by Zoe York
“Not too soon.” If he hadn’t left his phone in the room, he’d take her picture right now. Glowing, happy, and sexy too. “Be happy, Tor. Don’t worry what anyone thinks.”
“I won’t.” A shadow crossed her face, but she jutted her jaw forward and shook it off. “One more swim before we go shopping?”
She stood and dove into the pool. He followed, matching her pace, and they hit the far wall at the same time.
If she wanted a race, he’d give her one. He’d give her anything she wanted in the world.
Which meant, after they sprinted back to their lounge chairs, they walked the long way back to their villa so they could say hi to the groundskeeper with the parrot on his shoulder. Then they got changed and drove into town. Tori pulled out a Frommers’ Guide to Miralinda.
It looked like one of her textbooks. Well thumbed and carefully tagged with Post-It notes.
“Souvenirs first, then I want to try…” She flipped to a page marked by a pink sticker. “Beignets. Apparently Miralinda has the best outside of New Orleans.”
“There’s our mission, then.”
“There’s public parking just before we hit downtown,” she said, navigating from the map at the front of her book. “On the right.”
He found it easily. Petite Ciotat wasn’t big at all. But it was bustling, especially as they headed for a market Tori knew about, on a side street. There was enough French and Spanish being spoken that it wasn’t all American tourists, either.
And the wares sold seemed unique to the island as well. They struck up a conversation with an American ex-pat selling handmade soap and beauty products. Tori bought gift packs for both of her sisters, and took the woman’s card. At the next table, they found a small painting for her father, and then two tables further still, they came across beautiful island jewelry.
Tori’s eyes lit up.
Done, Logan thought. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but she deserved something new and shiny and just for her.
Luckily, she didn’t need any convincing. After fingering a bracelet, then a necklace, she finally settled on a pair of earrings. “They’re beautiful,” she said to the black woman behind the table, who spoke broken English with a thick French island accent. “Très belle. Merci.”
“I’ve never heard you speak French before,” he said after they moved away.
“When in Miralinda,” she murmured. “And it’s fun to try. I hope it’s not rude. I maybe should have taken lessons or something, but—”
He stopped and turned, cutting her off. “Nobody expects you to take language lessons before going on vacation, Tor.”
“I know, but—”
“You don’t need to try that hard. If it’s fun, that’s great, but… you are perfect just the way you are. Never doubt that, okay?” He frowned.
She blinked up at him in surprise. “Okay.” Then she slid her arm through his and tugged him back into the throng of shoppers. “You’re very sweet to me.”
“I have my moments.”
He didn’t tell her that most of the time he was constantly monitoring his surroundings for a threat level assessment. That wasn’t sweet. It was just second-nature. It was also how he spotted, at the far end of the market, a big body moving quickly. Immediately he marked the man as military, and there was something—
Tori caught the way he zoomed in on a target. “What is it?”
He frowned. He wasn’t sure, exactly. “I could have sworn I saw a guy I know from work. We’re not on the same team, but we’ve trained together.”
“Small world.”
“Yeah.” He sped up and craned his neck. No doubt about it, that was Mick Frasier, who’d gotten out of the navy a couple years back. “Do you mind if we go over and say hi?”
“Not at all.”
He took her hand and lead her through the market, quickly navigating past vendors and shoppers, until they spilled out into an open square with a fountain in the middle. And on the other side, there was Mick—and he wasn’t alone.
“Small world indeed,” Logan said, his face breaking out in a grin. “Come on, I want you to meet some of my friends.” He raised his voice. “Who let you jerks leave California?”
Three heads swiveled in his direction. Mick Frasier, Brayden Lucas, and Will Parry.
Mick strode forward. The leg injury that forced him off the SEAL teams still gave him a slight limp, but the man looked tan, relaxed, and most of all, happy. “Logan Dwyer, what the hell are you doing here?”
They shook hands. “I’m on vacation with my friend Victoria.” He made introductions, and Tori shook hands with all the guys. “We’re staying at Le Soleil. What are you doing here?”
“We live here. Started an executive training firm. It’s a long story. How much time do you have?”
“Not that much right now, we’re on a mission to find beignets.”
Beside him, Tori shook her head. “That’s not that important, if you want to visit.”
He wrapped his arm around her. “Maybe later in the week?”
She looked at him, uncertainty all over her face. That right there was all the reason he needed to keep this trip focused on her. A SEAL reunion could happen another time.
Will didn’t miss a beat. “The bakery on the main drag is the best. I go there almost every morning, first thing. The coffee shop next door is excellent, too.”
“Thanks, man.”
“No problem. And hey, that’s our office just up there.” Will turned and pointed to a wide set of stairs. “One of us is there during business hours most of the time. And if we’re not there, we’re at Villa Sucre, just outside of town.”
Brayden pulled out a card and handed it over. “Come check it out. I’m almost done building an obstacle course. We could have a race, show your friend here how consistently I can kick your ass.”
Logan howled. That was hardly true. “It’s on, brother.”
Brayden chuckled, and they clapped their hands together again before saying goodbye.
The bakery was easily found, and the beignets were as good as promised. Logan took a trio of adorable pictures of Tori, with her phone, and when she was finished devouring the donut, she posted one of them to Instagram with a quick note that she was having a great time. Beignets are healing, she wrote, and showed it to Logan before posting it for the world to see.
It didn’t take long for her phone to blow up with notifications. They went to the coffee shop for cappuccinos, and while she checked those messages, Logan did his own check-in with the world. Nothing from his chain of command, which was good. He sent an email to Quinn Parry, telling him he’d run into his brother, and they should catch up when he was back in Coronado.
When he glanced up from sending that message, Tori was scowling at her phone.
“What is it?”
Her lips pulled tight. “Stephen liked my photo.”
Well, that was fucking ballsy. Was the guy sitting around on Instagram waiting for her to pop up? “How do you feel?”
She scowled. “I don’t know.”
In her hand, her phone vibrated.
Her eyes went wide. “It’s him. Calling. Now.”
“Steve?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to answer it?”
“I should.” She stared at the screen.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” She swallowed hard enough he could see her throat moving. “Yeah, okay. Uh, I’m going to…” She hopped up and gave Logan a grimace. “Give me a few.”
You’ll give her anything she wants in the world. And right now, she wanted some space. He nodded, hating how his chest hurt. This wasn’t about him.
“Hello?” He heard her answer the phone, her voice getting quieter as she walked off. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. No, I don’t mind that you called, but I’m surprised.”
And then she was gone, out the door, and when he turned to look after a painful few seconds, she’d disappeared. Tucked arou
nd a corner, maybe.
He wouldn’t follow. Instead, he returned their coffee mugs to the counter, then headed back the way they’d come. There was something he wanted to grab at the market.
Chapter Ten
Tori’s heart was pounding a mile a minute. The last thing she wanted to do right now was talk to her ex—the rat-bastard who left her nearly at the altar just a few days earlier.
The hurt woman inside her wanted to call Stephen all sorts of terrible names. Asshole. Jerkface.
But on the other hand, she was a grown-up who would need to disentangle her life from the guy at some point, and the sooner the better. While shock was still protecting her a bit.
And while she still had Logan around the corner to give her a hug when this awkwardness was done with.
It helped that Stephen sounded awkward and unsure on the other end of the line. “How are you doing?”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t know how to answer that.” I kissed Logan. That distracted me nicely. “I’m still in shock.”
“I’m sorry I waited so long.” Not sorry he broke up with her. Just that it took him a while to work up the courage. “I should have been more honest with you. I’d like to be clear that there isn’t anyone else. It’s…it really wasn’t you. You are lovely. But deep down, I was trying to make myself want something for the wrong reasons.”
“You sound like a self-help book.”
He barked a laugh. “Yeah. I guess. I’ll probably be reading a lot of those in the next while. I…I saw your picture. I’m glad you went on the—” He stuttered over honeymoon, cutting himself off. “Trip.”
“Me too.”
“Did you—are you alone?”
Frowning, she thought about how to answer that. And why it gave her a weird, angsty feeling in her chest. He dumped you. It doesn’t matter. “Logan had a week off, so he came with me. He’s been a champ about my rollercoaster feelings.”
There was a long pause before he made a single syllable response. “Ah.”
Well, if he didn’t like the answer… That better not be why he called. “Was there anything else?”
“Uh, yes. Right. I wanted to tell you that I’ve settled the bill with the hotel. Out of my own funds.”
Ten grand down the drain, on top of the deposit. What a waste. “Good.”
“And about the ring—”
She made a face. “I don’t want to keep it. I left it with my sisters to give you.”
“Elspeth said that.”
“You talked to her?”
“Not exactly. She texted me. Twenty-three times.”
Tori snorted, pleasantly surprised. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“Neither did I.”
“I want to say that I’m sorry for the avalanche of Elspeth, but I’m not?”
“No, that’s fair. I deserve some sister-anger. I told her to give you the ring back when you return. I won’t be using it again, and if you can sell it to recoup some of the money…”
“I’ll think about it. But it was a token of something—” She hoped it had been, anyway, and if it hadn’t, maybe she didn’t want to hear that right now. “It’s not just a ring. It represents something. It would be crass to sell it.”
“I understand. In time, I hope that changes. I hope to make this up to you.”
Easier said than done. And just like that, her heart ached. For the lie she fell for, for the thing that would never be. For a figment of her imagination. “I need to get going.”
“Take care of yourself, Victoria.”
She would. But she didn’t need to bear that burden by herself. Logan would be there to help.
Taking a deep breath, she ended the call and turned around. Where was she? She’d walked a couple of blocks while talking to Stephen.
By the time she got back to the cafe, Logan was gone. Her heart raced, panic taking over for a second, before logic took over. He would be back. She could text him. He didn’t know how long she would be, and instead of sitting on his ass, he filled his time with something else. Sightseeing, shopping. She’d find him soon enough.
And then, before the panic could take hold again, he appeared at the end of the block, his hands swinging loose at his sides. He raised one in a casual wave, a smile breaking across his face.
So of course she burst into tears.
Damn it.
He picked up the pace, suddenly running, and stopped in front of her. “Tor, shit, what happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Can I punch him again?”
She shook her head. “It’s not that. It wasn’t—it was fine. He’s an emotionally unavailable mess, and it was awkward, but it was good to talk. Get that first call out of the way.” She sniffled and scrubbed the heels of her palms against her eyes. “This is…I don’t know what this is. I’ve clearly sobered up and it’s time for more beer. Or rum. Is it too early for rum?”
“It is never too early for rum in Miralinda. But first, how about a hug? Because that sounds like—” She flew into his arms and buried her face in his chest. “Ahh, Tor. Yeah, let it out.”
And that’s when she realized she was crying again.
Definitely time for rum.
***
Rum led to dancing, and maybe there was dinner in there too, lobster in a shack by the beach, but it was really just a blur by the end of the night.
The hug before bedtime, though, was crystal clear. Long, lingering. Complicated.
Her head was swimming, and her eyes refused to stay open, but still she stood in the quiet living room of the villa, leaning against her best friend.
Was it a win that they’d gone all day without talking about the kiss from the day before? And he was so warm.
Maybe she should kiss him, just a little. Just to—
“Bedtime, Tori,” Logan murmured, his arms tightening around her. “Come on, my beautiful girl. You’ve had a big day.”
“I’m good,” she protested, but then she was flat on her back, and he was gone.
Sometime around three, she woke up with a nervous jolt, worried she was going to throw up. She tiptoed into her bathroom and poured herself a glass of water.
Then she looked in the mirror and gasped.
Her makeup was running, her hair was an actual bird’s nest, no word of a lie, and she was still in her clothes from the night before.
Why she hadn’t noticed that first, she had no clue, but now her bra hurt like a bitch, and it had to go immediately.
She shrugged out of her sundress, then stripped out of her underwear. A quick face wash, toothbrushing, and a big glass of water to wash down painkillers all helped to make her feel semi-human again.
Then she found sleeping clothes and collapsed back into bed.
For the rest of the night, Tori drifted in the space between sleep and consciousness, and thought of how good Logan’s arms always felt around her. For most of her life, he’d been hugging her, and she’d taken it for granted—how easy it was, how comforting and warm. Safe.
As dawn broke, pink-gray light slowly filling her room, she lay in bed wishing that she could hit a pause button—just until she figured out how she felt about everything.
While she’d given lip service to the idea of a meaningless fling, that just wasn’t how she was built. Sex had to mean something, be an expression of the feelings in a relationship.
No matter what she said to Logan about rebounding, she couldn’t sleep with someone because she had a moment of weakness.
But what they’d done beneath the waterfall…it hadn’t felt like a kiss for kissing’s sake.
Then why did you kiss me today?
Because I was weak.
She jerked upright and shoved her blankets off her legs. She’d completely misunderstood him. Or at least, she was pretty sure…
“Stupid, stupid, stupid…” She tripped over her feet as she tried to jump out of bed, suddenly quite certain their conversation two nights before had gone in the wrong direction. She stopped
in the bathroom to take her pill and brush her teeth, then was out her bedroom door before she realized that she was only wearing a thin tank top and a pair of tiny sleep shorts.
Well, did it really matter? He’d seen her in less.
Hell, he’d kissed her in less.
But now that she was standing in front of his bedroom door, her momentary bravado was sliding fast and furiously away.
Maybe she needed coffee.
Yes.
Coffee.
Because what if she was wrong?
She ran to the living room and opened the door to the villa. Sure enough, the magical creatures that delivered their breakfast had already been there, and she brought in the rolling cart with the covered trays and the precious carafe of strong, black goodness.
She poured herself a cup and took a long, fortifying sip. Then another and another, until the mug was empty.
“Is that breakfast?” Logan rumbled from the hallway.
She spun around. He was wearing…also not much. Her heart skipped a beat as he stretched his arms wide, then scrubbed his fingers through his hair. His abs and chest and shoulders all rippled as he went through the waking-up process right in front of her, and the cargo shorts he’d pulled on—but not fully buttoned up—rode low enough on his hips that she could see the indentation of the muscles there.
“Yep. Coffee?”
He nodded, but didn’t move any closer.
She poured him a mug and added his preferred half-a-spoon of sugar and tiny splash of cream. Her heart pounding, she took it over to him. “Here. And…good morning.”
He looked at the mug in her extended hand, then back up to her face. Up close, she could see he hadn’t slept well, either, and his face was tight and serious. “Morning.”
He didn’t take the coffee. “I wasn’t expecting you up this early, after the way we hit it hard last night.”
“I, uh, couldn’t sleep. I did for a bit, and then I was up. Thinking. How’d you sleep?”
“Like shit.” He grimaced. “I was thinking, too.”