Chapter 10

Holland

After what felt like forever—an amount of time still not long enough for me to get over how natural it felt to be in the circle of Hale’s massive arms—our car finally stopped at the bottom and the ride operator opened the door for us to get out. I pried myself from Hale’s side and stepped out onto the platform. My mind should have been racing. I should have been embarrassed, or self-conscious, or…something. But instead I felt like I was waking up from a sweet nap under a heavy soft blanket, my mind slightly fuzzy and my body still buzzing with the last vestiges of some dream.

We stepped back down onto the pier, Hale still shouldering my heavy bag, and he smiled at me as our eyes met. His face was clearer than I’d seen it, the trouble that so often stormed through his eyes gone for now.

In silence we walked to the edge of the pier, winding our way among the tourists and through the vendors until we stood at the railing overlooking the dark murk below. With the barrier pressed against our ribs, we stared out at the expanse of blue, and Hale’s arm went around me once more as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I didn’t say anything, just stood in wonder as I tried to process the feelings rushing through me. Hale was at my side, huge, strong and stoic, and I felt safe and taken care of in a way I hadn’t in as long as I’d been old enough to be conscious of the meaning of those words. When I was small, Delia used to wrap her arms around me as I lay in her bed, our lean little-girl bodies pressed together. She had whispered to me when I was frightened, telling me stories full of the things we both dreamed of—family, home, love. But that hadn’t been the same. Hale’s nearness was bigger, stronger. And while I knew Delia loved me with a ferociousness that could defeat many threats and I would always want her on my side, this was different. It occurred to me that Hale could probably take on the whole world if he needed to. He radiated strength and capability.

There was also the fact that he was ridiculously hot, which didn’t hurt. I tried not to focus too much on that, but my heart was stuttering in my chest as his hand traced a line up my shoulder, and my breath caught in my throat when he looked right at me.

This was new to me, this sudden reaction. I just wasn’t the weak-kneed type. If I were, I’d never survive at a place like Cody Tech, where men surrounded me all the time, and they held almost all the power. I was stronger than that. But Hale was different. Hale gave me no choice.

Even when I’d first hated him at the coffeehouse, I’d felt an unwanted reaction to him, some kind of chemical response. Every time I’d seen him since then, I’d felt it—a draw like magnet to metal. I’d begun to notice that spending time with him and fighting the instinct—to move nearer, to touch him, to breathe him—was exhausting. My body wanted him, and having been in his arms, pressed into the broad strength of his chest, all I felt now was his absence.

As if he knew what I was thinking, Hale squeezed me against him, and then turned to look down at me. I wasn’t a small woman, and I wasn’t meek. I was five-foot-seven and most people used the word “outspoken” to describe me. It was an underhanded compliment, but I was fine with that. I owned it. Despite that, Hale made me feel tiny, peering down from what had to be at least six-foot-three. “You okay now?” His voice was tender, with a rough edge to it that sent a chill up my spine.

I nodded. “Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have gotten on. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I didn’t give you a lot of choice. I’m sorry.”

I forced myself to step away, fought the desire to stay right where I was, in Hale’s orbit. “I should let you get back to your life, Hale. It’s Saturday. I’m sure you have a million things planned for the weekend.” In my mind I saw him with faceless women, those sable eyes on other faces, those big hands on other shoulders. The image turned my thoughts dark and I took another step away.

Hale laughed, and it was an almost mournful sound. “My weekends are less jam-packed than they used to be. This is the most social I’ve been in a long time.”

He smiled at me, his hand reaching out to catch my waist and those thick fingers sliding down the curve of my back and sending spikes of anticipation through me as they did. I swallowed hard, trying to turn off my reactions to him.

There was a deep sadness in his voice that pulled at my heart, and I wondered how I would feel if I’d found out I was adopted after spending twenty or thirty years with a family I’d believed was my blood. I guess it made sense that Hale was a little off center, but he was a grown man, too. If he was raised in a loving home, why the hell did it matter? This thought flew through my mind and I was close to giving it voice when Hale bent nearer and brushed the lips I’d been staring at for days softly across my forehead, sending my thoughts flying in all directions, scattering into little piles I’d have to sort through later.

His mouth on my forehead was softness and heat, and his hand tightened around my waist and then slid around to press into the small of my back, nudging me toward him and then pulling me against him again.

Without thinking, I leaned my head back and met his eyes. Unspoken words flew between us, and then he dropped his head again, claiming my mouth with his own. Hale’s lips met mine with a fierce intent, and I opened my mouth to him, our tongues sliding together within seconds of beginning the kiss. My entire body lit up in response, and his hand dropped lower, cupping my ass and pulling me against his side tightly. This kiss wasn’t like any other I’d shared. It had a life of its own, and it surged and expanded, sending every nerve cell I had into a furious dance. The soft stubble of his chin and cheeks rubbed against my jaw, chafing, and the sensation created an exquisite ache inside me. I tried to think about what we were doing, whether it made sense, if we should stop—but rational thought was a distant memory as Hale’s mouth commanded my attention.

After a long minute, he pulled back. His dark eyes were cloudy, and his skin was flushed under the scruff of his dark blond beard. He pressed his forehead to mine, as if he needed to regain his breath, and then he pulled back to look at me.

To my surprise, he grinned, and then laughed. And for the first time, Hale’s laugh didn’t sound tinged with sadness.

“What?” I laughed in response. “You better not be laughing at me.” I narrowed my eyes in mock anger.

“No,” he said, his arm still strong around me. “I don’t know why I’m laughing…I haven’t felt like laughing in a long time, though, so I’m just going with it.”

“Okay,” I said, my body still vibrating under his touch. It felt natural standing with him in this half-embrace, an easy joviality mixing with the tension flaring between us.

We didn’t discuss it, but together we turned from the railing and made our way back to the foot of the pier, eventually crossing the street and resuming our slow pace down Ocean Avenue. Hale stopped us in front of a bar with tables spilling out onto the sidewalk. “Want to get a drink?”

I loved the idea of sitting at one of the high tables in the sun with Hale, sipping a margarita or a glass of champagne as if I were just a regular girl without a care in the world and not someone standing on the precipice of the biggest leap of her life. It took me a second too long to reply, and Hale turned back to the street.

“Yeah, I should probably…” He let his hand slide off my hip.

I stopped walking, surprised how much I wanted that hand back, wanted his attention focused on me again. I took a breath and let myself leap, only this wasn’t the leap I’d been thinking about seconds ago. This wasn’t my career, my life, my future. This was what I wanted right now, in this moment. Maybe for once it would be okay to let myself have it. “I was just trying to decide between a margarita and a mojito,” I said.

His face cleared, and the eyes danced. “Is that right?” He looked happy, a light dancing through the dark eyes for a brief second.

What could one drink hurt? I had the rest of the weekend to focus and prepare. I’d say goodbye to Hale after our drink and buckle down to work in my dark, quiet apartment. Alone.

Hale’s hand slipped back around my waist, and he steered me toward a table. He pulled out a chair for me in the corner, and I sat down and ordered a margarita, enjoying a strange sensation that felt like being inside someone else’s dream.

We both watched the crowd around us as we waited for our drinks, but once they arrived, I could feel Hale’s eyes on me.

“To you—to your dreams,” he suggested, holding his beer aloft.

Guilt pinged through me, but I held up my drink. “To you, for helping me get closer,” I suggested instead.

Our glasses clinked as our eyes met, and I drank a long swallow of tangy sweet margarita and watched Hale’s eyes close against his cheek as he swallowed his beer. His thick lashes were dark on his skin, and the sight made me want to touch his cheek, feel the contrast of his beard to his smooth skin. I swallowed another sip and smiled at my own irrational mind, usually so well contained within my world of plans and constraints, suddenly zinging wildly out of my control.