by Ellie Hall
She followed his gaze.
Blake rose to his feet, pulled out a weapon, and took aim.
Chapter 6
Blake
Blake fired the BB Gun at the drone. With precise aim, he hit it once, twice, three times before it fell from the sky and landed down the beach.
“What did you do?” Cece’s voice strained with concern. “Why—?”
“To protect you,” he said, striding toward the wreckage.
“From a bird?” she asked, hurrying after him.
“No, a drone.”
He paused long enough to be sure that the comment registered. Then he continued on to collect what remained of the machine. “Who knew you were here?” he called over his shoulder.
“Why would—?” Her expression shifted from plaintive to confused to irritated. That last one was quickly becoming his favorite because of how pink her cheeks got and how she’d narrow her eyes.
“Lizzie and—”
“The DJ.” It was a statement. Not a question.
“I texted him last night. He wanted to meet. I told him—”
“Be careful who you trust, Cecelia.”
He didn’t wait to see how that comment landed because from the outside, he was probably the last person she ought to trust. He swiftly picked up the drone. Whoever operated it must’ve been offshore and possibly long gone. He had surveillance surrounding the island and would soon learn the owner of the boat, trace the source, and take care of the problem.
“Anyway, you didn’t have to shoot it out of the sky,” he said.
“Flying them here without authorization is illegal.”
“Island law?” she asked. “Maybe I should know my rights in that case.”
“My law, Cecilia.” He pinned her in place with his eyes.
Hers stormed in defiance. “Jaxon wouldn’t be spying on me with a drone. He has enough difficulty getting off the couch; he wouldn’t fly down here, track me down, and then take photos of me sitting on the beach.”
“No?” Blake bristled at each mention of the ex-boyfriend but was relieved that there was no love lost between them. “Would he be above selling you out?”
“To who—?”
She must not have gotten much rest because she was particularly slow on the uptake.
“Oh. Yeah. The paparazzi. Okay, maybe I’m glad you shot it down then.”
“They give you much trouble?”
“You have no idea. They follow my every move, twenty-four hours a day.” She went on to tell him how most recently they’d nearly run her car off the road and threw rotten food at it.
“This is how it works here. No cameras. No photos. No paparazzi. This is a hideaway of sorts, an oasis, a sanctuary for high profile people to experience anonymity.”
He expected her to nod in agreement. To promise not to tell anyone where she was. Instead, she said, “What are you hiding from?”
A grunt escaped. “I have to consult security. Stay out of trouble.” He padded through the sand, eager to get away from the question she’d asked and the way being next to her made him feel: like a live wire, a fuse about to detonate. He’d played the bad boy role for years, but when he departed from the mainland, he left that behind and learned to control his urges. Apparently, being around Cece ignited something inside of him.
“Wait. Why’d you sit with me to watch the sunrise?” she called.
“I wanted to make sure you kept your feet on land.” He eyed the ocean. “The surf is big today. Use the pool if you want to cool off.”
“Remember, I can’t swim.”
Carrying the drone, he stomped away. He was the one who needed to cool off. He was angry at her parents for not being there, at the ex-boyfriend for selling out her location, at the paparazzi for pursuing her, and at himself. How much pain could one woman sustain? How could he ease it?
Mostly he was heated up because she made his heart slam against his chest and the blood flood his veins. He didn’t have time for that.
After consulting the rest of the security team, Blake learned the drone was unlicensed, but they were reviewing security footage and investigating the breach. He spent the rest of the morning in the office, assisting the team and waiting for the technician to repair the machine so they could find out if the culprits had gotten any relevant recordings and transmitted them wirelessly.
If so, the paparazzi would likely broadcast them and that would provide another way to find the source—not that he wanted Cece to have more of her life exposed to the public, particularly her whereabouts. He’d been dealing with notable public figures for years and knew that photographers who invaded the privacy and jeopardized the safety of his guests—or anyone for that matter—were scum. He’d make them pay.
By the end of the day, the security team had a couple of solid leads and he wandered down to the beach to watch the sunset. The glowing orb dipped lower and lower toward the sea. The surf wasn’t as big as the day before, but he kept a watchful eye on the horizon in case Cece got any crazy ideas. There were coves and plenty of other places at the resort where the waves were gentler and of course, multiple pools and the private hot tubs at each of the cabanas.
As light gave way to shadow, Cece’s silhouette, a perfect hourglass as her hips swayed side to side, silently approached and then slid into the sand beside him. “Do you watch it set every night?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Must be nice.”
“Reminds me to be thankful that another day has passed.”
“What about the sunrise? Having gratitude for the day to come…” She trailed off.
Her muscles weren’t as tightly coiled as they were earlier. Maybe she’d taken a nap or gotten a massage. He could certainly use one. Tension rolled off him in waves. He didn’t want to chat, to get to know her, to mend things between them. He was perfectly content living his quiet island life. He didn’t need her tempting him with her bright smile, the desire to protect her from her struggles, or anything having to do with her perfect shape. He fixed his eyes on the horizon.
“What are you grateful for?” she asked.
“Right now. It’s all we truly have.”
She seemed to contemplate this. “What about things from the past? For instance, I’m thankful for God’s saving grace, my voice, my sister.” She went quiet a beat then cleared her throat. “That was who I meant when I said we earlier.”
“You guys had a rough time growing up, huh?” The thought of her having to deal with her mother’s death, the absent, greedy father, and everything that went along with it, made his jaw tighten.
“We made it through.”
“Siblings are good like that.”
“You have a bunch of brothers, right?”
“Four. You have just the one sister?”
“Not anymore.” Her chin fell to her chest.
He stiffened and his head jerked to her with sudden clarity.
She couldn’t meet his eyes but told the story of her sister’s diagnosis, treatments, and then the loss. Toward the end of the story, the dusky shadows threatened to take her voice as it fell to a whisper. It was like she was fading before his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“That’s what everyone says.”
“No, I’m sorry because I know exactly how it feels. I’m sorry for your pain. I lost a sister too. We weren’t as close as you and Serena, but it’s a particular kind of devastation.”
“She was the only family I had.”
“Trust me, I understand.”
“You have your brothers though.”
Blake shook his head. “Shortly after our father died, we had a falling out. Haven’t spoken since.” He went silent, not because he didn’t want to talk about it, though he didn’t, but because more than anything, he wanted to help her, though he wasn’t sure how.
At last, he said, “Have you eaten anything?”
“A muffin this morning.”
“We have five-star chefs at Hawkins Harbo
r Resort and that’s all you’ve eaten?” He pushed to standing and held out his hand to help her up. “Come on, I don’t want you passing out on me again, Cecilia.”
As they walked toward the other side of the island, he was sure to explain the extent of the amenities available, emphasizing the assortment of cuisines and dishes. “Anything you want from the finest caviar, king crab, calamari. Or if gummy bears and M&Ms are more your thing we can get them too.”
“Yes, both, please. Usually, they’re on my rider.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded mock-indulgently.
“What? I have a sweet tooth.”
He also told her she could go horseback riding, snorkeling, and yachting if she so desired. “As they say your wish is my command.”
“If that’s the case, I wish to learn how to swim.”
“Absolutely.” Relief swept through him because she was being practical.
“I want you to teach me,” she added.
Had there been a stone in his path, he would’ve tripped over it. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.” Mostly because that meant she’d be in a bathing suit.
“You must be a strong swimmer, considering you pulled me out of the heavy waves.”
He shuddered a breath.
“I am starved,” she said. Mercifully, they set foot in the onsite restaurant and the smells of herby and fresh food cooking distracted her.
It was just the two of them in the space with dark wood tables and low, intimate lighting. Several other guests were staying on the island, but most everyone kept to themselves. The place was large enough and the people few that they stayed out of each other’s way.
Blake ordered the nightly special and Cece ordered a salad with salmon.
“So you say my wish is your command.” She drummed her fingers on the table. It seemed like she was trying hard to think of something that would irritate him. “Swim lessons.”
“I’ll have someone come to the island. A professional?”
“Would you be anything but professional.”
He grunted and jiggled the ice in his glass.
“Please teach me how to swim.”
“Am I going to regret pulling you from the surf?”
“That’s up to you.” There was something spicy, daring in the statement that had nothing to do with the firecracker shrimp the server brought—compliments of the chef. She popped one in her mouth. “Is there a place here where I can play music? Record if I wish to?”
“I’m not a genie with three wishes.”
“You said my wish is your command.”
“You’re a diva.”
“I am not,” she retorted as heat crept up her neck. “But at least I’m not a smug, arrogant, macho…”
“Swim instructor? You wouldn’t want me to, oh, I don’t know, leave you in the middle of the ocean.”
“Fine,” she said, pulling back on her insults. “But you’re—”
“You were saying something about me being macho?”
“I was going to say conceited.”
“I don’t think that’s what you were going to say,” he muttered as the food arrived.
After a few minutes passed in silence while they ate, he relented. “As for the music studio, it was added about ten years ago, by request of a certain British band who camped out on the island for six months. It was before my time, but legend goes they’re the reason we got the new gazebo over on the point.”
“They donated it?”
“No, they destroyed it and we had to build a new one.”
“Just don’t bother destroying a hotel room when you can demolish a resort.” She harrumphed.
“Something like that.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I need to find my muse. Get back to the music.” Her gaze flitted from him to the window.
“Don’t break anything, please.”
Her brow furrowed and her lips fell. She was already broken by loss.
“I’ll make sure everything is ready for you in the studio. I’m no musician, but in the meantime, it might be helpful if you relax, if you’re seeking your muse, as you said.”
“Funny, you should talk.”
“I’m not seeking my muse.”
His eyes flitted to her.
“What? I am and relaxed.”
She tucked her head in disbelief. “You look relaxed with the long hair and surfer vibe, but you’re so high strung, shooting drones out of the sky and with a watchful eye on everything it seems like you could snap.”
“I’m doing my job and not trying to write a new song.”
Her phone beeped. She gave it her attention, typing rapidly.
He recalled his dare from the night before. “Cecilia, I dare you to relax.”
“I dare you to stop bugging me.” Her eyes didn’t lift from the screen.
“I dare you to leave the phone off for five minutes. Maybe it’s interrupting your creative flow,” he teased.
They went quiet for a minute as the server brought their plates.
“If this is a game of truth or dare, what’s the truth?” She set her napkin in her lap.
“Tell me why can’t you sit still.”
She shifted and her leg jiggled under the table. If he weren’t a gentleman, he would’ve clamped his hand down on it.
She squared her shoulders. “Because if I do the sadness will take me under. I have to keep my head above water. Now you know why I need to learn how to swim.” Her tone was blunt. Behind those words was a threat not to ask more. “My turn. Truth: why won’t you leave me alone?”
“I think you’ll find the answer to that in the answer you just gave. It’s my job to make sure you’re okay.”
“Are you a therapist?”
“I could arrange for one to fly out.”
She rolled her eyes.
He speared a piece of broccoli.
They both sat in frustrated silence.
She fussed with the napkin. “You already rescued me once. I can’t expect you to be there to come to my aid all the time.”
“Why not?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it.
“Because you’re you.” As she spoke, she tapped on her phone’s screen, texting or updating her social media. She groaned, then scrolled some more.
He didn’t want her comment to penetrate his armor, but maybe she already had—the moment he thought he’d lost her when he struggled to revive her on the beach. Then again, he already had lost her years before. But maybe having her return to his life was a sign, a reminder, a lesson.
As he ate, he studied her face, illuminated by the candlelight in the restaurant but also by the blue glow of the phone. Her expression was strained. He knew well enough the dangers of social media, the comments, criticisms, and comparisons. During the course of their conversation, it was like he slowly lost her to the trappings of the online world.
“Is your dinner okay? You’ve hardly eaten.” He cast his words to see what he might catch.
Without looking up from the screen she said, “Yes, it’s great. I just keep seeing these comments people are making about my hair. The Hair. There’s one of me before and after captioned Hair she is. Hair she isn’t. Ha ha,” she said dryly. “Or how about this one To cut the long story short, Cece Sparrow won’t be rescued like Rapunzel anytime soon.” Her fingers brushed the regrowth.
“Your hair wasn’t long enough to drop from a tower.” He wasn’t sure if it was time for jokes.
She almost smiled. “Serena would’ve thought it was funny. I mean, she didn’t want me to cut it off, but she said I pulled it off.”
“You do and you shouldn’t look at stuff like that on the internet.”
“I know I have to stop, but it’s like I’m as addicted to the compliments as I am to the rejections. That’s what Serena used to say.”
“You’re missing out on what’s in front of you,” he said plainly.
“Huh,” she asked at the same time as he slipped the phone from her
hand.
“Blake, give it back.”
“Only if you leave it in your room, put it in a drawer, and don’t look at it for a week.”
“I can’t—” She paused.
His eyes bore into her. He was serious.
“Is this another dare?”
“No, it’s not. But I do dare you to write a song.”
She tilted her head as though accepting his challenge. “Then I dare you to leave me alone.”
That wouldn’t be easy. “What about the swim lessons?”
She pinched her lips together. “Except during swim lessons.”
“Good thing you can’t bring your phone in the water,” he snapped back.
Chapter 7
Cece
Cece informed her online followers she was doing a digital detox and taking the week off. She didn’t even wait to gauge the response from her fans before powering down her phone.
As the days passed, there were times when she craved a check-in, a status update, or to snap and post a selfie, but she resisted. She’d cut herself off.
What she couldn’t resist was Blake. Not in his swim trunks, all muscular and tan and hunky while he waited for her by the pool. He didn’t follow through with the dare to leave her alone either. His gaze followed her as she wound past the lounge chairs then slipped off her sandals and sarong. He tore his eyes from her, looked up to the sky, and dove into the pool.
She’d slathered her entire body in sunblock and was thankful for the bit of regrowth of her hair to protect her head. The Caribbean sun was fierce and she was only made hotter when he dunked into the water then came up, glistening as he brushed his hair back.
“Come on in. This is the shallow end; you can stand,” he teased.
She forced back the retort on her tongue because she wanted to learn how to swim and not say or do anything that would cause him to leave her floundering.
“Here’s what I want to know. How did you avoid learning how to swim your whole life?” he asked when she waded in.
She moved slowly into the water. Even though the air was warm, she winced as it reached her belly. “Lots of people don’t know how to swim. There was hardly a creek in the town where I grew up in central Florida, and it was occupied by alligators so I steered clear of it.”