4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
D eclan
It’s her. The girl from the Tiki Bar.
I didn’t recognize her when I was driving up, but I certainly do when I get out of the car and storm over to where she’s standing with my daughter
Her blonde hair is no longer in a ponytail. It's now in waves around her face, and her face is stripped of all makeup. Her skin has that sheen, like she was just swimming. She’s wearing just a t-shirt that shows off hints of her curvy form... She has shapely legs and dainty feet that remind me of a fairy.
I tell myself that I’m too mad to notice.
What kind of pervert notices how dainty a woman's feet are anyway?
You, that’s who.
I strike the thought from my mind as I cross my hands over my chest and level her with a withering stare.
"Do you know it’s kidnapping to take someone’s child without asking?"
"She didn’t take me, dad, I left on my own." Amelia points out. "And I’m also not a child."
"You’re not an adult either." I turn my glare to my daughter, but she only sticks up her chin and glares back unapologetically.
Brat.
"You left me first," she says. "What did you expect me to do? Sit in that hotel room and twiddle my thumbs for the whole day?"
"I expect you to not run off on your babysitter and turn off your phone. Do you have any idea how freaked out she was? She thought you had gotten kidnapped. We nearly called the police." And if not for the fact that I put a tracker in Amelia's necklace, I would have already alerted the police.
But I figured my daughter was probably pulling one of her little stunts again. She does it all the time, hence why I put a tracker on her phone. And in case she turns off that phone, like she did today, there's another tracker in her watch, her necklace, and a few other items of clothing.
"Whatever," she says. "I’m not a baby anyway. I don’t need a babysitter."
"You need something alright."
"Wait." The blonde woman interrupts, looking between the two of us with confusion stamped on her features. She points at me and addresses Amelia. "This is your dad?"
Amelia purses her lips, then reluctantly nods.
"I know," she says with an apologetic sigh as though she’s the one who has to deal with a misbehaving teenager.
"You should have called me when you found her," I tell the blonde.
She blinks at me. "How was I supposed to know you’re her dad? I don’t even know your name."
"Yeah right." Most people know my name, even those in the middle of a bumfuck Laketown.
She narrows her eyes. "I’m serious. All I know about you is that you’re incredibly picky with your burgers and are rude to match."
I narrow my eyes at her. Is she being for real or is this her schtick?
"Besides," she continues. "She told me that you knew she was here and you were okay with it."
"Okay with it? What parent would be okay with letting their thirteen-year-old roam around alone."
"Thirteen?" Her hand flutters to her throat and this time the shock in her eyes is too loud to be anything but honest. She turns back to Amelia. "You told me you were sixteen."
For the first time, my daughter blushes and actually looks slightly ashamed of her actions.
Still, it’s irritating that it’s the blonde woman who made her feel like that and not me.
"That’s why you’re supposed to call the cops when you come across a solo minor," I say. "Or at the very least, you should have called her guardians and ensured that she really does have permission to be where she is."
"Alright I get it," the blonde says, holding up her hands. "You don’t have to keep going on. I made a mistake, but I truly just believed what she said."
"I’ll keep going on if I damn well want to," I growl, but she doesn't stand down.
Instead, she crosses her hands over her chest and sticks it out boldly.
Her eyes spark right back at me and despite my anger, I admire her gumption.
Usually, I have to watch my tone around women. I'm a large guy and I never want to scare them with my anger.
But the blonde doesn't look scared. She looks like if I say something else she doesn't like, she just might deck me.
I wonder if she will anyway.
Ultimately though, she shuts her eyes and draws breath through her nose, taking a step back and turning toward Amelia.
"You should go home with your dad," she says.
"No." Amelia shakes her head.
"That wasn't a request, Amelia Rose," I say. "That was an order."
"I don't want to go."
"I don't care what you want. You shouldn't be here in the first place."
Amelia turns back to the blonde woman, with a plea in her eyes. "You said you were going to give me the diary."
Diary?
The woman nods like she knows exactly what Amelia is talking about.
"Sure. Let me get that for you before you leave." She glares at me as she walks by, and in the process fails to watch where she's going. Her feet catch on a stone in her path, and her ankle twists.
She yelps and then falls forward, but I move to grab her up before she can fall.
Her body slams into mine. I wrap my hand around her waist, steadying her.
Once more I’m staring down into those beautiful blue eyes.
Desire rushes through me and it annoys me. I set her away from me.
"Are you always this clumsy or just around me?"
Her eyes narrow. "Are you always this annoying or just around me?"
She tries to sidestep me and nearly twists her ankle again
I sigh up to the sky and then, without thinking, I pull her in by the elbow and sweep her into my arms.
"What are you doing?" she stammers, eyes wide with shock.
"Getting you home safe," I say walking to the car. "Amelia, get in the car."
"My home’s over there, asshole." She points to a cottage close by "And put me down."
I ignore her pivoting to the cottage and shifting her higher in my arms. I'm not putting her down. She doesn't seem to know how to walk without hurting herself, so I'll get her home safe. As a thank you for taking care of my daughter before I got here. Lord only knows what other kind of trouble Amelia would have gotten into without her.
The blonde woman struggles and kicks but I ignore her without effort. She feels like a comfortable, luscious handful. But lifting her is no chore at all.
In fact, I try very hard not to think about how good her body feels in my arms.
"Let me down!"
"Gladly," I step up to her porch and finally, place her on her feet. "Now you can go get the book. See if you can manage that without tripping over your own two feet."
Her mouth opens and closes. Opens again and closes again.
She seems so angry she can't even find the words to try to express it.
"You’re an ass, you know that?" she finally manages.
I grin humorlessly. "I've been called worse by better."
"Oh, I bet." Then, she huffs and spins around storming back into her house.
I find myself watching her retreating form, until I notice that my daughter has stepped up next to me. She frowns at me.
"Why did you do that?" she asks. She's not used to seeing me being so physical and carrying little damsels in distress around.
"She’s clumsy," I say. "Didn’t want her falling again."
"I think you pissed her off."
"I piss a lot of people off. Doesn't mean I shouldn't help them out."
"Wow. How nice of you, dad," she teases, offering me a smirk. I almost return it but then I remember I’m supposed to be mad at her, so I frown again
"Go wait in the car," I say.
She frowns. "Dad..."
"Right now, Amelia. And don't you dare try to run away again."
She huffs and then flips her brown locks over her shoulders, her hair bouncing as she walks away.
"Oh." A new male voice rings out and I glance back to find an elderly man standing in the doorway, peering at me. "You must be Holland's son."
"I'm not." I don't even know who Holland is.
"You sure you do look like him," the man says. "Holland said his son went off to Hollywood to become a movie star. Says he's doing pretty well for himself. He was in that new movie, you know, the one with the dinosaurs..."
"I'm not Holland's son."
"You look like him." He comes a little closer, showing bright blue eyes stark on his wrinkled face. His thin arms go behind his back and he stoops a little but moves lightly on his feet. "Or are you... no you can't be. Either way, you look very familiar. Have we met before?"
"I doubt it."
"Are you my Emma's new boyfriend?"
I cough a little as the old man continues rambling, "You're better looking than the last one. Taller too. You know my Emma always likes good-looking guys, but they've not always been very good to her. You know the last one–"
"Grandpa!" Emma suddenly dashes out from the hallways behind him, holding a leatherbound book and looking as mortified as ever. "That's enough."
"Why honey? I'm just telling your boyfriend–"
"He's not my boyfriend," she says loudly. "And the potatoes are getting mushy."
"Oh shoot. I forgot I put the fire on too high." He quickly scurries away leaving me and the blonde–Emma–together standing at the doorway.
"Here." She's red-faced as she hands the book to me. "Give it to Amelia."
I take it and raise my eyebrow at her. I should probably be nice enough to leave it at that, but I can't resist teasing her.
"So," I say. "Your father tells me you have bad taste in men."
"That's none of your business," she responds stiffly, glaring up at me.
"The same way my daughter is none of yours."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
I take a step closer, about to say something.
I'm not sure exactly what, because the thought disappears the minute her eyes darken, and her tongue passes over her lips.
Every thought vanishes, drowned out by what can only be described as an avalanche of lust, tightening every muscle in my body. We're shielded by the doorway, relatively hidden and in that moment, rationality ceases to exist. Madness appears.
So does the old Declan.
Old Declan did things without thinking. He simply acted on instinct because he wanted to. He did things because they made him feel alive.
That Declan leans down and brushes his lips against hers.
It's supposed to end there, but fuck it, she tastes too sweet.
But then one taste isn't enough. I have to go for another one.
My lips press against hers, as hunger rumbles into me. She tastes sweet and fresh. Like the sea, with a hint of salt on her soft lips. She gasps lightly at first, in surprise and I almost back away until she nips the seam of my lips.
I groan and suck her lower lip into mine. We engage in a sensual battle, as I lick the seam of her lips, wanting inside so I can taste her fully. My arm wraps around her waist, pulling her flush against my body.
"Emma! I need your help."
The voice permeates the fog of desire and we crash back down to earth. I back up so fast it gives me whiplash.
We stare at each other for a second, horrified.
"I–" I don't even know what to say.
So I just turn and walk away.