“You know a fair bit about me,” I say. “Too much, I reckon. We’ve shared enough text adventures to write a saga.”
“True,” she says. “But with you, there’s always another twist.”
“Let me think.” She likes my stories about boarding school. “Ah, there was that one time at the Queen Victoria School when I dressed up as Father Christmas, and I gave out pies to all the teachers.”
“That’s so sweet,” she says. “I can totally picture you as Santa.”
“Aye, but the kicker is they gave everyone food poisoning!” I throw back my head in a laugh. “Nearly got myself expelled. They thought I had done it on purpose. It took Hamish to bail me out.”
“Hamish?” she asks, curious.
I hadn’t meant to let that name slip. But there’s something about Josie that makes me want to share things I’ve kept buried. “My half brother,” I tell her. “He died. Many years ago.”
“Oh,” she says gently. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right. I barely knew him, to be honest. He was a good bit older. But when the headmaster accused me of spiking the pies and making everyone rat-arsed sick, Hamish came down and said he’d been the one who sent the cakes. Got me out of a right mess.”
“Nice save. You must have had such a special bond,” she says.
“We did,” I say. “But then things changed—hechanged—and we drifted apart. I hadn’t seen or even spoken to him in a decade when I heard he’d passed. He was living the fast life. Hard drugs, drinking, you know the type.”
Josie nods. Watching me.
I take a breath. “So when I heard he’d crashed his Porsche, it wasn’t too much of a surprise.”
“Sounds like he was a lot to handle,” she says quietly.
“He was.” I nod, my mind slipping back to memories I’ve tried to bury.
“What a loss, though,” she says. “I always wanted a sibling.” She touches my arm gently. “I’m here anytime if you want to talkabout him.” Her smile is soft, her eyes full of understanding. I’m still startled that I’ve spoken Hamish’s name—I’ve not said it once since he died—but I’m even more surprised by how much comfort Josie’s words have brought me.
Her gaze locks with mine, and that undeniable electric tension builds between us, drawing us closer together. In this moment, all the words we’ve shared evaporate, leaving only the heat of connection between us. It feels like we’re the only two people on the boardwalk, maybe the only two people in the whole wide world.
I lean in slowly, feeling my heart hammer as she moves closer. I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly in my life. Our lips meet chastely at first, but then our kiss deepens in heat, urgency. I trail kisses along her jawline and softly across her cheeks, savoring the warmth of her skin. Each touch sends a shiver through me, and I can feel her responding with the same intensity—
My phone rings, snapping me out of it.
I groan and pull back, torn between answering it and staying in this perfect moment with Josie.
It’s Strike. I’ve got to take it. I know he’s got an answer for me.
Thirty-Six
Josie
Axe raises a finger and mouths,One sec, then steps away down the boardwalk to take the call. I’m just standing there, frozen, my lips still tingling like they’ve been branded. What is even happening to me? I’ve never felt like this. Not with Bryan. Not with any of those awkward guys before him.
I’m literallycravinghim. Aching in places I didn’t even know could ache, and I have no clue if I can handle this level of…whatever this is. I’ve got a high pain tolerance, but do I have a high enough tolerance for this? The kind of connection where you just hand over your heart and hope they don’t drop it?
“Is it done?” Axe asks into his phone, his question carried over with the wind. The call’s timing couldn’t have been a coincidence. The universe is telling us to cool our jets, to take a step back, not to cross this line. Right?
“Aye, aye,” Axe says, and I can’t help but smile. He sounds like a pirate. I wish I’d brought a white ruffled blouse for dinner tonight; Axe would have cracked up. Maybe I can scrounge up a parrot for my shoulder.
“We’ll move on him as soon as I’m back. Nice work,” Axe says,and there’s an edge of triumph in his voice. I wonder what happened? Did he secure more funding for his project?
“Everything all right?” I ask when he ends the call.
“Yup. Just our bro Skipper calling to confirm dinner.” I look skeptical, but Axe is sticking with his story. “Sure you want to cancel the posh French place?”
