Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Kit
Tess is the perfect amalgamation of her parents. Not just their names (Ted + Marissa = Tess, if I were a guessing man) but also in appearance. The black-and-white photo is cast in an orangey glow that spills through the windows onto the wall where it’s hung, just to the left of the hallway that leads to the elevator bay. The sun has only just risen, and the lobby is quiet save for the gurgle of a coffee machine coming from the opposite corner of the room. A bored barista looks on while the girl who checked me in stands next to her, mixing up a concoction of epic proportions, complete with a mile-high whipped cream topper. She pops a straw in before returning to the middle registration pod, drink in hand.
I turn back to the photo, noting Tess’s small face and twinkling eyes mirrored in her mother. Her father is tall, and I’m guessing she gets her sharp wit from him given the open-mouthed smile he’s aiming at the person behind the camera. Each parent braces a hand on a little Tess’s shoulder. While they pose for the picture, she’s busy staring up at her dad with a gap-toothed grin.
In Loving Memory, the plaque reads. Ted and Marissa Monroe.
A quick Internet search brings up articles about the tenth anniversary of their passing. The Fly Hollow Chronicle notes their lasting impression on the community. A photo of two wooden crosses in the grassy margin just before a bridge concludes the write-up. They’re draped with flowers, and an elderly man who vaguely reminds me of Gary stands behind them. Marissa’s father, Ron, passed last year, the photo caption reads. I check the date on the article. It’s already been a couple years since it was released.
They’re all gone. That’s what Tess said when I asked about her family last year. She truly meant everyone. I push a palm to my aching chest. She stands so tall for a woman carrying so much. Part of me wonders if anyone ever told her she shouldn’t have to.
I snort under my breath. What a fucking hypocrite I am. Here I stand, wishing she’d open up and let someone (me) take care of her, and yet I’ve spent God knows how many years trying to handle everything—my failed relationship, a high-stress career, my brother’s issues—all by my lonesome. Pot, meet kettle and all that.
Courtney was the only person I ever opened up to about my brother. Had to, since a big portion of our savings went to his last rehab stint. I couldn’t burden my parents with the stressors his addiction caused, not when the entire reason I was handling things was to keep them from having to. But my ex-wife was sure to throw even that in my face, there at the end. All the more reason to keep it locked up inside.
Maybe the reason I’ve been unable to resist Tess is because I sense, deep down, how similar we really are.
I peel off my baseball cap and place it over my heart, meet Ted Monroe’s eyes as though he were standing right in front of me, and smile. “Your daughter is amazing.” My gaze slips to Marissa, with a face so similar to her daughter’s that I feel like I know her. “You both would be so proud.” A guest walks past, casting a curious glance my way, but I ignore him and press on. “She’s stubborn, but I’ll find a way to be there for her. Just give me some time.”
I dip my chin toward the photo and replace my hat. As I turn toward the door that leads out onto the pool deck, I lock eyes with the girl behind the registration desk. She smiles like she knows what I was doing. I wink, and hope she gets the message that this is to be our secret.
It’s early yet, but the air is already balmy. Immediately, sweat pools in every crevice I have. Some I didn’t even realize were there. Heat in the Gulf has a way of seeping into your very bones and then turning them sopping wet.
It’ll make for an interesting morning jog on the beach.
The gentleman skimming the pool waves, and I return the gesture. On the water’s surface, the reflected sunrise is split in two by his net. It looks more like sherbet than pool water, and I’m already craving a refreshing swim when this run is over. Maybe I could even convince Tess to join me.
Fat chance, given how things went at the bar last night.
But if she thinks for one second that I missed the way she responded to my touch, however brief, she’s got another thing coming. I’d recognize that little gasp anywhere. The way her skin pebbled before she pulled away. All the details that have been seared into my brain since our kiss at the Horseshoe. I doubt she’s even aware of her reactions, that’s how primal they are. But I want more of them. More of her.
And despite every alarm bell going off in my brain, I want to take care of her. This place clearly means something even deeper to her than I realized, and the pain wrenching her face over the changes being made gutted me. Tess’s features are hardwired for joy. Her white-blonde hair, her sun-kissed skin. Lips that curve into a smile like a flower blooming. Seeing sadness take root not only hurt, it felt wholly unnatural.
My shoes hit the sand and sink in. I wobble like a newborn deer for a moment. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve come home. Stepped foot on the beach. It’s hard to believe my brother and I were once water babies, nearly addicted to it for the week we’d spend at Orange Beach each summer while growing up. Our mother had to pull us from the ocean by our ears when it was time to head home back then.
I don’t know what it feels like to be Tess, but when I think of my brother and how life used to be, I imagine it comes somewhat close.
Once I’m on firmer ground near the surf, I take off. The beach is empty save for a few surfers testing the measly waves kicking up this early in storm season. It doesn’t take long before my limbs grow heavy and my lungs squeeze tight. I push through the burn and, on the other side of it, find the type of quiet my brain only encounters on a run.
The sun is baking my neck by the time I’ve looped around a pier a few miles from the resort and made it all the way back. It’s still early, but I spot several people enjoying their breakfast on the wooden patio that juts out from the pool deck. To my left, a woman floats on the still surface of the ocean, a few yards out so she’s clear of the waves breaking. My steps falter without me realizing why. Then she shifts to a standing position, and as the water sluices from dark blonde hair onto the narrow wings of her shoulders, recognition slaps the back of my head like a gong.
“You do realize sunrise is, like, prime feeding time for sharks, right?” I call out.
Tess spins around, but she can’t fix her face into irritation fast enough to hide the fact that for a moment, I made her laugh. “Mama always said they’d spit me back out. Too bony.” She flaps her arms for emphasis.
“I’ll bet she did.”
Never mind that the last word I’d use to describe Tess is bony. She’s all softness. From the curve of her hips to her ample breasts, which are on mouthwatering display in a blue string bikini. I’m mesmerized by every inch of her, right down to the sexy swell of her lower belly that makes me want to grovel at her fucking feet.
She tilts her head and, as though I’ve spoken these thoughts aloud, blushes crimson.
She’s the first to break eye contact, dropping her gaze to the water swirling around her hips. “You know, you’re failing miserably at keeping your distance.”
That’s because I don’t want to. I clear my throat and lock my hands together behind my head. “What? How was I supposed to know that blob floating in the ocean was you? I just thought I’d impart my ample knowledge of shark behaviors on this random passerby, in case they didn’t know. What kind of asshole would I be if I didn’t and you got eaten because of it?”
“Ah, yes, if you hadn’t mansplained marine life to me, I’d be screwed,” she deadpans.
I arch a brow. “I noticed you’re still in the water.”
“How astute.” She half-heartedly splashes in my direction, though she’s too far out to even come close to hitting me. “I prefer the sharks’ company to yours.”
“You know I can also eat you, right? If that’s what you’re interested in.” The words are out before I can second-guess them. For a moment the air between us is fully charged. I’m bracing, and also kicking myself internally, when she holds out what I’m expecting to be a middle finger.
Instead it’s a thumb, which she turns straight down. “ Booooooo! ”
Nervous laughter whooshes out of me. Then it grows, changes, until it’s a full-on guffaw. Because she’s referencing our first day together, and that can’t be anything but a very good sign.
Finally she begins wading toward me. Just as she’s about to step out of the worst of it, a particularly strong wave hits her backside, and she’s vaulted forward. I rush to catch her. My shoes are immediately soaked. She falls into my arms, and we stumble back, my moment of attempted heroism going south at the same time our bodies do.
We hit the sand in a tangle of limbs, but I’ve managed to take the brunt of the fall, with her landing on my chest. Our gazes meet, and her surprised gasp turns into a wrinkled nose and a tap on my forehead. “You stink, you know that?”
“Yeah, well, I just ran for the last hour.” I make no move to get up, even as another wave blankets the sand we’re lying on. For however long she’s willing to remain like this, I’ll be here, savoring every place where our bodies meet. “What’s your excuse?”
She smells like her signature coconut sunscreen and the sea. I bet if I kissed her, she’d taste like sugar. Which means I’m lying through my damn teeth, and by the look on her face, she knows it.
“You are insufferable,” she says, but there’s no bite.
“And yet”—I release my hold on her long enough to gesture to our entwined bodies—“you’re here.”
Her green eyes narrow, and before I can lift a hand to protect myself, she’s dropping a handful of sand right onto my face. A knee nearly connects with my balls as she pushes to her feet. By the time I scramble upright, she’s halfway to the stairs.
So I jog after her.
Hopeless. I’m so damn hopeless when it comes to her. “What do you have planned for the day?”
“Nothing,” she tosses over her shoulder. “Just going where the wind takes me.”
I shudder internally. That sounds like my worst nightmare. I catch up to her, grab her hand, and spin her toward me. Sand coats her skin, and I’m overwhelmed with the desire to bathe her. To wash all the evidence of my bungled rescue attempt from her gorgeous skin.
I swallow hard, and she notices. Her gaze darts to my throat and lingers. Is she breathing faster? Or am I?
We both glance at our joined hands, but neither moves to separate them.
“Spend the day with me,” I offer. “Let me make this whole thing up to you.”
“Let you make up for the fact that you crashed my vacation… by further crashing my vacation?” She glances up, amusement sparking in her gaze. Her face is open this morning. Less guarded. I try to savor it as much as possible while it lasts.
I shrug. “Pretty much.”
She shakes her head and laughs, which feels like progress. “Did you seriously not have anything better to do than go on a trip with a stranger?”
One light squeeze of her hand and that laughter dies on the breeze. “You’re not exactly a stranger, Tess.”
She slips from my grasp and takes a step backward. Away from me. “Couldn’t visit your parents?”
My flinch is involuntary and hopefully imperceptible. “Too busy.”
Her brow lifts. “Siblings?”
“Just the one, and definitely not.”
She throws her arms wide. “Friends?”
I suck air through my teeth, and she pinches her lips closed. Pink lights up her cheeks in an instant. Apparently we’re both embarrassed for me.
“Wow. I don’t know how you did it, but now I feel bad for you. ” She crosses her arms and shakes her head. Drops of salt water spill from her waterlogged hair down her torso, and it takes everything in me not to trace their path—with my gaze or my tongue.
I lick the salt from my lips instead, not missing the fact that she watches me do it. “What an honor. If you’re done, can we return to my original offer?”
For a moment all I can hear is the rush of waves and my own rapidly beating heart. She has no reason to say yes, and after the way she’s reacted to me the last twenty-four hours, I don’t expect her to. But hope is a stubborn bastard. He’s hanging on for dear life, even though I’m starting to wonder if we should’ve given up already.
Her gaze is low, settled on the ground behind me, when something in her expression softens. “Okay.”
My stomach leaps into my throat. “Okay?”
Tess lifts a brow, gaze darting to mine, as though daring me to keep questioning this olive branch.
Right. “Okay.” I dust my sand-covered hands off on my sopping wet gym shorts and grimace. “Should we change first?”
“That depends. What are we going to do?”
Of course. I need a plan. Something that will get her out, get her living, so that hopefully the changes happening here will hurt a bit less. It’s what works for me, anyway.
Something I saw on my jog flashes in my mind, and I grasp onto it like the life rope it is without a second thought.
“How about parasailing?”