Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
LIAM
T oday has been a lesson in goddamn restraint courtesy of a tiny blonde spitfire in a mouthwatering white bikini. After spending more than an hour goofing off in the waves, we couldn’t ignore the smell of the grill anymore and headed back for food.
That was four hours ago, and I haven’t had a minute alone with Lark since. I plan to rectify that right now. Kristy has been yelling at everyone to get out to the beach before the fireworks start, and I have every intention of kidnapping my girl so we can watch the fireworks from our back porch.
I spot John standing by the deck with a beer in his hand, so I make a beeline for him, doing my best not to look guilty. Even though there’s no way he could know anything is going on between us, I can’t help but feel like he somehow knows I’ve seen his daughter naked. “Hey, Mr. Monroe, have you seen Lark around here anywhere?”
His hazel eyes lock on to mine with a knowing gleam that has an uncomfortable weight settling in my chest. “I think Kristy sent her to look for more blankets, but she seemed pretty worn out. Maybe it would be best for you kids to call it a night and head home early.”
My eyebrows raise in surprise and concern. I knew I should have kept a closer eye on her after how tired she was earlier. “Is she okay? Did something happen?” I barely manage to keep the edge of panic out of my tone, but it seems like he catches it anyway.
A small smile finds his face as he regards me with something akin to pride. “She’s alright, but you know how Kristy is. She can be a lot for anyone to handle.”
I nod, chuckling. “Okay, well, thanks Mr. Monroe. I’m gonna go grab Lark and see if I can’t convince her to call it a night.”
He snorts, clapping a large hand down on my shoulder. “Liam, you know you can call me John. You’re practically a member of the family at this point.”
His words mean the world to me, and I hope he can see that in my eyes, because I’m too choked up to respond. He must not expect one because he walks away whistling.
Making my way inside, I pause in the hallway, taking a second to breathe. One of the pictures on the wall catches my attention and brings a smile to my face.
“It took me weeks to stand up even once, you know.”
Turning to smile at my girl, I pull her into my side, relishing in the way she melts into the embrace. I’m quickly learning that this is her tell. When she’s tired or overwhelmed or feeling vulnerable, she leans into my touch, even going so far as to seek it out like she did on the couch this morning. “I haven’t surfed in years,” I tell her, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “You might have to give me some pointers.”
The smile is obvious in her voice when she replies, “I can do that.”
A long yawn punctuates the end of her sentence, and I nod against her hair in agreement. “What do you say we cut out early and go watch the fireworks at home? We’ve got a great view from that couch you love. And then if you fall asleep, you don’t have to go anywhere if you don’t want to.”
Wide blue eyes blink sleepily up at me, telling me I’ve piqued her interest. “We can sleep outside?” she asks in awe.
I nod. “There are retractable screens I can set up so the bugs don’t get us, and it shouldn’t get too cold. And if it does, I guess we’ll just have to keep each other warm.”
A light flush crests the top of her cheeks, making me smile. I love making her blush. It’s not very often this tough girl lets out her soft side enough to show on her face, so it feels like an honor every time I’m lucky enough to witness it.
“Alright,” she says through another yawn. “Let’s go home.”
The walk home is peaceful. Well, as peaceful as possible when there’s raging parties and drunk locals all over the beach. But the further away we get from the Monroe’s and closer to home, the quieter it gets. The beach is dark and empty here, and the sounds of crickets competes with the crashing of waves against the sand, making it feel like we’ve stepped into a postcard.
“So what made you want to move here, anyway? You said you lived in California for what, ten years? What made you decide to trade sun and sand for mountains and fog?” Lark asks as we approach the house.
I shrug, not taking my eyes off the water even as I move to sit on the couch. Without prompting, she cuddles in next to me, leaning her head on my chest. The weight of her slight frame makes talking about this a little bit easier. “The condensed story is that after my dad died, I was in free fall for a while there. Anna didn’t want to see me, my mom was refusing to grieve, and I just felt this pressure to hold it together for them.”
She nods, sliding her arms around my middle in a squeeze as I lean back against the cushions. “After about six months of that, I finally cracked. I had already applied for permanent residence in the U.S. at that time because I had been here on my work visa for so long, so the moment I found out it was approved I left Vancouver and decided I was ready to get out of California, too. Keelan told me about Echo Cove, and the rest is history.”
Lark is quiet for a few moments, and I’m grateful she isn’t offering me empty platitudes or pity. “For what it’s worth, I’m happy you’re here.”
The fireworks finally start, and I adjust us so we’re lying down on the couch, looking up at the sky. The last two Fourth of July’s ended with me alone on a beach towel at the Monroe’s, wishing I had someone to share the moment with. Because there is a moment.
It’s that single moment between firework sets when the entire world goes silent, almost like it’s holding its breath, waiting for the next explosion of light and sound. And when you’re alone, there’s nothing to look at but dark, empty sky. But with Lark?
I get to watch the way her sleepy, powder blue eyes spark with joy at each new flash of color, and savor the way her smile fills my stomach with butterflies and knocks the breath from my lungs all at the same time.
This whole time I’ve been telling myself she was off-limits. That my friendship with Keelan was more important than anything I could hope to build with his sister, but the more time I spend with her, the more I realize my mom was right.
I’ve been alone for so long, and that was okay until now. Until this woman and her prickly attitude sauntered into my life and upset my carefully crafted routine. Now every minute of every day I find myself wondering what Lark is doing, or what she’s thinking, or trying to find a way to make up for the way her douchey ex treated her.
The truth is, I want her. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I can think of a million reasons why we might be a bad idea, but I can think of even more reasons loving her would be the best idea I’ve ever had.
By the time the fireworks finale comes to a close, Lark is fast asleep in my arms, perfect pink lips parted and breaths puffing out in soft exhales. Placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head, I pull her close and hope that Keelan will eventually forgive me. Because if tonight showed me anything? It’s that I don’t want to let this girl go.