Oli curls his lips. “He’s staying at the resort next to the marina. I just need to text Sullivan. He’ll tell me which rental Finn’s in.”
Before I can say yes please, he’s shooting off a text.
Waves crash in the distance, soothing my frazzled nerves. No wonder Finn stays here. Besides the luxury gated community, not to mention the security system, its tranquil setting with all the amenities at hand is a tourist’s dream.
I try to smooth out the wrinkles on my cami before I rasp my knuckles against his door. My heart thumps beneath my breast. I’ll just say my piece, then go.
Country music drifts through an open window, telling me he’s home. I knock again and wait for him to answer. The longer I stand here, the more I’m overthinking. Stepping over the front lawn and flower bed, I stalk to the front window to take a peek.
My mouth drops open at the sight of his inked chest. He’s frowning in concentration as he stares at an easel in front of him, a paintbrush between his teeth and a small trowel in his hand. He wipes his other hand against his slacks, hanging deliciously low, with his suspender straps trailing down at either side.
He looks over the canvas right at me. I duck under the window, but know it’s in vain. He saw me staring and probably drooling too.
In less than thirty seconds, his front door swings open. “Shelly?”
I stand straight, inhaling the air, but it’s like it’s all disappeared, leaving a thick haze I need to fight through before I can breathe again. Then his hand takes mine, pulling me through the thicket and into his arms and into his home.
“How are you? Can I get you something?” His hands run up and down my arms as if trying to warm me. “Are you well?”
I nod as I take in his blue eyes, as deep and wondrous as the ocean. “I wanted to apologise and explain.”
“Come through.” He leads me into the property, tidying things away as he walks into the large, open-plan living area. He spins an easel around and carries it into another room.
“You paint? What’s that you’re working on?” I follow, hoping to glimpse his art.
“Er…” he closes the door to the bedroom and blocks me from entering. “Nothing really. It’s still in its early stages. I prefer not to share my work until I’m happy with it.” He moves a pile of sketchbooks from the sofa and makes a space for me.
I sit down, creaking the leather. “Why did you take me there today?”
“I heard it was the best restaurant around here for vegan food.” He sits in front of me, perching on the coffee table so our knees are touching. “Is that what freaked you out?”
To know he was trying to do something nice adds to my despair. “I can’t go there. It holds terrible memories for me.” I wring my hands together as if squeezing and wringing out a dishcloth as I’m about to spill all my troubles onto him.
He takes hold of my hands and clasps them between his large, warm palms. “You don’t have to talk about this if it’s too upsetting. Whatever it is, I understand, and we’ll never go there again.”
“It’s okay. I want to tell you.” I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. The scent of paint and him fills my lungs, calming my nerves. “I lived there in a small house on the cliff before the hotel was built.”
His thumbs stroke the back of my hands in circular motions. “What happened?”
“The Kilmore family had been after buying us out, but Dad wouldn’t sell. One night, I smelled fuel. I saw bad men running from the house. Next thing I knew, Dad was carrying me outside.”
“Bloody hell.” He ushers closer to me, wiping my tears away with his hand. I hadn’t even realised I was crying. “Your mum?”
“Everyone was fine.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Except my pet turtles. They’d been injured, and I was nursing them back to health. They were almost ready to go back into the sea.”
He pulls my head against his chest, his fingers tangle in my hair as he holds my head against him, peppering kisses against my scalp. “I’m so fucking sorry, Shell. No wonder you didn’t want to go back there.”
“For years I dreamt of bad men, house fires, and the turtles I couldn’t save. It’s why I can’t go there. I fear the night terrors returning.” I wrap my arms around his waist and sniffle against his chest. The hairs there tickle my nose and I take comfort in the safety of Finn’s arms.
“Is that the reason for your camper lifestyle?”
I nod my head against his chest, wiping my nose against him as I sniffle.
“Let it all out, Shell.” His knuckles soothe down my spine. “There’s a good girl. Get it out.”
Tingles travel around my body, awakening every nerve ending right down to my centre. This man turns me into a blubbering mess, then ruins my panties with one phrase. A shiver courses through me and I’m no longer crying.
I pull away, my hair matted to my wet cheeks.
