by Brooke Moss
She’d never questioned him about it nor did she want to tell Dylan about it either. The calls were another thing that troubled her about Jake. With Dylan, she knew their trust was mutual, but with Jake, she’d never been quite sure.
“I’d noticed there had been some tension between the two of you lately,” Dylan said as sympathy warmed his gaze. “But you need to know, Kyra, Jake has a tendency to be like that. Flaky. He struggles to commit to things. Max keeps hoping it’s a phase, but I don’t know. He’s old enough to be making better decisions.”
Kyra felt the sting of coming tears and lowered her gaze away from his.
“I keep feeling as though I should give him the benefit of the doubt, but then I think about how easy it was for him to leave me.” She heard the pain in her voice, but couldn’t stop herself from continuing. The dam of emotions she’d kept contained over the past few days released. “I feel like leaving me, especially after a date, should’ve been a struggle, but it wasn’t. I thought I mattered to him, but I’m not sure I do.”
Dylan reached out, his hand going high on her shoulder, his thumb close enough to her neck to caress her lightly, calmingly. She leaned into his touch, enjoying the feel of his hand on her skin, savoring the comfort and serenity it offered her. Without thinking it through, she moved into his arms, her own wrapping around his waist as she hugged him close, relishing the human contact. He went rigid at her touch, the solid muscles of his torso locking before he relaxed into the embrace. His free arm slid around her back, while the hand at her shoulder slipped up behind her neck, gently pressing her head to rest against the warmth of his chest.
“You shouldn’t give him an extra thought if he makes you feel like this, Kyra,” Dylan all but purred soothingly into her ear. “I may not have Jake’s extensive experience in the dating scene, but I have enough of an understanding to know if the person you care for is making you feel this way, then they aren’t worthy of your affection.”
He rested his head softly atop hers and cuddled her tighter.
As she nestled in his arms, Kyra breathed in his scent, enjoying the earthiness of his skin, the slight tartness of his sunscreen and the hint of the fresh smell of soap left behind from his morning shower. She knew what Dylan had said was true, Jake’s actions and feelings were questionable, but she was still conflicted.
In Dylan’s embrace, she struggled to think of Jake and remember why she was upset. She was disappointed, not only with Jake’s behavior, but with the result of their kiss. What they’d shared was pleasant, but far below her hopes and expectations. Yet, just the sensation of being in Dylan’s arms was causing desire to prickle against her skin and feverish lust curled in her belly, swirling lower. He was comforting her, caring for her and all she could think of was how her bare skin felt against the warmth of his and what his lips would be like pressed to hers.
“I know you’re away from home here, Kyra,” Dylan crooned to her, “but don’t ever think you are alone. We’re a family, we support each other.”
His hand drew a trail up her back, from the waistband of her ivory shorts, over the fabric of her violet tank and along the softness of her skin. He caressed up and down her spine, sending tingles of electricity through her to pop rapturously at her peaked nipples.
“I know.” Breathless, she closed her eyes as she reveled in the sensations. “I know you’re here for me.”
“Of course, I am,” he assured her. “I worry about you with him, Kyra. Maybe one day he’ll grow to be like his father, but until then he’ll still be the same lazy, conceited asshole I’ve always known him to be.”
Her body jerked at his words. She didn’t want to admit it, but he was probably right.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to get so heated.”
She pushed out of the comfort of his embrace, just enough to look up at his ruggedly handsome features and gaze into his empathetic blue-green eyes.
“I—” The word barely came out when she opened her mouth.
As she stared up into Dylan’s eyes, at his angular cheekbones, that straight nose, the rough shadow of auburn stubble on his strong jaw, at those full, kissable lips, she found herself enthralled, captivated by the way her heart beat while in his arms. He was close enough she could take a leap and press her mouth to his, to sate the desire building inside of her. But should she? Were these feelings she had for him intensifying because of their natural chemistry? Or were they just a consequence of her lackluster kiss with Jake?
She closed her eyes against the painful, puzzling conflict between her heart and her head. Then she forced herself to step back and break the mesmerizing hold he had over her.
“I—,” she began again, keeping her gaze low as she lifted a hand to slide her sunglasses back over her eyes, “I’m not sure that’s really a fair assessment of Jake.”
“Kyra.” Dylan’s tone was a mixture of defiance and regret. “Don’t be naïve, you’re too smart for that.”
At his comment, a sharp pang pained in her chest and when he reached for her, she moved away, stepping around him to continue along the sand dunes.
“Kyra,” he pleaded, but she didn’t turn around.
“We’re here to work, Dylan,” she snapped, her hand raised over her shoulder to silence him. “Let’s get on with—”
Her words trailed off as she saw it. The disrupted ground, the flagged marker half buried on its side, the unmistakable deep well in the golden sand, all the upsetting signs of another emptied nest.
*
“Number sixty-three?” A slender Asian woman with stylishly cropped black hair and vibrant yellow-framed glasses walked around the counter with a couple of heavy containers in a plastic bag. “Sixty-three?”
Kyra watched from beside the open doorway as a stoutly, bearded man inside the take-out shop stood up and collected his order of Chinese food.
As she turned back to face the quiet, Bargara street, her stomach rumbled loudly. It had been another arduous day, but at least, it was finally Friday night. After she’d discovered the third incident of poaching yesterday, the police had wanted to query every staff member from both Centers in detail. Had they seen anything? Heard anything? Noticed anything out of the ordinary? Anyone acting strangely?
It had been exhausting answering questions, but was worth it. The loss of the turtle eggs hung heavy in her heart ever since the first nest had been ransacked. It infuriated her she couldn’t do more. She’d felt so angry at her uselessness, she was completely drained and hopeless.
To make matters worse, she’d spent all her remaining energy avoiding Jake and Dylan. She wasn’t yet ready to speak to either of them, mainly because she didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t Dylan’s fault she couldn’t make up her mind about her feelings and it wasn’t Jake’s fault she hadn’t felt the connection she hoped for with him. After thinking it over, she’d even wondered if maybe he’d felt the same and had noticed the spark just wasn’t there for them after the kiss.
She sighed deeply and slipped the paper take-out docket into the back pocket of her denim shorts, before rubbing her hands over her tired eyelids. All she wanted to do was eat some Chinese food and laugh at a romantic-comedy while she hid alone in her room.
“Sixty-four? Sixty-four?” The woman with the brightly colored glasses stepped outside the door beside Kyra and looked at her. “Sixty-four?” She asked Kyra directly, lifting up the plastic bag of food in her hand.
Kyra shook her head and wished she was the owner of that number. “No,” she said, grabbing the ticket from her shorts and holding it up to show the lady her digits. “Sixty-six.”
The woman nodded and moved on. “Sixty-four,” she called out again.
“Looks like someone’s getting a take-out fix.”
Kyra recognized the familiar male voice immediately and wondered if she ignored him whether he’d keep on walking and leave her alone. She waited a few more seconds than was socially acceptable while trying to decide, but finally turned to face him.
�
��Hi, Jake.”
His grin was wide and child-like as she greeted him. “Hi, yourself.” Then his brown eyes roamed her face. “You look totally haggard. Tough day at the office?”
She shrugged and then yawned, covering her widening mouth with her hand. “Long day.”
Jake tilted his head to the side, studying her. “Too bad. I was going to invite you for a drink at the bar.” He removed his right hand from the front pocket of his black jeans to point further down the well-lit street. “My shout and all. But, I guess you’re too tired, huh?”
Kyra nodded. “Yes, Jake. Too tired tonight.” She hadn’t meant for it to sound sarcastic, but it had.
“Shame,” he said, stepping closer to her, his eyes darkening flirtatiously. “I have enough money for us to get a motel room.” He waggled an index finger at her. “No drunk driving back to the compound.”
Too weary to decide whether to laugh or be insulted, Kyra crossed her arms over her chest, flattening the feminine frills on her rose-pink blouse. Had he really expected me to jump at that?
She forced a small smile. “I’m glad you’re doing the responsible thing.”
He leaned back and raised his eyebrows. “Have to. If I get into trouble with the cops again, Dad will cut my allowance even more.”
Kyra frowned drowsily and rubbed her fingertips over her left eyelid, then down her cheek. “Didn’t he just raise it?”
Why was she even bothering to prolong the conversation? The sooner he left, the sooner she’d have her meal, head back to base for a movie and then bed.
Jake’s eyes widened and then his brows knit tightly, causing deep grooves to form between them. “Yeah, he has. That’s why I’m so flush, he raised my allowance. But, yeah…” He shrugged almost nervously and then grimaced. “Don’t want to have less money though, you know?”
Kyra pushed hard for another smile. “You have a good night, Jake.”
He flinched and then his face brightened cheerfully. “Yeah, you, too.” He stepped around her and started to walk away. “Have a good night.”
She nodded again and ignored the desire to shoo him quicker with her hand. “Bye.”
He waved, then turned and sprinted away down the street.
“Sixty-six?”
The lady in the yellow glasses appeared beside her again, a plastic bag of food containers in hand. As Kyra swapped her ticket for the food and wished the woman goodnight, she suddenly realized she’d completely missed number sixty-five and was grateful for it.
CHAPTER FIVE
The hot morning sun beat down on Dylan’s bare shoulders as the gentle waves of the blue surf helped to push his kayak further ashore. Before the strong orange plastic of the craft’s hull hit and settled on the submerged golden sand, he swung his legs over the side and into the refreshingly cool, thigh-deep water. With an arm on the kayak, guiding it along, he waded toward Mon Repos beach. The long stretch of pristine sand appeared to be more crowded than a usual Sunday morning. The normally rough surf was more placid today with small, rolling waves curling to shore.
Laughing families created sand-sculptures, played beach cricket and splashed in the shallows, while teenagers and twenty-somethings tossed around a volleyball and sunbathed. Unpatrolled by lifeguards and a favorite nesting area for marine turtles, water play on the beach was often kept to a minimum and signage prevented human visitors from climbing up into the dunes. Dylan couldn’t hide his smile as he admired the beachgoers and their unabashed enjoyment of the day. It always pleased him to see people appreciating and respecting their natural surroundings.
Having survived the stressful events of the past few days, Dylan had spent his morning off travelling up and down the coast communing with nature. He’d needed to get away from everything and get his thoughts about the illegal poaching and his feelings for Kyra in order. Although there had been no breakthroughs to help catch the poachers, he knew everyone was doing their best to solve the problem. Even though he wished he could do more, he was confident the increased patrols, by both the rangers and police, would reveal something soon. It was only his dilemma with Kyra and his confusion over what to do next that troubled him.
Dylan loved having her in his arms and holding her close. Her soft curves had enticed him as he breathed in the floral fragrance of her hair and the sweet scent of her skin. Yet, he’d kept his desires to himself, even when she’d looked up at him, her lips parted as though waiting for his kiss. He’d been the good guy and then screwed everything up by insulting her. He hadn’t meant for it to sound like an accusation, but his heart sagged in his chest when she’d backed away from him. Why had she continued to protect Jake? Surely, she must have seen his true colors.
He pushed away his annoyance, fighting with his train-of-thought, stopping it spiraling again. His lengthy paddle along the coastline had removed some of his frustration, but it hadn’t helped him come to a decision about the woman he loved. He would have to wait for fate to intervene.
Once his kayak bucked against the sand, Dylan continued to drag it up and out of the water. It was common practice for him to carry it all the way up the beach, along the boardwalk and to the trolley he’d left padlocked to a fencepost in the parking lot, but today, he planned to make the most of the beautiful water, before starting the trek home. Leaving the sea craft secured in the softer sand beyond the tide’s reach, Dylan turned and headed back out into the water. It was deliciously cold against the humidity of the day as it churned silkily around him.
When he was waist deep, his black shorts submerged, he heard a sound behind him. A muffled call – his name maybe? He spun around slowly, his whole body bobbing slightly as a salty wave raised the water level and then rolled past him to shore.
“The workaholic has finally decided to chill, I see.” Jake’s yell carried from where he strolled along the sand toward the kayak.
Dylan didn’t think the smart remark deserved a response, nor did he want to leave the pleasure of the undulating ocean, but he inched closer to shore anyway.
“Nice kayak.” Jake stopped beside the vessel, his hands resting low on his hips, over the waistband of his maroon shorts as he looked over it approvingly. When he glanced up again, his toothy grin was smug. “I’m thinking of getting the newer model. You know, the one with the padded seat and back rest. It’s also got a detachable sun-shade awning. Pretty cool, huh?”
Dylan twirled his fingers lightly through the velvet water around him as the force of another wave lifted him to his toes. “You’ve been saving then? I didn’t think that was a skill in your repertoire.”
“Yeah,” Jake yelled in reply. “Something like that.”
Dylan stared him down as the silence lengthened between them. He didn’t want to have the jerk ruin his day of rest and couldn’t understand why Jake was bothering to take the time to talk to him either. Neither was each other’s favorite person. Even though Dylan did his best to get along with him to appease Max, Jake always pushed the limits.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Dylan’s grimace tightened his jaw. “What do you want from me, Jake?”
Jake padded down to the water’s edge, bare chest puffing slightly as though preparing his defenses. When his feet slipped into the shallows, he stopped, his grin twitching. “Don’t think you could do me a favor, do you?”
Dylan should’ve predicted it. Of course, Jake wanted a favor. The entitled idiot always wanted something without offering anything in return.
“I wasn’t aware we were the kind of people who did favors for each other.” Dylan did his best to remain matter-of-fact.
“What kind of people? Friends?”
Jake’s jovial expression didn’t soften Dylan’s even slightly.
“Fine.” Jake clawed his fingers through his windblown, light-brown hair. “So, we’re not. Doesn’t mean you can’t do me a favor?”
Dylan wanted to roll his eyes. “If you don’t spit it out in the next few seconds, then the only answer you’ll get will be no.”
&nbs
p; Jake threw up his hands, his expression morphing into desperation, then frustration. “Just tell Kyra I’m not a complete dick, will you?”
Dylan’s left eyebrow shot up. “Excuse me?”
Jake stepped further into the water. “Kyra’s good, you know? She’s the best. I just don’t want her to hate me.”
“Maybe,” Dylan began with a half-hearted shrug, “she won’t think you’re such a dick if you stop behaving like one.”
Jake’s unimpressed expression had Dylan’s lips curving in a smile.
“Okay.” Dylan heard the slight lilt of laughter in his voice and hoped Jake didn’t notice. “I won’t make you any promises. I’m not a liar, Jake. I won’t lie for you, but maybe if you start helping out at the Turtle Center a little more with the extra patrols, maybe even put your name down to join those of us who are going to start camping out on the dunes until we catch those lowlifes, maybe then I’ll start spreading the word about your good deeds.”
Though the concept of talking up another guy to the woman he loved would never be high on Dylan’s list of things to do, he had no problem offering credit where credit was due. If Jake bothered to get off his ass and help out, then Dylan would tell Kyra – even if it irked him to do so – of the change in his behavior.
Jake’s hands went to his hips again. “You couldn’t just say yes, could you?”
Dylan tilted his head. “Sure. To the right question.”
He watched as Jake struggled, pondering over the offer. Dylan knew it wasn’t too much to ask for Jake to act like a decent human being, but it was up to Jake to make the decision.
“Look, Jake, while you’re contemplating the moral of your character, taking your sweet time, I’m wasting mine. Any chance you could speed it up?”
Jake frowned at him. “Fine. I’ll check in with my dad, see what needs to be done around the Turtle Center. Happy?”
A small smile pulled at Dylan’s lips. “It’s not me you’re trying to impress remember, it’s Kyra.”