Beach Cottage Kisses (The Cottages on Ocean Breeze #2)

Chapter Two

F or a second, the fire in his groin was all he knew. Then his mouth opened, his tongue met Iris’s…

Scott jerked away. Stood up. All in the same move.

Iris must have done the same. She was on her feet. A yard away from him. Eyes wide. Staring at him.

With horror? Shock?

There was definitely no pleasure there.

Nor was he feeling any himself.

Panic consumed him. The women he kissed were separate and apart from his life. Mutually casual encounters, mostly. Except for Sheila. A widowed FBI agent who hit him up sometimes when she was in town.

Or had until he’d realized that she was beginning to look to him for more than just the friendly, enjoyable sex they’d agreed upon. He’d called her on it. She’d broken things off with him and he hadn’t heard from her since.

He wasn’t sorry about that.

“I’m sorry, Iris,” he blurted, standing there in his tux feeling like a randy teenager who’d stolen a kiss and was about to get slapped. “I don’t know why I just did that. I swear to you, I don’t think of you that way…”

Shut up!

His usual talent for articulation seemed to have evaporated.

She took a step back. To the side. Seemed to be focused on his nose. “I’m sorry, too.”

Wait. Why was she apologizing?

She didn’t appear at all affronted, accosted or defensive.

Just seemed…about as uncomfortable as he was.

“We don’t do this,” he said then, to be clear.

She looked him in the eye. “No, we don’t,” she said, her tone unequivocal.

And the prosecutor in him had to tell the story to the court. To get it officially established. “It was a strange-as-hell day. The wedding. All the kissing. We’ve been thrown together as a couple. Neither of us had dates. And…it’s Sage. She was one of us, and now…she’s not.”

One of the single-for-life residents on Ocean Breeze. There weren’t all that many of them. There had been three. Only two left.

“Yes, that’s all it was.” Iris was nodding. Vigorously. To the point that, for a second there, Scott was put out. His ego taking a hit that she found the idea of sex with him so abhorrent.

Until his brain kicked in and relief soon followed.

Iris took another step back, then, looking straight at him, said, “I value you more than just about anyone else on earth.”

Mixed signals! Stepping back. But confessing…what? Iris had feelings for him?

Panic returned, in triplicate. Attacking his mind. His body. His emotions. Consuming him.

“Sex isn’t something I can offer, Scott. But the thought of losing your friendship scares me even more…”

Wait. What? She didn’t want sex, but she’d be willing to have it to keep his friendship? Scott’s body came out of panic mode first. Appreciating the gorgeous woman with her long auburn hair loose and curling around her shoulders, those vivid green eyes and a body to die for.

His heart followed next. She didn’t want sex. She did want them .

And his mind skidded in. “Our friendship means the world to me, too,” he said. Taking a step closer to her. Meeting her eye to eye. “Seriously, Iris. You, us…as we’ve been these past three years…it’s all I can do. It’s the only way I can have someone to come home to.” The words came out without forethought. Or even fore-realization.

And rang so true, he couldn’t look away from her.

She nodded. Smiled. And as he started to breathe again, she said, “I come home to you, too.”

His face split into a huge grin.

It was almost like they’d just done their version of a wedding.

“So we’re good?” he asked.

She nodded toward the bench as she spoke. “As long as we don’t do that again, we sure are.”

“Deal.” He held out his hand.

She took it.

They shook.

And headed in their own directions as they walked back inside. The bride and groom had left. Iris had end-of-the-night bridesmaid chores.

He had to take care of the final bar tab. Added a drink to it, and sat there, consuming slowly. Until he saw Iris get on the elevator.

Then, leaving his half-empty glass sitting there, Scott paid the tab.

And took the stairs.

* * *

Iris didn’t sleep well. The first time she awoke, her body was thrumming with desire and her drowsy mind floated with seemingly real- time images of Scott Martin. In swim trunks. All muscles honed as he rode in on a surfboard, landed just inches from her and grabbed her up in a full-tongue kiss.

Shaking away the impossible dream—Scott had taken every surfing lesson known to man and just couldn’t stay up on the board long enough to ride one wave—she rolled over, hugged the bed’s second pillow to her and put herself back to sleep.

As she’d learned in rehab so long ago. Deep, even breathing. Relax one muscle at a time. Have an innocuous mental conversation that interested her and felt good.

That night she chose to talk to Leigh about spending the night at her place. Telling her what games they’d play. Seeing Leigh’s sweet features, hearing her lispy replies. The little girl usually shared Iris’s bed when they did slumber parties…

Iris didn’t want to spend the night. The other girls were asleep. She heard someone arguing. Wanted to go home. The phone was in the hall. She’d wake everyone up. Worse, she’d bring the angry voices closer. Arms the same size as hers reached over. Pulling her close…

“Huhhhh!” With a gasp Iris shot straight up in bed. Heart pounding, she threw back the covers and stood. Walked slowly, concentrated on the benign. Got to the door leading to her hotel room’s balcony. Made it outside and took her first full, deep, relaxing breath as she stared at the ocean. Sat down.

And slowly returned to herself. Thought about the day ahead. The photography session she’d booked—individual graduation photos of all the dogs completing a memory unit visitation program. Service canines who’d be out in San Diego’s mostly senior living facilities as early as next week .

She was fine.

Good.

Knew the ropes.

But…damn. She’d thought herself through with it all. Hadn’t had an episode in years.

Had long since stopped being swamped by waves of emotion.

Until Sage had promised Gray forever.

And even that didn’t make sense. All the weddings Iris photographed…almost all of them had vows making promises neither party could realistically keep.

Not without knowing what the future held. How things changed.

So…the sun would be up soon. She was a little earlier than she’d figured but jumped in the shower. Best to get on with the day. Check out before everyone else.

Be gone from the wedding venue by the time others came downstairs.

She’d thought about attending the impromptu breakfast one of the bridesmaids had been informally planning the night before. But she hadn’t confirmed her presence.

So she felt no guilt as she wheeled her bag out to her car, loaded up and drove off.

She’d had a brief relapse.

Which explained the way she’d participated in that kiss the night before, too. Leaning in. Opening her mouth.

Feeling.

Heightened emotions were a symptom of suffering a tragedy that her psyche had been unable to accept.

She’d recovered. As completely as one could.

But there’d always be a part of her that was broken.

She hadn’t lost her memory.

She’d just lost her twin.

* * *

Iris wasn’t at breakfast. Scott hadn’t gone, either. Had, in fact, specifically chosen not to do so knowing that Iris would be there.

But as he checked out, he saw the group in the restaurant, in a back corner. Very clearly missing any sign of amber hair.

And was bothered that she’d chosen to skip the breakfast. Seeing it as a sign that things weren’t right between them. That she was avoiding him.

Contradictory to the extreme, considering his own lack of attendance.

Realizing that his worrying over the nonissue of the kiss the night before could create a problem where there wasn’t one, Scott went home. Collected Morgan from the dog sitter a few cottages down, took the corgi for a long run. Then pulled on a wet suit and took his surfboard out for some January practice. Managed to stay on long enough for the wave to actually catch the board before torpedoing into the water. And called it a win.

You couldn’t fail at a skill you’d never learned.

And you couldn’t fail to learn if you were still in the process of learning.

He’d worked that one out years before. While his father was still alive and asking him why he continued to pursue a sport that clearly wasn’t suited to him.

As always, taking the board out renewed his confidence in his own inner strength, determination and endurance, and he was fully back to himself by the time he took Morgan out for her Sunday-afternoon socialization. Iris wouldn’t be out yet. She had a photo shoot.

But he and Morgan saw Angel. The miniature collie was still with the girls’ sitter from the night before and Morgan greeted the smaller dog as though they’d been apart for years. Laughing, Scott offered to keep Angel with him and Morgan until Iris got home. Something he and Iris had each done many times over the years.

The three of them, him and the girls, ran a couple of miles and then stopped to have a beer with Dale, who was out with Juice. The bearded writer was one of Morgan’s favorite people, and Scott’s, too, outside Sage, Leigh and Iris.

Dale had helped Gray start up a water rescue course for service dogs—classes that were on hiatus only long enough for Gray to family-moon. Gray used Juice to demonstrate many of the exercises.

Everyone on the beach knew that Juice was Dale’s very dedicated, personal service dog. As far as Scott was aware, no one knew why the athletic man needed one.

Scott had never asked. He didn’t like questions coming at him in return. So he didn’t pry.

Other than missing little Leigh, and Sage and Gray, too, the sunny, midsixties Sunday afternoon was nice. Bordering on great.

And, as Iris’s auburn hair showed up in the distance, her tall, lean body distinguishable among others out enjoying the day, Scott saw the day as being exactly what he wanted out of life.

She’d come home from work and headed to the beach. Just like always.

She wasn’t avoiding him.

Having finished his beer, he stood as Iris drew closer. “She doesn’t know I confiscated Angel,” he said as he clicked his fingers to the two dogs who’d been lying by Juice. Thanking Dale for the beer, he headed off toward the friend who, he’d just found out the night before, looked for him first on the beach every night, and who was always glad to see him.

He was even happier than usual to see her, too.

So she hadn’t made it to breakfast. Hadn’t been in touch all day. Neither had he been. That wasn’t their usual way.

Wasn’t his way with anyone except Sage. When situations called for it.

Angel saw Iris while the twenty-eight-year-old gifted photographer was still thirty yards away. Took off toward her. With Morgan right on her heels, of course.

Filled with relief, Scott continued at his own, casual pace. Reached Iris when she was still bending down, greeting the girls as though they’d been apart for weeks instead of just overnight, Scott let her voice wash over him. Appreciating the familiarity, aware of Iris’s value to him, more than ever before.

Because of the near loss of what they’d had.

And not at all to do with the memory of her lips responding to his.

When she stood, he fell into step beside her. Just as he did every other night that they were both at home in time to let the dogs run on the beach. Didn’t matter that Morgan and Angel had already had all the exercise they needed.

It was what they did. Walked. Talked.

Before heading home alone for dinner or whatever else the evening had to bring them separately.

“How’d the shoot go?” he asked when she failed to immediately fall into step. He was watching the dogs. Something they both did often. Checking himself to make certain that he didn’t do or say anything out of the ordinary.

“Fine.” One word. Where normally there’d have been paragraphs. Pages even.

“Did everyone graduate?” he asked. She’d been worried about a golden retriever who seemed a bit too shy to take on rooms of strangers in any kind of serviceable way .

Finally starting up the beach with him, after seconds of hesitation that had seemed to stretch into agonizing minutes, she said, “All but Sissy.” The golden. “She didn’t show up today. I’m guessing her owner realized that it’s not fair to Sissy to try to make her into something she is not.”

A very clear message seemed to ring there. He couldn’t tell if it was her tone as she said the words. The words themselves.

Or his own hypersensitivity to doing all he could to make sure the encounter went perfectly.

Did she think he wanted more from her?

Or that he thought she wanted more from him?

Not sure how to answer, but feeling as though she’d thrown a rope that would tie them up if he couldn’t grab it, he said, “That’s about the cruelest thing you can do to a person. Expect them to be different than they are. Or to have talents they don’t have. Rather than encouraging them in the talents they do have.”

He might not be husband, or life companion, material, but he had a lot of good things to offer. She’d said so herself. The night before. He showed up whenever he could. Didn’t put expectations on his friendship. Supported wherever he could.

Of course, they’d been talking about dogs, Sissy in particular, not people.

Not him.

Or her.

She’d been heading down the beach from her place to his and so he’d continued walking that way. Slowing his pace when she barely kept up. Scrambling for the right thing to say.

To draw her out.

Not sure what it was.

Was she avoiding him?

Afraid he’d already screwed things up with his people’s-expectations analogy, he ended up saying nothing.

And the dogs, as though sensing that something wasn’t right in the air around them, or within their owners, didn’t offer any distraction, either. No chasing each other, or anything else. They just walked, Morgan beside Scott, Angel right at Iris’s heel.

Scott tried to tell himself that was okay. Tried to remember if he and Iris walked in silence sometimes. Was still on the silent mental subject when she stopped in the sand.

“It’s been a long weekend, and I’ve still got pictures to go through for a meeting in the morning so I’m going to head back,” she said, bending down to ruffle Angel’s ears.

She was avoiding him.

“Sounds good,” Scott told her. “It was a long one. See ya later.”

With a click of his finger, he headed up toward the row of cottages, glad to see that Morgan was right beside him.

No embarrassing need to turn around and coax his housemate to stick by him.

But nothing to distract him from the words he’d left in the air behind him, either.

Not his usual enjoy your evening , or sleep well or even have a good night .

See ya later?

What in the hell was that?

It was not good.

That’s what it was.

Just not good.