Chapter 9 #2
‘I think Uncle G might prefer to watch,’ Taylor says, her eyes back to laughing.
Lottie ain’t laughing, though. She frowns, her soft blue eyes making my insides squirm; what the hell is that about?
‘On ’is own?’ she says to Taylor, but those eyes stay locked on me.
‘Yeah.’
Just the way I like it, kid.
‘Come on, darling. Aunt Tay-Tay loves this song.’
I automatically tune in to what the acoustic band are playing.
Without words, I struggle to recognise it, but I know it well enough to know it’s a recent chart-topper.
It doesn’t strike me as Tay’s thing, but it’s all the encouragement Lottie needs to move, and I realise that was her goal.
To recuse me from the will of a child… Go figure.
I watch them join the others dancing in the sand, but my gaze doesn’t leave Taylor. Her metallic-gold dress barely reaches mid-thigh and leaves little to the imagination, the firelight catching every curve as she spins, the hem flicking out with her hair, smile carefree and glowing.
She’s different out here. Away from work, from the bars and the cities…
Softer. Warmer. A lot like she was at Christmas.
And that feeling I had then – the tightening in my chest – flares again as I sip my drink and pretend I’m fine. Pretend I’m capable of walking away when the time comes. Of giving up everything I want just to see her get her dream.
Lottie slips out from under Taylor’s hand as I watch, her joyful smile fading the moment her gaze hits me. She tugs on Tay’s hand, her little brow pulling together as she speaks.
I’m a pro at reading lips. It served me well as a kid, and even better as an adult. From the streets to security detail, reading any situation from afar, and knowing how to act and when to act. Staying one step ahead of any potential threat.
But I’ll be damned if I know how to act in this moment as one word lands crystal clear:
Lonely.
She thinks I look lonely.
Me.
If my men could see me now, they’d piss themselves laughing. Or stage a no-confidence vote. Or have me committed. And I wouldn’t blame them.
I take another swig from the bottle, masking one bitter taste with another, as Tay flashes me a grin, half-impish, half-knowing.
‘He’s fine, sweetheart.’ I watch her lips shape the words – like I ever needed an excuse to lose myself in them. ‘Axel doesn’t dance. He’s too… shy.’
I almost snort. Shy, my ass.
Lottie looks as stunned as my ego.
Then she balls her tiny fists and plants them on her hips, her stare turning determined.
Oh no…
She’s marching for me.
No fear. No hesitation.
That’s all me.
She doesn’t stop until she’s practically climbing my legs, her little fingers wrapping around my thumbs. Small. Warm. Certain.
‘Don’t be shy, Uncle G. We’ll help you.’
For one disorienting second, I don’t move. She’s never touched me before. Hell, grown adults rarely get to lay a finger on me. And they sure as shit don’t drag me anywhere. Yet here I am, being hauled to my feet by a four-year-old in pigtails.
That thing inside me – the part Tay’s been brushing up against since the day I met her; the part that’s always kept me steady, separate, apart – fractures a little more.
And I know Taylor’s watching, eyes alight with mischief and something softer I daren’t touch. So I bury it. The warmth. The unease. Neutralise my face as I lean forward and push my beer into the sand. One dance. For the kid. That’s all this is.
A triumphant Lottie drags me to Taylor with all the strength of a general leading an army, then grins up at me, proud as punch. ‘I got ’im, Aunt Tay-Tay.’
‘So you did, kiddo.’ Tay smiles, the flames from the fire dancing in her hazel depths. ‘If I’d known all it took was a determined four-year-old to get you on the dance floor, I would’ve employed one years ago.’
‘Zip it and dance, Stone.’
She folds her arms. ‘You first.’
I want to kiss the smug look off her forbidden mouth. Hell, I want to march her up to her room and do a whole lot more besides.
‘Like dis, Uncle G!’
My gaze slides to Lottie as she lets go of my hand and starts pumping her arms, wriggling her lower body, and I— I am not about to do any of that.
Taylor erupts. ‘Oh yes, exactly like that.’
I shake my head.
‘But Lottie says—’
‘And I’d like to keep my dignity intact. Thanks all the same.’
She laughs but I’m already scanning the entire beach, looking for an excuse to escape. A rogue wave, a gull in distress, even Theo and Sadie being swept out to sea by a rip current. Fair trade, if you ask me. They’re the reason I’m in this mess.
‘You chicken?’ Taylor murmurs up at me, mouth leaning close, her scent wrapping around me – citrus, salt, temptation – and I almost forget where I am. What the line is. Almost.
She steps back before I can breathe in a lungful, her body moving to the tune as though she can’t help it. So effortless, so sinfully easy, I wonder if she’s even aware she’s doing it.
I drag my gaze from her body to her eyes.
‘A chicken is what I’ll look like if I do what Lottie just did,’ I tell her.
‘I’m no chicken, Uncle G.’ Lottie prances up and down at my feet, capturing my attention. ‘Dis is a chicken.’
She launches into a perfect rendition of the Chicken Dance – wings, beaks, bum wiggle – and somehow even that suits the beat better than the robotic side-shuffle I’ve slipped into.
But then the song changes – because of course it does – slowing into some blasted ballad. If I could glare daggers at the guitarist without crushing Lottie’s joy, I would.
‘Think that’s my cue to—’
I’m cut off by Lottie’s tiny hands slipping around mine, her beaming face turned up to me as she sways to the music. I look to Tay – shoot me now – but she ain’t laughing any more. She ain’t teasing. She’s just… watching.
And whatever’s swimming in her eyes as they drop to where my hands are tangled with Lottie’s, it has me in a chokehold.
I can’t look at her looking like that.
And I can’t pull away from Lottie like this.
But I also can’t leave Taylor standing there, alone, when everyone else is paired off.
Before I can think better of it, I lift Lottie onto my hip and reach for Tay.
‘Get here, Stone,’ I bark, trying to sound annoyed when really, the only person I’m angry at is myself.
For not having any of this under control.
Not the situation.
Not the feeling.
And definitely not her.
But when have I ever had my feelings under control where Taylor’s concerned?
Never. And ain’t that the real truth.
Taylor
My entire body comes alive as he wraps me in close – so close, my head comes to rest beneath his chin. I meet Lottie’s gaze but my every sense is attuned to him. His scent. His warmth. His heart beating beneath my ear…
But it’s not the desire that’s consumed me since we crossed the line.
It’s something else. Something deeper. Something far too close to adoration, to coming home, to being right where I belong.
He’s never held me like this. Not after Dad died. Not after Sadie ran. Not after her ex accosted me. He’s always stood back: my rock by presence alone, but physical comfort, never.
And now…
Now he has one arm wrapped around Lottie, the other wrapped around me, and I’m losing sight of the Axel I’ve always known in the man he’s turning into.
The one who makes love to me – no, fucks me – like I’m all he could ever want.
The one who humours a four-year-old just because she asked.
The one who’s willing to give me a child because I asked.
And don’t even get me started on what happens when he calls me Baby Girl.
I’ve never been anyone’s baby – except maybe my mum’s. And even then, she died when I was eight, too young to truly remember how it feels…
The safety. The care. The way Axel’s arms make the world go quiet. Like nothing can touch me, hurt me, break me.
And that’s when the panic truly sets in, and it’s not about muddying our friendship with sex. It’s about this – this warmth, this comfort, this level of contentment – it feels too good. Too right.
I’m not supposed to need him like this.
I’m not supposed to want him like this.
Making a baby, yes, but making me feel whole—
Shit.
What on earth was in that cocktail?
I jerk back from this hold. ‘You know, we should probably call it a night.’
I smooth down my dress and reach for Lottie, desperate to fill my arms with something that isn’t him.
‘You’re going to bed?’ he asks.
‘I don’t wanna goa bed,’ Lottie whines, rubbing at her eyes. ‘I’m not tired!’
‘You need a good night’s sleep,’ I tell her gently, tucking her into my side before stepping back. ‘You’ll need all your energy for the boat tomorrow, remember?’
Though boat feels like a ridiculous understatement for Angelica, Sterling’s mega-yacht and our home for the final night of celebrations. We set sail shortly after dawn, so it is an early start. But that’s not why I’m running.
And judging by the way Axel’s watching me, he knows it too.
‘I thought you wanted to talk,’ he says, eyes narrowing.
‘I do.’
Just not while my heart’s spinning out with my head.
And not with Little Ears getting front row seats either.
‘But not tonight.’
Tonight, I need to shake this off.
Tomorrow, I need a plan I feel safe in.
A plan that can rewire what this Axel is doing to me.
‘I’ll walk you back.’
‘That’s not necessary,’ I say.
‘I ain’t asking.’
‘But I’m telling.’
‘Tough.’
I clench my jaw, aware of Lottie’s eyes darting between us as she tugs on one of her pigtails, a sure sign that she’s tired, regardless of what she says.
‘You wanna talk, Tay, we’re gonna talk.’