CHAPTER THREE
MAL DIDN’T USUALLY BRING WOMEN to his home, yet here he was with a woman in a wedding gown. It was surreal to say the least. Then again, everything about this day was surreal. He hadn’t thought he’d ever stand in a cemetery while a twenty-one-gun salute sounded for his twin, or watch his mother accept a folded American flag, her fingers trembling as she did so. Mal’s stepfather had pulled her close, comforting her, while Mal stood there and swallowed the giant lump in his throat and tried not to shout how unfair it was.
Mal gulped back the emotion before it overwhelmed him and pulled the Tahoe into the garage. The rain ceased pounding on the car, and it got instantly quieter. He turned to look at his passenger.
She was as bedraggled as he felt, her blond hair wet and tangled, her clothes soaked through. He tried not to pay attention to what happened when white fabric got wet, but there was no mistaking the dusky tint of flesh beneath her bodice.
“This is my house,” he told her. “You can get cleaned up and decide what you want to do next.”
Her tongue darted out to lick her pink lips, and he felt a stirring in his groin.
“That’s nice of you.”
He could tell she was nervous, and he wanted to reassure her. “I grew up in Bridle Beach. I don’t live here anymore, but I had this house built so I could stay on my own when visiting family. My uncle is the sheriff, by the way.”
He took his phone from his pocket and pulled up a family picture. Then he turned it and held it out to Sabrina.
“That’s Uncle Billy right there in uniform.”
She stared at the picture. “You’re a twin.”
“Yeah.” He had to force it out since his voice threatened to fail him for a second. He pointed at the photo. “That’s me. That’s Chris.”
They’d been standing with Uncle Billy and their dad at a parade a couple of years ago when his aunt snapped the picture. It was one of Mal’s favorites.
Sabrina smiled. The corners of her mouth shook a little. He didn’t think it was because she was scared anymore. “Thanks for reassuring me. I know it’s a little late to be worrying about what kind of person you are. You must think me an idiot.”
“No. I think you’re overwhelmed and upset.”
She clutched her fingers together in her lap. “Definitely.” She pulled in a breath. “But I’m working on it.”
“I bet a hot shower and a change of clothes would go a long way toward making you more comfortable.”
“I would love that.”
“Then we’d better get inside.”
He went around and got her suitcase. She’d opened her door and scooted to the edge of the seat, looking down at the ground. Her pink toes dangled as she contemplated dropping to the floor. She was wearing flip-flops, which he hadn’t noticed before. Since she’d been getting married on the beach, it made sense.
“Hey.”
She looked up.
“Need help?”
“No thanks.”
She reached up and grabbed the handle over the door, then stepped out onto the rain-slick running board before dropping to the floor. When she was flat on the floor, he realized that the top of her head came to the bottom of his pecs. She tilted her head back and gazed up at him through the makeup smearing her face.
Then she smiled, a pretty baring of teeth that transformed her face. There was warmth and homecoming in that smile, and his gut clenched at the sight of it. He had an insane urge to put his fingers in her hair and bury his face in the long, messy strands.
Insane because he didn’t know her at all. She could be a serial killer—though his gut insisted she wasn’t.
“I grew up in the country,” she said, oblivious to the tattoo of his heart against his ribs or the confusion swirling inside him. “I’m used to tall trucks and long drops.”
There was a musical twang in her voice that reminded him of lazy summer days and listening to the radio with his friends, when his only cares had been being the best football player he could be and asking girls out.
Chris had been a big part of those days, playing quarterback to his receiver, laughing and sneaking the occasional beer when they could. They’d walked on the beach, thrown footballs around, and hammed it up for the girls. Since Bridle Beach always had tourists, they’d had even more girls to impress than usual.
God, those were innocent days.
“Hey,” Sabrina said. Her hand settled on his sleeve, and he looked down to find her brows lowered and an expression of concern on her face. “You okay?”
Mal cleared his throat. “Yeah, fine. It’s been a long day.” He tucked her arm into his elbow and started toward the door leading inside, pulling her suitcase along behind him. “I’m thinking a hot shower is something I probably oughta indulge in as well.” He winked at her to put her at ease again. “Good thing I’ve got enough bathrooms and a big hot-water tank.”
Her smile lit up her face once more. He liked that. Wondered what she’d look like without the raccoon makeup, how pretty her smile would be then.
“You’re speaking my kind of language, Mal.”
He stopped and pulled out his keys, then unlocked the door and punched in his alarm code. Sabrina followed him inside. When they stepped from the mudroom into the kitchen, she made a noise.
He turned to see what the problem was. She stood there with wide eyes, gazing past him. He knew what she saw. The kitchen was state of the art with marble counters, lots of cabinets, and stainless steel appliances. That wasn’t what had her attention, however. The room opened onto a living area that had floor-to-ceiling windows facing a covered lanai and, beyond that, the Gulf of Mexico.
Right now, the gulf was boiling with the storm, and rain slashed down in sheets. A bolt of lightning flashed and illuminated the sky. It was rough and savage and beautiful, and he loved it. His home in San Francisco looked out on the bay. As beautiful as that was, it didn’t compare to this view.
“Every room has a view,” he told her. The architect had recommended he build it this way so any guests could enjoy the scenery no matter where they were in the house. It had sounded like a good idea, so he’d agreed.
“It’s beautiful.”
It was, except it felt emptier today than it ever had before. With Chris gone, everything was wrong. Half of him was missing and always would be.
He had a strong urge to howl.
“Thanks.”
She dropped her gaze suddenly, and he knew she was uncomfortable. That he was making her that way. He had no business being around anyone right now, but what had the alternative been? Leave her on the side of the road?
He rubbed his temples between thumb and forefinger. “I’m, uh, rather beat, so take any room you like. Think about where you’d like to go when this clears up.”
He didn’t wait for her reply.