It’s not sexual.
It’s… comforting.
The clouds continue to roll in, and thunder rumbles deep and throaty in the distance.
‘Today is the day my mother marries Doug the douche,’ I blurt, running my fingers through the ends of her hair. ‘She is a disgrace to my father’s memory. It’s like he meant nothing to her.’
She tilts her head up to face me, her dark eyes soft withsomething that looks dangerously like understanding. ‘Grief makes people do strange things.’
I shake my head, jaw tightening. ‘Yeah. Marrying a stranger every eighteen months is strange.’
‘It’s desperate,’ she counters gently. Her fingers trace over the contours of my chest in slow, soothing strokes. ‘Losing someone you love—truly love—leaves a hole nothing can fill. I witnessed it firsthand.’ She pauses for a long beat, like she’s contemplating revealing something personal again. She wets her lips. ‘My brother’s wife died in a car crash. It was horrific. For him and their children.’
‘Shit. I’m so sorry.’ This woman—God knows what else she’s been through, between family feuds and the need for a bodyguard. She hasn’t mentioned her family since that night in the bar. I have to wonder if they’re some sort of royalty. Curiosity piques inside.
‘It was a long time ago now.’ Her eyes flick back to mine. ‘The point I’m trying to make is that some people face their grief. Some people fall apart. And some… try to outdrink it. Others try to outrun it.’
I huff out a humourless laugh. ‘Well, my mother sure as hell is running.’
‘Maybe she’s trying to outrun the silence,’ she murmurs. ‘The empty side of the bed. The memories. The fear she’ll never feel wanted or loved again.’
The words hit low and hard in my chest. I’ve been focusing on preserving my father’s memory. His legacy. Maybe she’s just trying to survive it.
‘He was Irish too,’ I admit. ‘He would have liked you.’
‘I would’ve liked to meet him.’ She nestles closer. ‘He raised a good man.’ She squeezes my bicep, and her gaze drifts back to the sea. Minutes pass in silence. Both of us quietly immersed in separate thoughts, together. She snugglesinto me until the heavens open, and huge hard raindrops pelt from the sky.
‘Let’s swim in the sea.’ She leaps from my lap, tilts her face up to the sky, opening her mouth to catch the rain.
Despite myself, the corner of my mouth twitches. ‘You’re something else, Irish.’
Thunder cracks overhead, as if on cue.
For the first time all day, I feel the tension in my shoulders loosen.
Not gone.
But eased.
She did that.
With a few quiet words, and her body folded into mine like she belongs there.
‘Come on! Life is for living!’ She shrugs off her robe and tosses it onto the chair. She’s wearing that damned white bikini again.
I stand and whip off my t-shirt. Her pupils dilate, drinking in my torso.
And God only knows I’d follow her anywhere when she’s looking at me like that.
Now that is a dangerous thought.
Chapter Fifteen
ZARA
As the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. And this holiday has been the best. Tonight is my last night. The jet is scheduled for early tomorrow morning. My bags are mostly packed. My cup is full. And I am ready to get back to Beckett Deluxe Design.
What I’m not ready for is to say goodbye to California.
