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Huh, it sounded rather depressing when put into words, but it was a good life, an independent one. It might seem dull or unexciting, but believe me, it became everything when you realised how easily it could slip away.

“In that case, I’m …” He trailed off, moving away and giving me space I both hated and desperately needed. “I’m sorry to hear that.” A pause as he ran a hand over his jaw. “Really fucking sorry,” he went on, almost to himself.

Everything within me screamed at me to throw caution to wind. Risking my current contentment and independence might be worth it to explore the connection we shared, but it was just too daunting, too terrifying, yet it still took all my willpower not to close the distance between us and kiss him senseless.

“I need to be getting back. Katy will be wondering where I am.”

“Yes, of course,” he said, looking a little lost for words, and I noticed his shirt was still unbuttoned, his tie askew and his hair dishevelled. On instinct, I approached him, and he stilled when I was near, watching in seeming fascination as I reached out to button his shirt and fix his tie. He let me tend to him, not breathing a word. I knew it was hypocritical to do this when I’d just told him I couldn’t get involved, but I needed one last moment. One last chance to touch him before I never would again.

It was almost like he knew because he stood completely still, not moving or speaking, until at last I stepped back. “There,” I whispered. “All better.”

A deep, tender smile claimed his features. “Thanks. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

I followed him from the cottage, waiting while he locked the door. He paused by the front stoop, bending to pick something up. I saw he was plucking one of the pink marguerites Aunt Nessa had planted by the front door a few years ago. Uncle Fred had been convinced that they wouldn’t survive the winter frost, yet they kept coming back, year after year.

“Here,” he said quietly, pressing the small flower into my palm. My heart did a somersault at the sweet gesture, a sad yet affectionate smile on his face as the warmth of his hand sank into mine. A moment later, he stepped away. This man was too much. I’d basically just rejected him, yet here he was, picking me a flower because he was simply a lovely person.

“Thanks,” I said, and we walked in quiet back to the hotel, the flower still in my hand. The silence between us was heavy, and I found myself desperate to fill it.

“It looks like disco night is happening next Saturday before the big opening. Are you planning on attending?”

“Sure am. Got to see what all the fuss is about,” Tristan replied, and then I spotted a woman walking towards us. It was Becky. “There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking all over for you. We have a meeting with the new social media manager in five minutes.”

“I’ll let you go,” I said, shooting him a small farewell smile before I continued ahead to my office. The entire time I walked away, I could feel Tristan’s eyes on my back, a heaviness in my heart. When I reached my office, I stared at the marguerite he’d picked for me, admiring the petals before I gently folded it in a napkin and placed it safely in my drawer.

My concentration was shot for the rest of the day. Katy had to drive down to Cork to check in with some things at the hotel down there, so she left just after lunch. Having my office to myself again was a treat after the morning I’d had. I appreciated the alone time to sort through my thoughts.

It also meant I could pull out that Godforsaken flower more times than I could count, a mounting pressure in my chest.

I managed to lose myself in work for a few hours, grateful for the distraction, and then I decided I’d walk along the beach on the way home. Take off my shoes and sink my toes into the sand. I was only a little ways down the strand when I stopped in my tracks, for the second time in so many weeks, frozen by the sight of my boss emerging from the water in a skintight wetsuit.

15.

Erin

I was mesmerised. I wasn’t sure if it was the new closeness between us, or the fact that he was upfront about wanting to pursue a relationship with me, but something about seeing Tristan walk out of the water like some muscular sea god had me frozen in a haze.

“Erin,” he said, bending to grab a towel from the bag he’d left on the sand. It sent a pleasurable shiver down my spine each time he said my name. Ever since he’d discovered who I really was, he hadn’t called me Rinnie once, only Erin. His deep, rich voice uttering those two syllables was practically an aphrodisiac.

“H-hi. I was just on my way home,” I said, motioning down the beach.

Tristan nodded, quietly taking me in while he dragged the towel through his hair before casually drying off his arms and legs. I stood there watching, some invisible force preventing me from leaving. The fact that I was idling showed how much I was struggling. I’d made a promise to myself six years ago, a promise I’d easily kept until Tristan came along.

A shimmery sensation filled my chest when he glanced up from drying his legs and smiled.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.”

“I’d like to. I haven’t walked the full stretch of the beach yet.”

My lungs filled with air, my breath escaping me in a whoosh at the intense way he regarded me, and I realised that I wanted him to walk me home. Very much so. “Well, in that case, sure, I don’t mind the company.”

Again with the smile. That thing was practically a lethal weapon at this point.

“Just let me throw some clothes on first.”

Oh. My eyebrows jumped when he wrapped the towel around himself and made quick work of peeling off the wetsuit. I turned away, though I couldn’t resist peeking out the side of my eye, shivering when I realised he was naked beneath the towel. I caught the barest flash of a muscular arse cheek before I forced myself to look away again. The moments ticked by like molasses, stretched out amid the sound of the waves crashing against the shore while Tristan Balfe clothed himself.