling my eyes, I turn to grab the bowl of chocolate cake batter, but my hands don’t pick it up because I feel Bohdi right behind me, so close he’s touching me. My eyes close on their own. “Bohdi,” I groan out his name because I don’t have willpower when it comes to him.

Opening my eyes, I watch his hand come around me to the bowl, bringing it to him. I can feel him step back before I turnaround, my back to the counter. I watch him as he dips his index finger into the batter, coming out with a glob of chocolate and slowly opening his mouth before his lips close around his finger, sucking it off. He moans, and I moan. He smiles at me, his teeth around his finger. His eyes show he knows exactly what the hell he is doing, as my mind screams What is he doing here.

My gaze follows his every move, dipping his finger back into the batter, then placing it right in front of my mouth. “Taste it, August,” he whispers to me, his eyes full of mischief.

I moan, my mouth lightly parts, hands squeezing onto the countertop behind me. I open my mouth wider, my tongue gently poking out, sliding his chocolate-covered finger over my top lip and down to my tongue, which I cocoon around his finger, letting my lips fully close around him, sucking the sweetness from it. Bohdi hisses and lets out a little moan when I add pressure with my teeth. My heart is pounding, while my brain tries to reason with me.

Pulling my head back, his finger makes a pop when I release it from my mouth. We both stand there looking at each other, panting, wanting but scared. Scared by the past hurt we both inflicted on the other. My eyes hood, arousal flowing through me. At this moment, I would give it all up for one more time with him, and that’s the sad and scary part.