Yours: A Standalone Contemporary Romance Read Online Free Page A

skipped the meet-up at the condo and went back to the Vagabond .  
    Alone.
    Shit with Mel had run its course anyway and we both knew it. It had been a short course, and not all that great to begin with, since our chemistry was only marginal at best.  
    My plan now is to go for a swim, get wasted, and then head south in the morning. Maybe see if I can hit the Straits of Magellan, make the long as fuck trip north to Cali. I’ll pick up a temporary crew somewhere along the way.  
    I shower after my swim and then hop out, toweling off.  
    I go to take my pills and there she is, just sitting on my bed, staring at me, watching me pop one pill after another, washing them down with Perrier.
    “Lee—Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” I take the last pill; cinch the towel around my waist.  
    Not out of modesty, since Leanne and I have spent plenty of time together naked; it’s more because I sense she wants to talk . Which is hard to do with any seriousness when one is buck-ass naked.
    “What’s up, buttercup?” I run my hands through my short blond hair so it’s spiked up and messy.
    “You’re an idiot.”  
    “Well, let’s not beat around the bush, shall we?” I sit beside her and offer her the green glass bottle of sparkling water. “That’s not really news, babe. Hate to break it to you.”  
    She takes a sip, hands it back. “Not like that. I mean, yeah, you’re an idiot. You take too many risks. You obviously have a death wish. That’s not new, and that’s not what I’m talking about.”
    “Then what kind of idiot am I this time?”  
    She ducks her head and picks at a loose thread on the quilt. “You know I’m staying here, in Rio? With Carlos.”
    “Yeah, I know.”
    “And you’re fine with it?”
    I sigh. “This is about Astrid, isn’t it?”
    Leanne groans in frustration. “No, you douche. It’s not about fucking Astrid . Or the fact that you fucked Astrid. I fucked Carlos that night—we have an agreement. So no, that’s not it.”
    “Then what is it? If you want to stay in Rio, stay in Rio. That was always the reality, Lee: you’d find somewhere that called to you, and sail with me until you found it. Seems you’ve found it. Carlos is a good dude.”
    “You won’t even miss me? You don’t even care?”  
    “Fuck.” Now it’s my turn to give in to frustration—I drop the towel and reach into the closet where I find a pair of board shorts and step into them. “Just come out and say it.”
    I turn around and Lee’s there. Right there. Inches away, staring up at me. God, she’s gorgeous. Medium height, hair dyed ombre, blonde near the roots and brunette at the bottom, cut shoulder-length to frame her heart-shaped face. Bright brown eyes. Skin tanned caramel by hours in the sun on a deck wearing nothing but a bikini—or nothing at all. Nice full hips, a juicy ass taut from plenty of yoga. Not overly big tits, but a decent handful each. She’s in shape, lithe, lovely. Sweet. Smart. She’s a lot of things.
    I am an idiot.
    Especially when she says her next piece. She says it facing me, looking up at me, hands on my chest. Eyes wide. Full of emotion, letting it all hang out. “I could have loved you, Lock.”  
    My heart squeezes. Aches. Fuck, I hate myself, my life, and the shitty goddamn hand Fate has dealt me. But she can’t know that.  
    Better that she think I’m a cold-hearted asshole.  
    I grab her wrists; keep my eyes hard and focused, keep my emotions caged way down deep, chained up where they belong. I force her hands off me. “I know you could have, Lee. I may be an idiot, but I’m not blind. That’s just…it’s not where I’m at.”
    Anger suffuses her features. “Not where you’re at?” She slaps my chest, hard enough to leave a red handprint. “What the fuck does that mean? Is that the new asshole way of saying ‘it’s not you, it’s me’?”
    I’m careful to keep cool, to keep my gaze steady, my expression neutral. “Basically, yeah.