by Maya Banks
“Thanks,” she said lightly.
“Not a problem. Now you don’t have sand all over you.”
She glanced down at the sand caked on his feet and legs. “Wait right here. I’ll get some water to rinse you off.”
She hurried inside and filled a pitcher of water and then went back out where he was now sitting in one of the lawn chairs. He dutifully raised each foot for her to rinse and then plopped them back down onto the deck.
“After all that discussion about towels, I left mine back on the beach,” he said.
She blinked. A towel had been the last thing on her mind. “That’s okay. I’ll run in and get us one. If you can wait just a few minutes, I’ll go ahead and change before I come back out.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said lazily as he stretched his arms over his head like he was seeking the sun. He tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, and for a long moment she was riveted to just how beautiful the man was. She was utterly fascinated by him. The idea that man with such hard edges and scarred body—clearly the body of a warrior—could also be so gentle and understanding simply astounded her.
Forcing herself away, she let herself into the house and hurried for her bedroom, where she stripped out of her suit. With a grimace, she glanced down to see that sand had accumulated in some interesting places.
She ducked into the bathroom, turned on the shower and stepped underneath the chilly spray. Shivering the whole time, she quickly rinsed the sand off and decided while she was at it, she’d wash her hair.
Fifteen minutes later and feeling guilty for leaving Garrett for so long, she walked back onto the deck, towel in hand, to see him exactly as she’d left him. Kicked back in the chair, head back, eyes closed and looking completely relaxed.
“Sorry I took so long,” she said. “I had sand everywhere so I showered.”
He cracked one eye open and stared at her. “Yeah, sand in the sensitive parts is a bitch. It can cause some chafing issues.”
“Do you ... do you want to use my shower? You probably have sand issues too.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I could use a quick rinse if you don’t mind me staying in my swim trunks. Otherwise I can just run back over to my place and shower and change.”
It made the most sense for him to just go home. It wasn’t as if he were a long distance. But she hated the idea of him leaving. Even for just a few minutes.
“I don’t mind. You’re welcome to my shower and towels. I only have girly soap. Sorry.”
“I’ll just rinse if you can bear the smell,” he drawled.
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him he smelled so damn good that it would be a sin to use soap at all.
“I’m going to start dinner while you clean up.”
He plopped his legs down and ambled into the cottage ahead of her. He disappeared into her bedroom and she went into the kitchen, so many butterflies scurrying around her belly she felt dizzy.
There was a man in her bedroom. In her bathroom. Taking a shower in her shower. Naked. Right now. She grinned. And she wasn’t even running the other way, hyperventilating or otherwise freaking out. It was a start.
This might even constitute a date. An actual evening with a gorgeous specimen of a man.
She seasoned the brisket, washed the potatoes and put everything into the oven. Then she pulled out the three kinds of beer and her own bottle of wine and went out to the deck to wait for Garrett.
Just a few minutes later, he came out, barefooted and in his swim trunks and looking so delicious she wanted to lick him. He rubbed at his damp hair and then spotted the beer as he closed the glass door behind him.
“Oh hell, you didn’t lie about the beer. I feel so honored that you bought it just for me.”
She gestured toward the bottles. “Take your pick. I had no idea what to get so I grabbed what I could.”
“It looks good to me. It’s wet and cold. That’s all that matters.”
They sat enjoying the afternoon, her with her wine and him with his beer. The sun was settling over the western horizon, plunging the sky into vibrant shades of gold, pink and purple. The huge orange orb reflected and shimmered on the water, sending fingers of fire racing across the still ocean.
“This is my favorite time of day,” she murmured. “The sunsets are so beautiful here. They take my breath away.”
“They remind me of home,” Garrett said. “My brothers and I used to sit out on our back deck, drink a few beers after a long day and watch the sun go down over the lake. We haven’t done that in a while. I’m thinking when I get back home, we need to do it more often.”
Sarah smiled. Then she remembered dinner. “Oh crap! I need to check the brisket!”
She hurried into the house and was immediately surrounded by the scent of cooking meat. It smelled homey and delicious. More importantly, it didn’t smell burnt. She took the casserole dish out of the oven and set it on the stovetop and then she reached in with an oven mitt and retrieved the two potatoes.
The brisket looked perfect. It needed to rest a few minutes so she put the potatoes on a platter along with butter, cheese and sour cream and carried it outside so Garrett could dress his potato while it was still hot.
Then she returned inside to prepare a small salad for herself, get more beer for Garrett and sliced the brisket and arranged it artfully on a chipped platter. Bumping the door open with her hip, she carried the food and drink outside and set everything on the table so they could eat.
“It smells wonderful,” he said with an appreciative sniff.
“We need to eat quick or it’ll cool too fast with all this breeze.”
He chuckled. “I don’t ever dally when it comes to food.”
She sat and they both dug in. Garrett put away a shocking amount of food, but then she’d seen his exercise regime and it was clear he needed a lot of calories. By the time they’d finished dinner, the sun was barely hanging in the distance and in the east, stars had begun popping in the darkening sky.
“I have dessert,” she said.
He visibly perked up at that.
“Chocolate cake. Chocolate frosting. I’ll apologize in advance for the fact the frosting is store-bought.”
“I’m not picky when it comes to sugar.”
She smiled and then hesitated. “Would you ... Would you like to come inside and eat? The bugs will be bad if I turn on the outside light.”
“I’d like that,” he said softly.
She stood and began collecting the dishes. Garrett piled several up and followed her inside to the kitchen.
“Have a seat,” she directed. “I’ll clean the mess later.”
He settled his large frame on the other side of the bar and watched while she uncovered the cake and took out saucers. She cut a huge hunk for Garrett and a much smaller piece for herself and then slid his across the counter to him.
She opted to stand so they faced each other. In truth, she liked watching him.
“Thank you for today,” she said.
He glanced up, his expression curious.
“Swimming. I had fun. It was nice to just relax. The water is fantastic. Everything here is fantastic.”
She tried hard to keep her tone light, speaking as anyone might on vacation, but she couldn’t quite keep the wistful note from her voice. It was hard not to feel guilt or to allow herself to drop her guard even for a moment when the truth lingered so close to the surface. A man was dead and she was involved—responsible—even if she hadn’t pulled the trigger herself.
Even now, there were probably any number of people looking for her. Marcus included, though she couldn’t imagine him not being able to find her if he was set on it. She thought it likely he already knew of her whereabouts, but he was no fool. He had to know that it wasn’t smart for her to be anywhere near him while Allen’s murder was being investigated. His emails had gone from where the hell are you to asking her if she was okay. Yeah, he probably knew exactly where she was.
&
nbsp; Stanley Cross was another matter. A shiver stole down her neck. He wasn’t the type to sit idle and allow just the authorities to investigate his brother’s death. He too would be looking for her and she was well aware of how ruthless he could be.
“You don’t look like you’re thinking fantastic thoughts,” Garrett broke in.
Startled, she settled her gaze back on him to see him watching her thoughtfully. “Sorry. Wandered off for a minute there.”
“Wherever it was, I’d say it wasn’t a pleasant trip.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Want to talk about it?”
She wasn’t sure what surprised her more. His blunt question or the fact that for a moment she had an overwhelming urge to unburden herself. She could just see the direction of that conversation. Garrett struck her as a black-and-white kind of guy. No shades of gray. And her entire situation was so murky that it would make swamp water look like the crystal Caribbean waters.
“Wouldn’t want to ruin what’s been a perfect day,” she said lightly.
He stared intently into her eyes. “Everyone needs somebody to talk to, Sarah. If you ever change your mind, I don’t mind being that person.”
She smiled, warmed to her toes by the sincerity in his tone. “Thank you, Garrett. You’ve been so wonderful.”
“No, thank you,” he countered. “Dinner was wonderful. Dessert was delicious. But the company was superb.”
He rose as he said the last, and panic hit her. She nearly laughed. She wasn’t panicking because he was here in her personal space. She was panicking because he was about to leave.
“It was the least I could do. You’ve done so much for me, Garrett. I really can’t thank you enough.”
He smiled. “Ain’t no thang. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It came out more as a question, and she realized he was leaving it up to her.
“I’d like that. Maybe we could swim again.”
He reached across the bar and cupped his hand over hers. Warm and slightly rough. The feel of his fingers over her skin was electric. Heat pooled in her belly and she was shocked by the instant reaction, that she was capable of responding. She wanted to run around the bar and hug him. She wanted to do a lot more than that, but she stood there, stock still, not wanting the moment to end.
“I’ll be around.”
His hand slid away from hers and she curled her fingers, determined to keep the sensation alive for as long as possible. With a grin and a jaunty wave, he let himself out the door, leaving her in the kitchen to stare after him long after he’d gone.
CHAPTER 11
THE next day another storm rolled in and by early afternoon, the skies were black and threatening and the wind blew in a ceaseless line from the water to shore. Sarah was vexed. She’d woken up feeling alive and ready to roll. She’d planned a trip into town for picnic supplies and then she was going to march over to Garrett’s cottage and invite him to go swimming and have a late lunch.
Now she was stuck indoors watching it rain when she wanted to be outside. With Garrett.
Instead, she curled up with one of the books Garrett had bought her and she cracked open the last chocolate bar. Still, there was a niggling of hope that Garrett would pop over. At what point she’d come to rely on his company, she wasn’t sure, but he’d crept in, slipped through her defenses and she found she quite liked it—a lot. It was nice to have a friend. Someone she could let her guard down around even just for a little while.
She ate some of the leftover brisket. Even cut a piece of the chocolate cake. Then she went back to her book, but unease had settled over her as the sky grew blacker and the wind blew harder. Eventually she gave up on trying to read when she figured out she’d read the same page no less than a dozen times.
She walked back and forth between the front window, which overlooked the beach, and the side window, which afforded her a view of Garrett’s cottage. Waves crashed on the beach with angry slaps and the water, which the day before had been aquamarine was now gray and ominous.
She was being fanciful and letting her anxiety have far too much control.
Then her lights flickered and her pulse ratcheted up about twenty beats per minute. She held her breath as the flickering stopped and let out a sigh of relief.
Her head pounded from all the stress. What she needed was some Tylenol and then she was going to bed and hoping for a better tomorrow. No reason she couldn’t have that swim and picnic then.
She chased the medication down with a glass of water and then changed into her pajamas. Patches was waiting on the bed, having given up her perch beside Sarah on the couch at the first boom of thunder.
“Coward,” Sarah muttered as she crawled under the covers.
Patches gave her a bored look and began licking her paw.
“The least you could have done was keep me company.”
Patches settled her chin flat on the mattress and closed her eyes to show Sarah how really impressed she was with her disdain. With a sigh, Sarah flipped off the lamp and snuggled under the sheets.
Sleep was a long time coming and when it did, it was fractured with images from the past blending with present circumstances. In her dream she was running and Stanley pursued her with a bloody knife. Even as she fought the dream, knowing it wasn’t rational, she couldn’t shake the veil of sleep so that the images would stop.
He called her name. It sounded like a crackly whisper. She frowned. He had a foreign accent. Stanley didn’t have an accent.
She heard it again and this time her eyes flew open just as another boom of thunder exploded across the sky. She lay there, so still her chest barely rose and fell with her breaths. A creak sounded down the hall toward the kitchen.
She bolted from the covers, sending Patches scrambling from the bed. Oh God, oh God. How was she supposed to get out if someone was in her kitchen? Her gaze latched on to the rickety dresser she’d shoved in front of the window. Not such a good idea in hindsight. Still, if she was quiet, she could push it aside enough that she could crawl out the window and run down to Garrett’s cottage.
Who could possibly be after her? If it was the authorities, surely they wouldn’t skulk around in her kitchen. They’d bust in, arrest her and haul her away. But what if Stanley had sent someone after her?
The idea sent a chill snaking down her spine that nearly paralyzed her. She had to force herself to move, to overcome the panic spreading through her like a wildfire.
She inched the dresser away from the window, holding her breath and praying she wouldn’t alert her intruder to the fact she was escaping.
The window slid upward with a groan. Sarah didn’t wait to find out if her intruder had heard. She threw herself out the window and hit the ground below with a painful thud. She slipped in the mud as she struggled to her feet, put her hands down to catch herself and then threw herself forward again.
She hit the beach at a dead run, her feet bogging in the saturated sand. Rain beat down on her, slicking her hair and pajamas to her like a second skin. Her only thought was to get to Garrett.
A prickle of alarm went up Garrett’s nape and tightened every hair on his head. His eyes flew open just seconds before his front door reverberated with fierce pounding. He came awake instantly, reached for the gun underneath the cushion and leapt to his feet.
He was halfway across the room when he heard Sarah’s voice. “Garrett!”
He yanked open the door to see Sarah standing on his porch, soaked to the skin, her hair plastered to her face as water dripped from the ends. Before he could say or ask anything she launched herself at him.
She hit him square in the chest and he wrapped his arms around her to keep them both from going down. She shook violently against him and burrowed deeper as if seeking a way to bury herself completely in his protection. Her heart pounded against his chest, way too fast. As much as he wanted to stand there holding her, he had to find out what the hell had scared her so bad.
He maneuvered them inside a
nd kicked the door shut behind her. Then he laid his gun down on the small table by the window and gently pried her away from his chest.
“Sarah.” He took her shoulders in his hands and forced her to look up at him. He couldn’t tell if the wet was from the rain or her tears, but her eyes were huge and the pupils dilated. He touched her cheek and found her skin icy cold. She shivered underneath his touch and tried to push her way into his arms again. “Sarah,” he said again. With more force this time. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
The blankness in her expression concerned him. The shaking hadn’t stop and had in fact gotten worse as reaction seemed to settle in. She shook so hard that her knees buckled, and she would have gone down if he hadn’t tightened his grip on her arms to keep her standing upright.
With a curse, he hauled her toward the couch and sat her down. He left her long enough to grab a blanket and then he wrapped it gently around her, gathering the ends under her chin so she would be warm.
Her lips quivered and she closed her eyes, her face crumpling. She lowered her head, and her shoulders hunched inward as if she was closing herself off from the world.
He sat beside her and pulled her into his arms, holding her against him so his warmth would bleed into her too-cold skin. Ignoring the fact that she was soaked, he tucked her head underneath his chin and smoothed a hand over her tangled, wet hair.
“Hey, it’s okay now. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything hurt you. You’re safe.”
She snuggled farther into his embrace, her arms leaving the confines of the blanket to clutch desperately at his waist. Finally he gave up on trying to keep her in one place and hauled her into his lap. He leaned back and reached with one arm to gather the blanket around the both of them.
Realizing he wasn’t going to get a word out of her until some of the shock had receded, he concentrated instead on getting her warm and soothing some of the horrible fear in her eyes.