Never Say Never (Haven Harbor #3)

Chapter 6

SIX

WHAT IS HE SO MAD ABOUT?

D aisy

“I’m really glad we did this,” Will says, squeezing my hand.

“Me too. The dock party is one of my favorite nights of the year.”

A warm breeze whips over the waves, bringing a taste of the ocean with it as Will’s olive eyes meet mine. A half-moon in the sky softly illuminates the pier with the help of a few dozen string lights.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I’ve been having a good time with Will so far tonight. He texted me the day after we met at Cocina Caliente, asking if he could take me out. When I mentioned the dock party, he said he was in. We decided to meet at the restaurant at the marina for dinner and then walk over to the dock party together.

We picked up our conversation where we left off the other night, getting to know each other a little more over dinner. He talked about his family, most of whom still live in San Francisco, where Will grew up. It turns out he has an adventurous side as well—he told me all about a rock-climbing trip to Yosemite he’s planning for the spring, which sounds amazing. You’d have to be blind not to notice how handsome Will is, with his infectious smile and deep green eyes, but it turns out he’s easy to talk to as well.

Will and I are just coming out of the beer garden when I notice a familiar figure barrelling through the crowd of partiers toward us. Tucker’s hands are squeezed into tight fists at his sides as he practically pushes people out of his path.

What is he so mad about?

Will . Of course. This is textbook Tucker. He must have seen me with Will, and now he’s here to insert himself into my personal life yet again. My suspicions are confirmed when he reaches us and immediately wraps a hand around my waist, dragging me toward him. My hip presses against his thigh, and I can smell the intoxicating, woodsy scent of his cologne.

“Tuck, what the hell are you doing?” I demand, trying to ignore how good it feels being this close to him.

“Is this guy bothering you?” Will asks, eyes narrowed at Tucker.

“I’m not bothering her,” Tucker growls, glaring right back at him. “She’s family and I need to have a word with her, if you don’t mind.”

Will looks from Tucker to me. “You good?”

Tucker’s hand on my waist tightens. My pulse speeds even though it shouldn’t. I can’t remember the last time he had his hands on me like this.

I nod. “I’m good. Sorry about this.”

Tucker turns me to face him, our bodies dangerously close as people party and dance all around us. Tension thickens in the salty air.

His blue irises lock on mine and my breath catches in my throat. He’s moved us a couple of feet, putting other partygoers in between us and Will.

“Who is this guy and why have I never seen him around?”

I laugh in response. “Are you serious? Not that it’s any of your business, but I met him this week at Cocina Caliente and he’s a really nice guy. We’re having a good time—or we were until a minute ago,” I say, feeling the heat from Tucker’s body seep into mine.

His nostrils flare. “In other words, you know absolutely nothing about this guy. For all you know he could be a—”

“Drop it, Tucker!” I spit out, anger getting the best of me. “You don’t get a say. Not now. Not ever.”

“I will always get a say, Daisy.” He moves even closer so that there is only an inch of space between us. Arousal erupts in my center, and I exhale a breath, trying to keep it at bay. “What if he hurt you? Jesus, Daisy… you don’t know this guy. You’re drinking. You should know better than this.”

Rage rushes through me, and I straighten my spine and glare up at him. We’re toe-to-toe. I watch Tucker blink a couple of times before his eyes drag down my body, like he’s just noticed how close we are. I jab a finger into his chest, where it connects with hard muscle, and the contact sends a shiver over my skin. “I’m not stupid, Tucker. And I’ve had enough of the big brother act! I am a grown woman, and I am capable of making smart decisions. I will date who I want to date. I will make my own mistakes. And you don’t get a say. Leave me alone!”

Tucker scowls, and there’s a noticeable tick in his jaw that matches the pulse beating on the side of his neck. Again, that spike of arousal blooms in my belly. Tuck is hot when he’s angry and he is definitely mad right now. His hand wraps around the finger that I have stabbing into his ribs and heat hammers into my skin.

“Daisy—”

“No. I’m so done with this,” I say, exhausted by this never-ending argument with him. My eyes sting, but I manage to keep my composure. The last thing I need is for Tucker to see me cry. “You don’t listen, and I’m tired of repeating myself. Have you ever stopped to think about how these over-the-top outbursts affect me? If you weren’t such a controlling ass maybe you would see that you ruin any potential relationship I might have. Any time a guy shows a little interest in me, you show up to scare him away. And for what? Just to make me miserable?”

I extract my finger from his hand with a sigh, the anger starting to drain from my body now. “Will is a good time,” I tell him. “I’m not going to marry him, Tucker. I’m not looking for anything serious and neither is he. I’m leaving for Italy soon, and I just want to have some fun before I go.”

Tucker’s eyes go wide. “’A good time?’ What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly that. I’m not looking for anything serious right now. I’m not leaving a boyfriend behind while I’m gone.”

“Great. So, stay away from guys all together,” he says flatly. “Why do you need to have… fun?”

I shake my head in disbelief that I am having this conversation with him. “Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

“Yeah, I guess you do.”

“A girl has needs, Tuck. Guys aren’t the only ones.”

I watch as his expression changes from confusion to shock, and when he fails to say anything, I cover my face with my hands in embarrassment. He’s infuriating. I shouldn’t have admitted that. I should have just walked away. I kick myself for letting him get to me yet again.

Tucker gently peels my palms from my face and then lifts my chin so that my eyes meet his. As much as I want to look away, I can’t.

“You’re like a sister to me, and I worry about you,” he says quietly. “It would kill me if anything ever happened to you. I would pummel any guy’s ass to the ground if they did anything to hurt you.”

My spine stiffens. I’m like a sister to him. That is how Tucker sees me, and that is how he will always see me. I need to remember that.

“Look, I know what guys are like,” Tucker continues. “They want one thing. I just don’t want you to fall into that trap and get hurt.”

Slowly, I pull my hands away from his, needing to put space between us. I’m tired of the mixed-up emotions I feel when I think about Tucker. I’m so tired of him having the power to wreck me. Hoping that the disappointment I feel isn’t showing on my face, I turn away from him without a word. I’ve said enough already tonight.

I snake through the crowd, finding Will waiting for me where I left him. I don’t have to turn around to feel the heat of Tucker’s stare. And even after everything he just said to me, I love having his eyes on me just as much as I hate it.

Tucker

I’m a wreck.

It’s been three days since the dock party, and I can’t get that conversation with Daisy out of my mind.

I replay it over and over again, and I feel the same jealousy raging in me as I did that night. I couldn’t control myself when I stalked over to her and demand we talk. Was it my finest moment? Not even close. But I couldn’t bring myself to give a shit.

When Daisy asked why I wouldn’t just leave her alone, I told her the truth: I was worried about her. I didn’t want her making a mistake she would regret with some loser she barely even knows. But deep down, I know it’s more than that. The truth is, I wish it was me who was holding her hand. I want to be the guy who makes her blush and giggle. Fuck, I want to be the guy who makes her come. I’ve imagined her big, beautiful eyes flutter shut as my mouth sucks one of her perfect tits into my mouth, the shape of her hips under my palm, and the sounds she would make when my cock slowly sunk inside of her. At this point, it’s practically all I think about.

And that fact alone scares the ever-freaking shit out of me. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore the illicit thoughts I keep having about Daisy. Speaking of hard, I’ve woken up the last three mornings with a raging hard-on. I get horny as fuck knowing that she has needs and wants to have some fun before she leaves on her trip because I keep imagining that I’m the guy who is giving her exactly what she wants.

Why can’t it be me? I’m not looking for a relationship, and neither is Daisy. She’s leaving in a few months— there would be an expiry date. As long as neither one of us caught feelings, what could go wrong? With any luck, we could share orgasms, scratch an itch, and then she could leave me in her dust when she boards her plane.

But I guess Daisy already has a guy who can do that for her. A heavy dose of jealousy and anger bubbles up inside me when I think about her with him again. The way she was looking up at him, the way his hands kept finding her. Then I think about the way I hurt her that night. I can’t handle seeing Daisy upset but knowing that I was the person who made her feel that way cracked my fucking heart in two. And while she wanted to smack me, all I was doing was trying not to kiss her.

I shove my hands through my hair and look out my office window to the field below. Pride blooms in my chest at the sight of the green and gold banner above the scoreboard, the Outlaw logo emblazoned on the turf and the 17,000 stadium seats. It’s not large compared to other U.S. college stadiums, but it’s mine. I live for the glare of the stadium lights, the feeling of the manicured pitch under my feet and the loud, raucous energy of the crowd. Before our games even begin, you can hear the chants, feel the beat of the pounding drums from RPU’s marching band. And when the boys hit the field, it’s almost impossible to hear myself think over the roar of the fans.

This team. This school. This feeling is what I live for. There is nothing I love more on this earth.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts and I turn to see our assistant coach, Jesse Workington, standing in the doorway. He’s wearing the coaching staff’s signature black polo with the Outlaw logo on the chest. Jesse and I go way back; we were both Outlaws long before we became coaches for the school.

I wave him in, and he joins me at the window, standing silently for a moment as he takes in the familiar view. His sandy blond hair is dishevelled, and he has a week’s worth of scruff covering his jaw. I recognize the tension in his tall frame, a sure sign that he’s just as wound up over this weekend’s game as I am.

“I came to check in on you, coach,” he says, clapping me lightly on the shoulder.

“You sure I shouldn’t be checking in on you?” I respond with a sly grin.

He smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “The Vikings have been dominating this season. They aren’t going to make this easy.”

He isn’t wrong, but we are the better team. I leave him at the window and sink into the chair behind my desk. “We didn’t play our best against the Panthers last game. There were too many mistakes. Hopefully we are more focused on Friday. We need this win.”

The frustration in the locker room after last week’s game was palpable. Everyone is on edge, knowing the stakes and what it means if we lose the next four games. We’ve spent all week going over film, hashing out our strategy to win our last home game then the remaining games on the road. We need every fucking victory we can get before we end out the season.

A crease forms between Jesse’s brows as he slumps into the chair across from me, like maybe he isn’t so sure we can pull out the win. “I think we should call an extra practise.”

“There isn’t any time.” I shake my head. “But let’s bring them in after practise on Wednesday to review the playbook.”

“Okay. Fine by me.”

“How are things otherwise, at home?”

“They’re fine. Caitlyn is feeling good, a little nervous but I guess that’s to be expected when you’re going to have a baby in less than six weeks.”

“I still can’t believe you’re gonna be a dad.”

“Some days, I can’t believe it either.”

Jesse married his high school girlfriend. They’ve been together since senior year. He proposed to her on her 21 st birthday, married her a year later. They bought a little house about a half hour drive from Reed Point. “Is she coming to the game?”

“Planning on it, God willing,” he answers, looking up at the ceiling.

“It’s all gonna be fine.”

He nods, pushing up from the chair “I just wanted to check in with you, make sure you’re good. It’s going to be a crazy week.”

“I’m good. Gonna finish up here and head home. You should too.”

Jesse nods and heads for the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I scrub a hand through the stubble on my jaw, anxious. The game. The season. Daisy. The spinning cycle of thoughts immediately returns; I feel like I’m going out of my mind.

I stuff my phone in my pocket and grab my gym bag. I really should be going over the playbook, but I need to get my nerves in check first. I head straight for the locker room, where I change into a T-shirt and athletic shorts and then head for the gym.

I’m relieved to find the facility empty. Normally I enjoy running into students here, but today I just don’t have the energy for small talk. I pop in my ear buds and sink down on a weight bench, The Rolling Stones playlist reminds me of my dad as always. His favorite song is Start Me Up .

Pain and bitterness burn in my stomach when I think about the arguments we’ve had over the years—none more intense than on the day I broke the news that I wouldn’t be following in his footsteps. My dad was angry. My mother sat in silence. I wanted to scream at them both for not thinking I was enough, for not supporting me in following my own dreams. I wanted them to know how inadequate they had always made me feel and how tired I was of carrying that burden.

But instead, I went next door to Daisy’s house, to the people who had always felt like a second family to me. There were no questions, just love and support. Daisy’s mom and dad had always treated me like I was their own and some days it felt like they understood and appreciated me more than my own parents did.

Daisy grew up knowing that she was loved unconditionally. Her childhood was spent in a house that was filled with warmth and fun. Every birthday and anniversary were celebrated, every accomplishment was noticed. Meanwhile, I have spent most of my life trying to prove to my perfectionist parents that I’m not a screw-up. Ours is a deeply flawed relationship, and sometimes I wonder if that’s the reason I’ve avoided getting serious with anyone.

Despite my disdain for relationships— the thought of being tied down to one woman gives me hives— I would do anything for Daisy. I have always felt protective of her. I’ve never met anyone else who I have felt this fiercely connected to. I cannot imagine a life without Daisy in it.

We were seven years old when I pushed a kid in our class for pulling her hair. We were 10 years old when I told off some twerp for trying to steal her sandwich. And we were 16 when I finally found the balls to kiss her, and it was even better than I had ever fantasized.

After the kiss, she didn’t shut down or run away. She opened her eyes and stared back at me, like she was daring me to kiss her again. Her confidence was sexy as fuck, tempting me to take her up to my bedroom and take the kiss further, and damn if I didn’t want to. I had spent a long time battling the lust I felt for her, and that kiss only proved the attraction wasn’t one-sided.

I’ll never forget the soft smile on her lips when her eyes fluttered open or the four words she said to me when we broke the kiss. That felt so good. The expression on her face hit me like a punch to the gut. I had never seen her look at me like that before. Instead of playing it cool and worrying about what the kiss meant to me, she admitted how it felt to her.

It is a trait of Daisy’s that I loved then and still do; a real, raw vulnerability that my stupid heart has always a had a soft spot for. It still does.

I tried to forget it and move on. I fooled around with women—a lot of them—and hoped to make a genuine connection along the way. But I have never been able to shake the dream of being with Daisy.

It doesn’t help that we see each other at least once a week, or that her name comes up in almost every single conversation I have with my parents. Daisy has always been so deeply intertwined with my life, but I’ve done my best to keep a safe distance, because depriving myself of the one thing I really want is the only option.

But since that conversation on the dock, I can’t get this idea out of my head. It’s crazy, but it could work. Daisy wants to have fun before she leaves, and I can’t stomach the idea of a stranger putting his hands all over her. That is not going to fucking happen.

Maybe I can be her good time until she leaves on her trip. Better it’s me than some other guy who doesn’t deserve her and who won’t treat her right.

Maybe it could work. But it will have to wait.

First, I have a game to win.