Waiting for the Sun (Waiting for the Sun #1)

by Robin Hill

  I nod. “I’ll stay.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Blue Sunday

  Drew: Can’t make it today. New client coming in.

  Darian: I’m backed up anyway.

  Drew: I bet you are.

  Darian: Fuck off.

  Drew: Jeez Dare. Lighten up.

  Darian: Sorry.

  Drew: So how long is she staying? I’m getting restless.

  Darian: No luck with the ladies?

  Drew: None that like to fish at the crack of dawn.

  Frankie

  “Are you ready?” Darian shouts from the bottom of the staircase. “Car’s out front. Grab your scarf…unless you want to use one of the communal scarves in the glove compartment.” His laughter hangs in the air until the door closes behind him.

  Jackass.

  A silk scarf hardly goes with a faded University of Texas T-shirt and khaki shorts. I rummage through Darian’s closet until I arrive at an Aerosmith trucker cap.

  But this does.

  “I take it back. Fuck the scarf,” Darian says as I sit in the passenger seat. “You look pretty hot in a Backwoods Barbie kind of way.”

  Batting my eyelashes, I take his hand and place it at the hem of my shorts. “How long’s the drive?” I ask in the southern drawl he likes so much.

  His fingers walk up my inner thigh, just far enough to brush the edge of my panties. I hold my breath as he gently tugs at the elastic around the leg, then squeal when he yanks his finger free and it pops back into place.

  “You’re a bit of a road hazard,” he says in his own terrible accent. He starts the engine and his come-fuck-me car purrs to life. “The drive is about two and a half hours, but if we get hungry we can stop for a bite in Key Largo. Pick some music.”

  “Key Largo? We’re going to the Keys?” I drum my feet in quick succession on the floorboard of his car. “Which one?”

  His smile is a flash on his lips. “Anabel Key,” he says softly.

  My chest tightens. “Anabel?”

  “It’s my island. Well, kind of.” He laughs. “It’s not as impressive as it sounds. I say island, but it’s actually more of a rock.”

  Hearing him say her name for the first time sends a sharp pain to the back of my throat.

  Darian shifts into gear and we head down the long palm tree-lined driveway.

  “Where is it?” I ask. “I mean, how do you get to it?”

  “It’s off Marathon,” he says as we wait for the gate to open. “I have a boat parked at the marina.”

  We turn onto the main road, and a few miles pass in silence before he speaks again. “It’s named after my daughter, Annie, but I guess you probably figured that out already. I bought it shortly after moving here. I’ve never taken anyone before. Not even Drew.”

  “And you’re taking me.” My words are barely a whisper, but I know he hears them.

  “I want to share it with you.”

  I turn toward my window and stare at the passing landscape through blurry eyes. The emotions I’m feeling are both perplexing and conflicting. This island is a product of Darian’s deepest pain, and he wants to share it with me. Why me?

  Is it because of what happened in the pantry?

  Darian squeezes my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “Am I okay?” I turn in my seat to face him. “Why would you ask me that?” My voice breaks on a small gasp and my hand flies to my mouth. I push back the threat of tears with an awkward laugh. “I’m so embarrassed,” I say. “I shouldn’t be reacting like this in front of you. I’m such a—”

  “Human?” Darian says. “You’re a compassionate, loving human. And that’s one of the reasons I wanted to bring you. I can just be myself. I can just be with you.”

  He’s quiet a moment, his hand resting on my shoulder, his fingers playing with my ponytail. “That’s not something I get from anyone else.” He laughs then. “And maybe I should have told you where I was taking you before I strapped you in my car and set off down the road. I’ve had ten years to get used to this trip, Francesca. You’ve had ten minutes.”

  My hands curl into fists. “Just the fact that you want to share this with me makes me happier than you could possibly know, but it sucks because you shouldn’t have it to share with me. You shouldn’t have it at all. This island shouldn’t exist for you, but it does, and it’s so fucking unfair.”

  I bite down on my lip when I realize the car has stopped and we’re parked on the side of the road. Darian has a white-knuckled grip on the wheel.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I can’t believe I said all that.”

  “Thank you,” he says.

  “For what?”

  “For being the only person in ten years who isn’t afraid to talk to me. It does suck. It is fucking unfair. And, Christ, that’s so much better to hear than God has a plan and Everything happens for a fucking reason.” He draws in a deep breath and blows out a long exhale. “Enough of this. We’re going to have fun this weekend, okay?”

  I nod. “Will you tell me about her sometime? Annie?”

  “I will,” Darian says with a sincere smile. He takes his sunglasses from the console and slides them on. “I promise.”

  Frankie: We’re going away for the weekend and there won’t be cell/Wi-Fi.

  Jane: Where is he taking you? The moon?

  Frankie: The Keys. He has an island.

  Jane: Of course he does.

  Frankie: He’s never taken anyone before. I’m the first.

  Jane: Wow Frankie. That’s big.

  Frankie: I know.

  Jane: Maybe he’s falling for U 2. :-)

  Anxious to get to the island, we drive straight through Key Largo and grab snacks and groceries from a market in Marathon. Thirty minutes later, we’re at the marina boarding his boat. He sits in the captain’s chair, and I sit nearby on the bench seat, transfixed as I watch him man the wheel.

  “She’s nice,” I say as we pull away from the dock. “She looks new.”

  His eyes light up at the mention of her. “I just got her a few months ago.” He grins proudly, his dimple breaking through. “She’s my other baby,” he says, waving goodbye to the Maserati parked in front of the marina. “She’s fun. We can ski.”

  “I noticed you haven’t named her,” I say.

  Darian laughs. “I’ve been leaning toward my Come-Fuck-Me Boat, but that seems a little cliché at this point.”

  We’ve barely made any headway, and already Darian looks as if ten years have melted from his face. And with each passing break, he seems to lose another.

  “It won’t be long,” he says as the boat picks up speed.

  I lean against the white leather cushion and tilt my head back, smiling as the late afternoon sun and sea spray kiss my cheeks. The ride is short, maybe fifteen minutes. I relax to the sound of the engine as the boat carves its way through the gulf.

  Darian’s voice brings me back. “There it is.”

  A giant grin replaces my smile as the island comes into view. The rock, as he referred to it, is small. A couple of acres, tops. But it’s private, remote, and I can easily see why he was drawn to it.

  “Welcome to my hideaway.”

  The boat sways in the bumpy current as we dock, and as I try to stand, the wind whips my hat backward until it catches on my ponytail.

  “Take my hand,” Darian says, his footing sturdy from experience. He helps me off the boat. “Another gust like that and I’ll have to fish you out of the water.”

  We walk along the planked pathway toward the house. Nestled in the wild, untamed landscape, the octagon-shaped bungalow is a bright and cheerful turquoise, trimmed in white. It’s cute, rustic, and true to form, not what I expected.

  We cross a small deck with an old wooden rocking chair and a pair of empty bird feeders. Darian unlocks the front door and we enter through the living room. The interior is cozy and charming and reminds me of my cabin. The walls and floors are paneled in what appears to be old barn wood and are sparsely cov
ered in patterned rugs and seascape paintings. On the right, a cornflower blue island with two aluminum barstools separates the living area from the open kitchen. I lean against the side of the bar as Darian unpacks our groceries.

  “I love it,” I say. “You continue to surprise me.”

  “The outside’s even better. Speaking of, I forgot charcoal. Come with me and I’ll show you. Fingers crossed there’s a bag out there.”

  I follow him to the back deck, which is considerably larger than the front deck and has an outdoor grill and dining area.

  “Yes! We’re in luck,” he says with animated enthusiasm.

  I can’t blame him. I guess popping into a convenience store isn’t very convenient when you’re on a private island.

  “How do you feel about dolphin?” Darian asks, pulling the bag of charcoal from its hiding place.

  My nostrils flare. “Dolphin?”

  He laughs. “You’re way too easy. Not Flipper, the mammal. Mahimahi, the fish…” He waits. “Dolphinfish?”

  I exhale. “Mahi I can do. Flipper? I’d have to pass.”

  Darian fires up the pit and I decide to explore a little farther from the house. A sandy footpath through the heavily wooded terrain leads me to a small private beach. With my flip-flops dangling from my fingers, I push my toes through the untouched sand. Unspoiled and idyllic. That’s really the only way I can describe it. I hold my arms in front of me, framing the view with my hands. A perfect picture of blue on top of blue—so similar in color, I have to squint to separate the ocean from the sky. The surf rolls in, stealing the sand from beneath my feet. I step back and grin—a teeth-baring, face-stretching grin.

  The fact I’m literally stranded in this paradise with him makes me giddy. Okay, maybe not literally stranded, but a girl can dream. It’s not like I can swim back to the mainland, so if he could just lose the boat keys or if the gas tank could just mysteriously drain or—

  “You’re a vision, Francesca.”

  His voice catches me by surprise and I spin around.

  “This is extraordinary,” I say. “I’m so glad you brought me.”

  Never take me home.

  “Me too.”

  He reaches for my hand, and we stroll along the small stretch of sand to a weather-beaten log at the far end of the beach. It reminds me of the bench behind my cabin. We sit, facing the setting sun, and I regard it with newfound appreciation as Darian drapes his arm over my shoulder.

  “I don’t know how you ever leave,” I say.

  “I think it’ll be harder this time.”

  I inch closer to him on the log and rest my head against his arm. Pastels paint the clouds like cotton candy floating over the ocean, and we’re quiet for long minutes, just watching them drift by. The wind is gentler on this side of the island, but I can still hear it behind us, high above in the swaying palms.

  Darian steals his arm from my shoulder and leans forward, fingers steepled, elbows on his knees. “Annie loved the beach,” he whispers after a short span of silence. “I imagine she would have really liked this place.”

  My heart stills at the mention of her name, and I turn my body sideways on the log. Darian keeps his gaze fixed on his fingers but wears a small smile that grows despite the brittle edge to his voice.

  “She was beautiful,” he says softly, “and she loved me unconditionally.” He sits taller, his legs extended in front of him. A muffled cough serves to clear his throat and leaves us both with glassy eyes.

  “I know all kids love their parents unconditionally, but with her, I could do no wrong. And it was the same for me.” His smile breaks into a laugh. “Jules used to get so frustrated, especially during Annie’s terrible twos, but I just found her…enchanting.” Darian rubs his eyes with the hem of his shirt and then blows out a breath. “Thank you for putting the PEZ dispenser back.”

  “Darian…”

  He shakes his head.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Come on,” he says, squeezing my hand, “I’m sure the fire’s ready by now.”

  After dinner, Darian takes me for a walk around the property. The moon is bright enough that we don’t need a flashlight, so we just pick one of the many trails that circle the house.

  Sounds of life filter through the brush, and I hold Darian’s hand a little tighter. “And you think my place is scary?”

  “At least I don’t have harbingers of death here.”

  “Harbingers of death? Are you talking about whip-poor-wills?”

  He shrugs.

  “They’re better than”—I motion to the trees—“whatever you have lurking out there.”

  Darian stops walking and crosses his arms. “Raccoons? You’re comparing cute, little, furry raccoons to those devil birds?”

  “Devil birds?” I clutch my stomach in laughter. “You make it sound as if they have beady red eyes and horns.”

  “They don’t?”

  “They’re ethereal.”

  “Exactly. Like demons.” He takes my hand again. “Come on. I promise to protect you from the evil coons.”

  The long, winding trail makes the tiny island seem deceptively larger. We take a right here and a left there, and I try to memorize landmarks so I can get around on my own. It doesn’t matter though; with the beach only steps away, it would be hard to get lost.

  We come to a small clearing and I stop.

  Darian flashes me a proud smile as he walks on. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He lies on his back on the moonlit ground beneath a blanket of stars. “This is my favorite part of the island,” he says. “It’s why I bought it.” He pats the patch of sand next to him. “It’s peaceful.”

  “Aside from the evil coons,” I tease.

  “Yes, aside from that.”

  I lie down beside him, resting my head on his shoulder. We point out the few constellations we know and make up several more. I gasp when a shooting star dashes across the sky, but before I can make a wish, I see another one.

  “Just watch,” Darian says. “Once they get going, they don’t stop.”

  “The island of unlimited wishes,” I say.

  Darian laughs. “Good luck with that.”

  “What?” I nudge his side. “You don’t believe in making wishes?”

  “It hasn’t worked for me yet,” he says.

  “Maybe you should try again.”

  “Maybe I should.”

  The next morning, we set off for the beach. Darian takes me to a spot on the right side of the shoreline where a flat rock emerges from the whitecaps. He sits in the surf and leans against the rock, bending his knees and spreading them wide enough to accommodate me.

  “I take it you’ve done this before.” I laugh. “The rock, I mean. Not the girl between your legs.”

  I rest my back against his chest and bury my toes in the wet sand. The water is warm, and the clement ocean air mingles with his scent.

  “A time or two,” Darian says with a smile in his voice. “But it’s better with the girl between my legs.”

  I tilt my grin toward him. “Well, girl or no girl, it’s beautiful. I’d be here all the time. It’s the perfect place to be alone and just think.”

  “That’s the thing,” he says. “When I’m here, I don’t think. It’s like the second I get behind the wheel of my boat, everything else fades away. There’s no yesterday, no tomorrow. I get to be in the present.” He’s quiet for a moment and then, “That’s why I’ve never brought Drew. He’s seen me at my worst. This place is my escape and I worry that if I brought him here…”

  “He’d taint it somehow.”

  “Yeah,” he says. “But not intentionally. I don’t want you to think—I mean, he’s a great guy…”

  “I get it. Even though he’s in your present life and your future life, he’s still part of the past you come here to escape.”

  Darian leans forward and drops his chin to my shoulder. “It’s so freeing. Being able to talk to someone who understands. Who I don’t have to explain mys
elf to.”

  “Do you really feel like you have to explain yourself to Drew?”

  He blows out a sigh. “I feel like I do, but I know I don’t. Does that make sense?”

  “To me it does, but it might not to him. I think you should try talking to him about it. Tell him what you told me.” A soft laugh vibrates against my shoulder. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

  “No. I’m laughing because what you said is exactly right. Drew doesn’t understand why I keep this place from him because I’ve never bothered to tell him.” Darian smooths his hands up and down my arms. “I’m so fucking glad you didn’t go home.”

  I turn my head to look at him over my shoulder. “What would you be doing right now if I wasn’t here?”

  “Fishing, probably.” A slow, sexy smile unfurls on his face as he lowers his mouth to my ear. “But I think I like this better.”

  Desire flickers to life inside me. “Mmm. Me too.”

  He pulls my earlobe between his teeth and nibbles it gently, sending tremors all the way to my sand covered toes.

  “I mean, I like to fish,” I say, “but…oh God, that feels good.”

  “Francesca…”

  “Mmm hmm?”

  “No more talking.”

  I nod.

  He digs his fingers into my hips and pulls me back, his erection like steel against my spine. “Turn around,” he says, his voice deep and gravelly in my ear, “and spread those beautiful legs over me.”

  The desire inside me escalates to a full-blown inferno. I circle my body and straddle him, my fingers tangling in his hair as a smile dances on my lips.

  Darian’s eyes, shining like emeralds beneath the cloudless sky, bore into mine for long seconds before he leans in and brushes his nose against mine. “Yes,” he whispers. “I definitely like this better.”

  I grab his face in my hands and our mouths crash together. His lips part, and I breach them with my tongue. God, how I love kissing him. I could kiss him for hours. I could kiss him until…

  He slips his finger inside the leg of my bikini bottoms.