Taboo Series Book 1 & 2 Bundle Read online

  Chapter 1

  It’s hot.

  Really hot.

  But maybe that’s because it’s been years since I planned my day around being outside. Regardless, it’s only the second week of June and the heat baking the black tar pavement outside the community swimming pool feels like a frying pan.

  “Don’t forget these,” I call to the girls. The pink and purple goggles swing around my finger. Harper runs back. I pull the elastic band wide enough to go around her head and mount them on the top of her forehead. “And good luck. I know you’ll do great today.”

  Claire has already disappeared through the gates, but Harper doesn’t seem convinced. I pull on her pigtails and adjust the straps of her bathing suit. “Nervous?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t be. Swim team is really fun. I heard the other moms saying you get ice cream after the meets.”

  “Ice cream?”

  “Yes. And you get to stay up late. And…” I trail off when the silver SUV flies into the parking lot. I pull Harper close on instinct. The guy’s driving too fast with this many kids around. Anger boils in my chest and I consider telling him off. I won’t though, because it’s my first week on the job and I don’t know anyone here. It’s too early to gain the reputation of being the crazy nanny. I do look up when the door opens to see who would drive so recklessly, and I’m shocked when I see him. A guy, in his early twenties. His walk is cocky and self-assured. He’s wearing swim shorts, with a blue T-shirt and has a backpack slung over his shoulder. Of course he’s cute. Of course, since I’ve already decided not to like him. Maybe he’s the coach? If so, then he’s late. No wonder he’s driving like an idiot.

  “Alright, you need to go in for practice. I packed a lunch so we can stay for a while after, okay?”

  “Okay, Ruthie.” I watch her run off toward the rest of the girls her age. They’re all huddled around the pool edge, nervous about the first day. Carrying the cooler and pool bag, I walk around the tiled pool deck, looking for a spot to sit. I settle on a table and a chair in the sun. After situating my towel on the chair, I pull my cover-up over my head, revealing a bikini and exposing my olive skin to the sun for the first time this year. Oh well, I think, I may not have a wedding later this summer, but at least I’ll have a tan.

  “You must be Ruthie.” A girl near my age sets up at the table next to mine. She has thick red hair pulled up in a ponytail. Her skin is so pale I wonder how she’ll sit out here and not get fried. “I’m Finley.” I stare at her blankly. “Maggie’s nanny. She and Claire are BFF’s, you know.”

  I didn’t know, but again, first week on the job; I’m sure there are plenty of things I haven’t figured out yet. Like who eats peanut butter and who hates bananas. I’ve got to work some other things out, like, why am I spending my summer sitting around the pool when I should be trying on wedding gowns and attending bridal showers and planning my honeymoon? The big things.

  The last couple of weeks I’ve done all I can to keep those questions at bay. But the truth is my life turned upside down in the last three months. My wedding plans got shot to hell when Jamie decided he wanted out. Which was fine. I wanted out, too, but part of me yearned for that dress. And the shoes. And the stupid freaking honeymoon.

  Something brown and lovely catches my eye and I forget about Jamie and ivory shoes.

  “Betsy says you’re going to Duke this fall?” Finley asks.

  “Huh?” She’s standing in front of me, blocking my view. I lean a little to the left to see around her.

  This girl doesn’t notice that I’m having a problem and continues to talk, asking me questions about working with the girls. Apparently, she’s friends with Betsy, the girls’ mother. Or is it her sister-in-law? Something like that. It’s not that I don’t care—she seems cool enough but I’ve completely lost focus due to something—no, someone in the water.

  “Um.” I try to get a better look, but even this tiny wisp of a girl is taking up too much visual space. “Can you move over?”

  “What?” She follows my gaze and laughs. “Oh you spotted him, huh? I’ve had my eye on that kid for years.”

  “Kid?” I ask, my eyes glued on this guy. The one from the parking lot that tried to run over the kids. The one with the cocky swagger. Yowza, he’s even hotter with his shirt off.

  “You realize he’s a kid right?”

  I look away from him and at Finley. “What? I saw him in the parking lot. He’s like twenty-five right?”

  “Nope.”

  I lean over and study his back. That’s what caught my attention. His back. Oh man. It’s like muscles on muscles and so broad I don’t think my arms could wrap around him. “Twenty-one?”

  She shakes her head and pouts. “He’s jailbait.”

  “No.”

  She laughs again and stretches on her towel in the chair next to mine. “Yep.”

  “He’s not legal?”

  “Nope. Well, maybe. But he just graduated from high school at the most.”

  “You’re kidding. He looks twenty-five.”

  We both stare across the pool as he lifts himself out of the water with ease. He’s helping with practice, but he’s not the coach. The coach is a woman who wears a shirt that says COACH across the front. This kid…oh God, he’s a kid.

  “How does that happen?” I ask. “Boys didn’t look like that when I was in high school.”

  “I don’t know,” Finley says. “I’m serious when I say I’ve been watching him for years. It took a while. Last year I sort of saw it coming, but yeah. He’s quite the specimen.”

  “But he’s jailbait?” I ask again, because I still don’t believe it.

  “Eighteen at the most.”

  “He’s the most genetically superior eighteen-year-old I’ve ever seen.”

  Finley stretches next to me on her towel, coating her legs in sunscreen. “Yep. And he’s a lifeguard.”

  “So he’ll be here every day?” I feel wrong asking, but I can’t help it and I’m pretty sure Finley has just become my co-conspirator. In what, I’m not sure.

  “Every day,” she says, sliding on a pair of black sunglasses with rhinestones scattered around the frames. We both watch as he shows the kids how to dive, a dozen muscles working all at once. Finley nods appreciatively. “Welcome to East Haven Pool.”

  Chapter 2

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yes.”

  “God, just no.”

  We watch, mouths gaping, at the woman on the diving board. She’s cute—I suppose, in that over-forty and can still pull off a bikini kind of way. Is she cute enough to bag him? No.

  “It’s happening.”

  “The secondhand embarrassment…”

  “Just…did she really hold her nose?”

  “Yes. What is she doing?”

  My eyes are glued to the unfolding scene. He climbs out of the water, droplets sliding down his back, and there she stands at the top of the ladder. Waiting. “She’s waiting for him?”

  “To talk to him?”

  “Oh my God, you can’t just talk to him.”

  And the moment is proven. You can’t. He simply glides by, paying her absolutely no attention.

  “There it is…the blow-off.”

  I shake my head. “Ouch. What’s worse? Being blown off by a genetically superior eighteen-year-old or the fact you allowed yourself to be blown off by a genetically superior eighteen-year-old?”

  “Once you take that path there really is no better or worse. It’s all just terrible.”

  Together we nod, heads ducked close so no one else will hear. I have on my trusty gigantic glasses. The ones I’ve been hiding behind for the last week. I pretend they’re a shield from bad biki
nis, toxic tattoos, and meddling mothers. But really, they’re my spy glasses.

  So I can watch him.

  Sure, my job is to babysit two adorable girls. Their parents graciously pay me in cash every Friday. Plus they allow me to stay in their over-the-garage apartment rent-free. They also have a membership to this quaint community pool that’s not so special except he makes it special. And I have officially become obsessed.

  “Think of the stamina.” Finley throws this pearl of wisdom out while we ogle him climbing out of the pool and heading back to the diving board, again. She and I have become fast friends out of necessity and one other mutual interest since we met last week. The girls, of course, and well…him. “No really,” she said again. “Just think of it.”

  “I’d rather not,” I lie. It’s too late anyway. My mind is full of images. I can’t seem to stop myself no matter how inappropriate. At the top of the board, the sunlight catches every taut muscle; how they flex and make pretty curves and shapes.

  “Ryan and I are the same age, so we were eighteen at the same time. He wanted it constantly. I was cool with it and everything, but not as into it as he was. If I knew then what I know now…”

  “Finely, stop.” I’ve lifted out of my seat, just barely, to see his next stunt. He pushes off the platform with the balls of his feet. The board makes a loud springing sound as he twists into some kind of wild back flip that makes my stomach tumble in reaction.

  “Why is that so hot?” I ask, fanning myself.

  “Because it makes you think about him in bed. Adventurous. Feral. Flexible. I bet he’s like an animal.”

  “Stop,” I say again, meaning anything but.

  “What? I mean, now that we know he’s legal, circumstances have changed right?”

  “No.”

  Before she can start up her argument, the one about how he’s legal and how he’s do-able, and how I’m single, my legs are covered in cold, dripping water. Both girls stand over me. “Ruthie, Harper scraped her toe on the edge of the pool.”

  I inspect Harper’s foot. Injuries aside, this job has turned out better than I expected. We get up, come to the pool, hang out, go home. The apartment over the garage is nice. Small and quiet. Perfect for this summer. Basically, I get paid to get a tan and eat peanut butter sandwiches. Since I don’t have to pay rent, I should have enough money to get through the first semester or two at school. “Ouch, it’s bleeding a little. Do you need a bandage?”

  “Yes. I really, really, do. Really.” She sniffs, and I smile at the over-dramatics.

  “I didn’t bring any, so I guess you need to ask the lifeguard.”

  Finley perks up and drops her magazine on her stomach. “Did you say the lifeguard?”

  Tugging on my hand, Harper says, “Come with me.”

  “Go with her,” Finley encourages with a devil’s grin on her face.

  I glance across the pool where he has lassoed a whistle around his neck and now leans against the guard stand talking to the other lifeguard. I’ve never spoken to him before. Only watched. But this is legit, right? I’m only asking for a Band Aid. It’s my job to get one for Harper. It’s his job to provide one. No big.

  “Fine. Let’s go.” I take her hand and we walk across the deck.

  “Go get him, tiger.”

  “Shut up.”

  She’s right though. I should go get him, but he’s too young and way too pretty. And too young. Just thinking about him makes my palms sweat, and not just because it’s 95 degrees out. He just went to his senior prom. I just called off a wedding. What would I even talk to him about? Plus, I remind myself, I only broke up with Jamie a month ago. The last thing I need is to be known as the girl looking for some kind of creepy teenaged rebound.

  Harper and I reach the stand and the first thing I see his chest. His glorious, beautiful, perfect chest. No matter how much I try, I can’t look him in the eye.

  “Do you have any Band Aids?” I manage to ask in a calm, neutral voice. My eyes are glued to his smooth, brown skin. I grip Harper’s hand to keep my own fingers under control.

  “Sure,” he says. His voice is deep. Deeper than expected. Do eighteen-year-old boys have voices that deep? “Sit over there.” He points to a bench next to the guard room with a kind smile. Harper sits down and I watch as he pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head. They disappear into his unruly tangle of blonde hair. He rummages around the First Aid kit, his fingers shaking a little when he fishes out the bandage.

  “Here, I’ll do it,” I say, reaching for the package.

  “No, it’s okay.” He gets down on one knee and gently wraps the adhesive around Harper toe. “Better?” She nods and hops up.

  “Thanks,” she says.

  “No problem.” He tousles her hair and we watch her skip off.

  “Thank you…um, what’s your name?” I say this to his shoulder. See? I can talk to him. I feel ridiculously proud even though I already know his name. He’s Carter Hightower. Recent graduate of Saint Mary’s Catholic School. Birthday June 4th.

  Have mercy, I’m a stalker.

  “Carter,” he says, pulling his glasses back down over his eyes.

  “I’m Ruthie. That was Harper. I’m babysitting her this summer.”

  “So you’ll be around?”

  I nod and laugh. “Every day I imagine. The kids love to stay after swim team.”

  “Hey Carter, I need you to check the chemicals.” The other guard shouts over his shoulder from the chair.

  “Sure.” He walks toward the small office near the bathrooms. “See you later, Ruthie,” he says, disappearing through the door.

  Chapter 3

  “What color are his eyes?” Finley asks a couple days later. Aqua-Man, as we’ve started calling him, is chest deep in the water teaching swim lessons across the pool.

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t look at them.” I stretch back in my lounge chair, keeping one eye on him and one on the girls playing in the deep end. “Blue, maybe?” His dark summer skin would look nice with blue eyes.

  “No, I think they’re brown.”

  “Really?” I look over at him, taking a swallow of water from my bottle. He’s sunk below the water line, nose to nose with his student. His goggles are pulled down over his eyes so confirmation is impossible.

  “Well,” she says, “His nipples are brown.”

  “Finley!” I choke on the water. “You did not just say that.”

  “Well, they are!” We both start laughing and she says, “That’s why I don’t know what color they are. I can’t stop looking at his chest!”

  “Shh…he’s not deaf.”

  Finley pulls her eyes away and her tone grows serious. “Ruthie, you’re young, hot, and single. Why not go for it?”

  “Why? Are you kidding?”

  “No, I’m not kidding. Why not?”

  I start ticking off my fingers. “One, because he’s eighteen. Two, because clearly he has a girlfriend. Why wouldn’t he have a girlfriend? Three, because he’s eighteen and I’m much older than that, and four, because even though he’s only eighteen I’m pretty sure he’s completely out of my league.”

  “Are you done?”

  “No,” I hold up finger number five. “And he’s eighteen. Barely.”

  I ignore my friend staring at me like I’m an idiot. She’s the idiot. “Jeez, you are such a fool sometimes, Ruthie Johnson. I’m not even sure why we’re friends.”

  “Me either, since you’re so nice to me and everything.” I stick out my tongue. We’ve only really been friends for a couple weeks but it feels like a lifetime. She knows too much about me already. Like this thing with Aqua-Man. Dirty thoughts no one should ever know.

  “I can make a list, too,” she says and holds her own fingers up. “One, you’re a total hottie.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Two, I stalked him on Facebook. He’s single.”

  I glance across the pool and try to imagine him without a girlfriend. Impossible. If it’s true, he’s
probably one of those guys who won’t commit publicly—keeping his options open. I always hated those guys.

  “Three, you’re not that much older, but you are wiser; think of the things you can teach him.”

  My girly-places may have clenched at that one.

  “Four, you are out of his league, which makes you the one with the power. God gave you that rack for a reason. Use it.”

  I pull my eyes from the water—and him. “Um, I think God gave me boobs to like, feed babies and stuff.”

  “Well, one day, duh, but right now you need those boobs to catch a man to have babies with.”

  The thought of having babies with Aqua-Man is a mixed emotion. I mean, yes, I want to do that thing where I make babies with him, but really? He’s like, barely out of high school; I doubt he even has insurance.

  “Ruthie, stop over-thinking it,” she demanded.

  “It’s not just that,” I say, but stop before I go further. I’ve only known Finley for a little over a week. I gave her the abridged version of my current life situation but nothing more.

  “Then what?”

  “You know how I’m starting grad school this fall? At Duke? Well, that’s been the plan for a while, but there were other plans, too.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  “Like starting school with the name Mrs. Jamie Moorefield.”

  Finley actually looks up at me this time—forcing her eyes away from Aqua-Man and his brown nipples. “You were getting married? You were engaged? What happened?”

  “We broke up. Like two months ago.” Tears build in the corner of my eyes and I’m happy for my giant glasses. “It’s not a big deal. We just weren’t happy anymore.”

  “How long were you together?”

  “Since our senior year of college. So like, five years. We were going to get married this summer and I was going to finally get the chance to go physical therapy school while he started his residency. But we kept fighting and finally we just had to accept that our relationship was going nowhere.”

  “Wow.”

  “So right, that alone takes Aqua-Man off the table. I mean, not that he’s even on the table. Or that there even is a table, but I’m just saying, I don’t need to dump my emotional baggage on a kid who can’t even drink. Can you imagine?”