I’D NEVER BEEN MORE IN tune with the sound of someone’s footsteps in my entire life.
As Kate took each hesitant step toward me, I found myself growing more and more aware of the way the sand crushed beneath her feet and how her breaths seemed to falter as she grew near. Even over the roar of the ocean, I could pick out each and every noise she made, as if I’d been preprogrammed to her individual frequency.
I knew I was playing with fire. I’d been in danger of getting burned ever since I met this strange woman.
But I couldn’t seem to help myself.
Is she scared?
Nervous?
Turned on?
Every time I talked myself into following the rules I’d laid out, I would end up right back here.
Breaking them in spades.
Sure, I could reason with myself and say this was all part of the plan. After all, I had sought out to seduce the woman. But I knew that was just more bullshit I was telling myself.
I was stretching this whole thing out. Making every moment last for as long as possible, so I could enjoy it all.
Enjoy her and everything she had to offer.
And didn’t that make me the biggest asshole of them all?
Because I knew how this would end.
I knew.
And she definitely did not.
Finally, I heard the change in water as she approached. It moved differently as she walked toward me, as if it were welcoming her. Every molecule in my body wanted to turn around, to see her beautiful nakedness under the moonlight.
But I’d promised I wouldn’t, and considering everything I’d done so far in the name of professional growth, I owed her that much.
“This water is really fucking cold,” she said, announcing her arrival.
I laughed instantly. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard you curse before.”
She giggled with a slight shiver. “I curse,” she said adamantly before amending, “Mostly in my head, but I do curse.”
I felt her shoulder brush mine as cold salt water sloshed around us. Knowing the depth of the water was enough to completely cover her, I turned.
The tips of her hair were wet as the honey-blonde ends floated weightlessly around her. Without thinking, I reached out, letting several silky strands wrap around the pads of my fingers. It was an intimate thing to do, and I immediately recognized the gesture for what it was, letting my hand fall back to the water.
Awkward silence followed.
“So, this is skinny-dipping then?” she asked as we stood side by side while the waves tried to push past us.
“Yep,” I replied, feeling like a total loser.
I’d coaxed her out here on a dare, and she’d taken me up on it. Now, I was failing the job.
Why was I being such a pussy?
“I thought it would be more…”
“More what?” I asked.
“Exciting,” she answered with a shrug. “Is this how you’re supposed to do it? I mean, maybe I should just go back.”
I could see her retreating into that shell she’d created for herself. The shell that divided Kate from Laura.
I couldn’t allow that.
“Nope. Sorry, that won’t do,” I said a split second before I grabbed her and threw us both into the oncoming wave.
I hadn’t thought this through.
I hadn’t thought about the way our bodies would twist and twine together under the crashing waves of the ocean.
How her skin would caress against mine.
Her deliciously naked skin.
Fuck.
Every neuron in my system fired to life as her legs wrapped around mine. My feet touched the sandy bottom, and I pushed to the surface, our collective breaths gasping for air the instant we broke free.
I expected a giant slap across the face.
Instead, I was met with boisterous laughter.
And a face dunk.
With a mouthful of water, I came back up, sputtering and coughing, but thoroughly amused.
And intent on revenge.
Moving quickly, I reached underneath her and cut her off at the knees. She instantly went down, a look of pure shock as the water engulfed her.
Now, it was my turn to laugh.
“You jerk!” she squealed as her head bobbed back to the surface.
“When you dish it out, you have to be prepared for the consequences.” I chuckled.
“Consequences, huh?” A wicked gleam sparkled in her eyes.
“Don’t,” I warned as I watched her hands form a pyramid along the calm water.
She gave me a smirk, lifting her hands a few inches before splashing me square in the face.
“Cute,” I remarked. “Are you having fun yet?”
“Oh, yes, this is definitely meeting my expectations.” She laughed. “You?”
“Not quite yet, but I can remedy that.”
Confusion marred her beautiful face mere seconds before my hand found her waist. A quick gasp escaped her lips as her body went flush against mine.
“Perfect,” I whispered.
And it was. I could feel the swell of her breasts against my chest, the delicate curves of her waist as it pressed against my throbbing erection.
Yes, definitely perfect.
Looking up at her, I expected to see that mixture of timid excitement I always found so enticing whenever I pushed her past her limits, but what I saw was mostly fear.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, turning away from me.
Stepping back, I gave her some space.
“It’s not you,” she promised. “I just…I haven’t done this—I mean, is it okay if we take it slow?”
“Of course,” I agreed instantly, seeing the insecurity in her eyes.
It was the first time since the night in the bar that I saw no trace of Laura behind those eyes.
Just shy, sweet, vulnerable Kate.
I’d thought that side of her was dull and boring.
But, seeing the pain in her expression, I knew she was anything but.
Kate or Laura—it didn’t matter. I was falling for this woman.
“What kind of work assignment requires wine and cheese?”
My eyelids had barely cracked open. “Are these early morning phone calls going to be a regular thing, Liam? Should I pencil you in? Same time every day?”
“Can’t a brother check in every once in a while?”
“You? No.”
“That hurts, Killian. It really does.”
“What do you want, Liam? And, seriously, stop hacking into my shit. Put your skills to good use and get a fucking job.”
“I’m working on something,” he replied, making my eyes instantly roll.
“Jesus, are you doing illegal shit again? The answer had better be no.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Back to you. Who’s the girl? And don’t change the subject.”
I huffed, knowing he’d deny anything I accused him of anyway.
The little fucker was using my money for one of his illicit money-making schemes.
Again.
“She’s no one,” I replied.
“Do you always fly across the country for no one?”
My eyes squeezed shut as my temples throbbed. “It’s complicated. She’s complicated.”
“Holy shit. You like this woman!”
I sighed. “That’s the complicated part.”
“You’ve got it bad, too. I didn’t think I’d ever see the day. I mean, there were a few near misses when you were young and stupid—or drunk.” He laughed.
“Shut up.”
“Sorry, I’m enjoying this moment.”
“Well, get over it. I need to go,” I huffed, looking over at the small alarm clock next to the bed. It was barely eight o’clock, but for Liam, it was nearly eleven in the morning.
Fucking time change was kicking my ass.
“Hold up, I’m not done with you yet.”
Sitting up, I tried to keep my eyes from closing. “What else do you want? You’ve already raided my bank account, and you’re living in my apartment. Do you want to borrow my clothes now, too?”
“Hell no,” he replied. “I’d rather walk around the city naked than put on your shitty excuse for style.”
I shook my head. I’d almost forgotten what a stuck-up snob my brother was when it came to fashion. “Right, I forgot. You’ll just take my money and buy your own stuff.”
He didn’t have a flashy comeback for that one.
“Look,” he finally said, “there’s a reason I called.”
I waited.
“Do you even remember what today is?” he asked hesitantly.
I pulled my cell phone away from my ear, checking the screen for the date.
Shit.
“No,” I sighed. “I’m sorry, Liam. I completely forgot.”
Silence followed before he spoke, “I figured.”
My fingers slowly massaged my aching forehead. “You’ll put flowers on her grave?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Have you been visiting Dad?”
“Every week.”
“Good. Is he—”
“Any better? No. He has dementia. He’s not going to get better.”
I nodded, knowing he couldn’t see me. “Right. I know.”
“You could still come and see him though.”
“I will,” I promised.
But both of us knew it was a lie.
A lie I’d been using since the day my father entered that nursing home.
My brother might be a moocher, but out of the two of us, he was the better son.
The loving son.
The one who always remembered. The one who put flowers on our mother’s grave, even after my father stopped remembering.
And me?
I was the opposite.
Nothing but an asshole, through and through.
I’d had big plans today.
Well, they were plans at least.
But, instead, thanks to my brother and his ever-faithful reminder of today, I was sitting in my empty motel room, drowning in memories.
“Why do you buy flowers for Mom all the time?” I asked as I paced next to my father with my hands firmly shoved deep in my pockets.
We’d been standing in this florist shop for what felt like an eternity.
He shrugged, his big shoulders rising higher than the top of my head. “I always have.”
“Yeah, but don’t you think she’s tired of it now? I mean, you’ve been doing it for, like, a million years. It’s not like it’s a surprise.”
He looked down at me with an amused expression.
Ever since I was little, I’d sworn, one day, I’d grow tall enough that I’d finally look my father in the eye. So far, in my sixteen years of life, it hadn’t happened. I was starting to believe it never would.
“How long have we been going to that ice cream shop? The one down the street?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Probably since I was little. Maybe even before Liam was born.”
He nodded. “Since you were two. Every Sunday since you were two. Are you tired of it? ’Cause we can stop.”
The chip I’d had on my shoulder since about the age of thirteen wanted to say yes. But I knew better.
That hole-in-the-wall ice cream shop was a tradition. It was the only time of the week when the four of us—my parents, my little brother, and me—would all get together and spend a few minutes as a family.
“Get her the yellow ones,” I finally said.
He simply nodded, a knowing smile appearing on his proud face. “Good boy.”
My father had brought her flowers every week until he finally succumbed to the disease that stole his memories and had to move into a nursing home for his own safety. Sometimes, I wondered how he could possibly remember those damn flowers week after week when there were days when he couldn’t find his way home or even tie his own shoes.
But he had.
Even after she’d been gone for twelve years, he always managed to find her.
My parents’ close friends had always looked up to them and the marriage they held so dear. Long after my mother had died of breast cancer, he never stopped loving her. He never moved on. They were meant to be—or at least, that was what everyone had said.
Everyone but me.
Because no one else had been around to see my father’s health slowly decline. No one else had heard him crying out for her when he woke up and realized, every night, that she was gone. There was only Liam and me to help pay the bills when he couldn’t because he’d spent their life savings on hospital bills and funeral processions.
Love had destroyed him.
It’d destroyed them both.
And, after picking up the pieces of my father’s shattered heart, I’d vowed that I’d never make the same mistake.
I’d never fall in love.
It was exactly the reminder I needed.
I’d been staring at the same blank screen for hours when a quiet knock jolted me out of my comatose state.
Wondering whom it could possibly be, I stomped toward the door, ready to ream the intruder. I’d purposely put the Do Not Disturb sign up, forgoing maid service today, so I could be alone in my silence.
“Did you not read the sign?” I yelled a split second before I saw her.
“I’m sorry,” Kate apologized. “The person at the front desk was nice enough to give me your room number.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” I quickly backtracked. “I thought you were the maid.”
“Do you always yell at the staff?” she asked.
I stepped aside and motioned her to come inside. “No. Sorry, it’s been a rough day.”
As I shut the door behind me, I noticed her taking a quick tour around. I did the same, wondering if I’d left any damning evidence out.
But then again, what did I have exactly?
I’d accomplished absolutely nothing today.
The motel room was small and underwhelming to boot.
After a few seconds, her gaze returned to me. “It’s nice,” she said.
I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s a shithole, but thanks for trying.”
She shrugged. “You won’t be here forever, right?”
I stared at her with a blank expression.
“Your apartment hunt?” she said.
I nodded. “Right. Sorry.”
“You feeling okay?” she asked. “I’m sorry to stop by like this, but I got off work and thought you might want to get dinner.” Her voice faded. “I should have called first.”
She started for the door.
“My mom died,” I finally said.
She swung back around, and her eyes met mine.
“When I was in college. Breast cancer. Twelve years ago today. I didn’t remember,” I confessed.
I’d been standing since she arrived, but after saying those words, I felt physically weak. Sinking to the edge of the bed, I rested my forehead on the palms of my hands as the memories of that day tried to force their way back.
“Plane crash,” Kate said, pulling my attention upward.
“What?” I asked.
“That’s how mine died.”
She took a few steps forward and hesitantly sat down next to me as I processed the words she’d spoken.
“Both of them?”
She simply nodded.
“Jesus.”
“I was supposed to be leaving for a study-abroad program. An entire year in Spain. But, in my haste, I’d forgotten to pack my passport. I realized it the night before my early morning flight.”
“Your parents hopped a flight to get it to you,” I guessed.
“Kind of,” she replied. “Do you remember me telling you I used to go to the beach all the time?”
“Yes.”
“My dad was quite the adventure seeker. He loved to ski and jump out of planes, even fly them. I always loved to brag to my friends that my daddy was a pilot. We never flew far, just to the beach for the weekend or up to Seattle for the day. But it was something we did as a family.”
I remembered the little ice cream shop down the street from our house or sitting in the kitchen, making pasta with my mom. Every family had their traditions.
“Until you didn’t,” I said, knowing the pain she must have felt.
The pain she still felt every day.
“Exactly,” she replied. “No one really knows what happened, how the plane went down. The weather was clear, and it was an easy thirty-minute trip from our house to Portland. The only thing we can figure is, my father got sick, maybe a heart attack or something, and couldn’t land.”
“Is that why you never speak about your family?” I asked, watching her gaze down at her feet.
She nodded. “I’m not sure why I’m even talking about it now.”
“I take it, you never went to Spain?”
“No,” she answered. “I haven’t been on a plane since it happened. How’s that for issues?” A pained laugh broke free from her mouth.
“Join the club,” I said. “I’ve never been to my mother’s gravesite.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “In the beginning, I told myself I wasn’t ready. Total crap. Honestly, I think I’m mad at her.”
“For dying?”
I nodded.
“I get that,” she replied, turning to me.
“Really?”
“I went to a support group for children who’d lost a parent,” she began. “And, while a lot of it was just sitting around, listening to people cry, some of it was helpful. Not that helpful—obviously.” She laughed. “I’m still pretty messed up. But one of the things that stuck out for me was the idea that it was okay to be mad at the dead.”
“Go on.”
“Okay,” she said, her voice becoming more focused and clear. “Have you ever heard the saying, Dying is easy. It’s living that is hard?”
“Yes.”
“I think we all go through this period of grieving where we end up angry at our loved ones for leaving us. Especially when we’re faced with something difficult. For me, it was figuring out all the finances after they died. Having to sign documents I didn’t understand, become an executor of an estate I had no information on. I was furious at them for not preparing me.”
I nodded, completely understanding. “My mom was sick for a long time,” I said. “But she never lost hope. Even on her deathbed, she wouldn’t concede. I remember being so furious because she didn’t allow us the time for a proper good-bye. My final words to her were stupid and meaningless because she couldn’t give in to her fate.” I paused for a second before adding, “I’ve never said that out loud to anyone.”
“Felt good, didn’t it?” She smiled.
“It did. Thanks.”
“You know what else helps with grief?”
“Sex?” I answered, a large grin spreading across my face.
A laugh escaped her lungs. “Food!”
“Well, I guess that will have to do. For now,” I said, lifting my eyebrows in amusement.
I grabbed my keys and her hand as we made our way out for some dinner, no longer thinking about long-lost memories or career advancements.
The only thing on my mind was the beautiful girl next to me and exactly how I was going to keep from falling in love with her.
By the time we got to the restaurant, I was more relaxed than I’d been in days.
That was, until we walked through the door.
“Oh, shit,” I groaned, seeing the massive crowd of dancers in the middle.
Kate turned to me, her teeth digging into that pouty pink lip of hers. “Sorry, I forgot they have a live band here on Fridays. We can go somewhere else,” she offered. “I’m not much of a dancer either.”
I shook my head, leaning into her. “No, it’s fine. You said they had the best Mexican food in town.”
“It’s true!”
“So, lead the way,” I instructed.
She pulled my hand toward the hostess, who happily seated us away from the dance floor. Although it was a lively restaurant, the music wasn’t so bad. It had a good beat and definitely got people moving.
Excluding myself.
“So, you don’t dance?” Kate asked after we were handed our menus.
“No, definitely not,” I replied, checking out the beer selection.
“I’m sensing there’s a story buried in those words?”
I grinned. “Isn’t there always?”
“Oh, come on!” she begged. “I’ll tell you a secret about me.”
I arched my brow. “Oh, really? Do tell.”
Her lips pursed together. She must have thought of a good one because her cheeks suddenly went red. “Okay, but not yet.”
“Well, that’s hardly fair.”
Holding up her hands, she promised, “I swear, I’ll tell you. I just need a little liquor to get the words flowing first.”
That intrigued me. Maybe getting this secret out of her was going to be easier than I’d imagined.
“Okay,” I agreed. “But you promise not to laugh?”
“Absolutely not.” She grinned.
“Fine. But you might think differently of me when this is all said and done.”
She rolled her eyes. “Would you stop stalling?”
I sighed. “When I was little, my mom took my younger brother and me to Broadway. I don’t remember the exact production, but it had a lot of dancing.”
“Most Broadway plays do,” she said.
“Anyway,” I went on, “being all of six years old, I thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.
“You asked for lessons, didn’t you?” she guessed.
“Who’s telling this story?” I laughed.
“It’s not a very good one.” She smiled.
“It gets better. And, yes, I asked for lessons. My dad—the big, burly, tough New Yorker—was totally against it. My mom loved the idea. I think she had visions of me becoming the next Fred Astaire. Naturally, whenever my parents disagreed on something, my mom would always get her way, so I was enrolled in the local dance school.”
“How charming.”
“It was. And I wasn’t that bad,” I said. “But then we got further in, and our instructor began talking about something called a recital.” Her eyes sparkled with keen understanding. “I wasn’t too concerned about whatever the hell a recital was because I thought I was a fucking star, like those guys on Broadway.”
“What happened?” she asked, eager to hear of my inevitable downfall.
“They put me in tights.”
She nearly choked as the laughter tumbled from her lips.
“It’s not funny. I was at a fragile age. And my entire family came. I’m half-Italian on my mom’s side. My dad’s Irish. Do you know how big our family is? We took up half of the theater! For years, I was known as Killer Twinkletoes.”
“Killer?” she asked.
“A nickname,” I clarified. “My little brother’s doing.”
“Well, I’m sorry your childhood was so traumatic. Really, I am.” She grinned as the waitress chose that moment to show up and take our orders.
Kate ordered a frozen margarita while I stuck with a beer on tap.
We continued to chat while our drinks were made. I listened to her talk about her day while I made up more lies about my job search.
“Something will come up,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”
I was about to nod in agreement when someone interrupted me.
“Kate?”
I looked up to see a tall man approaching the table. He appeared to be around my age with light-brown hair and a well-built body. I instantly felt warning signals going off in my brain.
“Brian!” Kate exclaimed before rising to launch herself into the guy’s arms.
My fists tightened at my sides.
“It’s so good to see you!” they both said in unison.
“How long has it been?” Kate asked, stepping back to get a good look at him.
“Too long,” he replied.
“Brian, this is Killian Townes,” she said. “Killian, this is my good friend Brian Chapman. Brian teaches at the local community college, and I was lucky enough to sit in on one of his courses a while ago.”
We stuck out our hands to shake, clearly sizing each other up.
“Nice to meet you,” I said a split second before he did.
“Won’t you join us?” Kate asked, making my eyes widen.
“Oh no, I can’t. I shouldn’t. I’m here with a couple of guy friends. Bachelor party.” He grinned. “But I wouldn’t mind a quick dance if you have a moment.”
She glanced over to me, clearly asking for permission.
Could I say no?
Because I really wanted to.
“I’ll wait for our drinks,” I finally answered.
“Um, sure.” she answered, looking as awkward as I felt. “I’ll be right back.”
“Fantastic,” I grumbled.
I’d been reduced to the table bitch while my date danced with another guy.
From where I was situated, I could still see the dance floor as Brian led Kate toward it. She looked lighter, a happy smile on her face as she reacquainted herself with the tall stranger.
His hand brushed the small of her back, and I felt a growl rumble in my belly.
“Fucking asshat,” I mumbled.
Brian spun her around, and she laughed. Soon, their bodies were so close, there was no doubt what intentions he had for the evening.
Of course, he was an excellent dancer, twirling her with precision at all the right times, only to return her exactly where she’d started.
Fucking right on top of him.
“That’s it,” I growled.
“Sorry?” the waitress asked as she approached, drinks in hand.
“Can you bring me a shot of tequila?” I asked.
She nodded before I added, “Actually, make it two. Oh, and do you see that guy over there? The one with his hands all over my fucking date?”
She turned to where my hand was pointed.
“Does he have a tab open?”
She nodded.
“Good. Put our drinks on his tab.”
She gave me a knowing smirk, making haste back to the bar. Within a few minutes, she returned, tequila shots in both hands. Obviously, she had an interest in how this would all turn out for me.
Guessed I owed her a show.
Taking both amber-colored shots, I downed them one after the other, feeling the cheap liquor burn all the way down.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go reclaim my date,” I announced before adding, “On the dance floor.”
Dance. I was going to go dance.
For a woman.
Damn it all to hell.