Pierce
“Who were you talking to?” I ask Thea the second she’s within earshot.
I don’t like the way that guy looked at her, like she was a dessert he’d been craving.
When she laughed with him, I hated the man.
She shouldn’t grant her happiness so easily.
Until she directed it at someone else, I didn’t realize how much I’ve come to crave her smile, her lightness. It’s a drug, and I’m an addict.
She looks down her nose at me, no longer smiling. “A new friend.”
I watch the new friend in question, who is leaving the pool deck. Something about him looks familiar, but I can’t put a finger on what. I don’t want him near her. Even if he isn’t a threat, his fake tan is definitely suspicious. “You can’t have new friends. You’re on the run.”
“It’s fine. I didn’t tell him my real name.”
Heat flares through my chest. It’s not fine.
Nothing this woman does is fine. Especially not walking around in a pink polka-dot bikini, showcasing the heart freckles on her stomach and swimming like an Olympian.
She’s not supposed to be drawing attention to herself.
If someone finds us, it will be because she doesn’t know how to be inconspicuous and those darn freckles distracted me.
I toss her shirt at her.
“We are going to trivia tonight,” she says as she slips it over her head.
“No, we aren’t.”
“Yes, we are.” Thea all but stomps her foot.
What we are doing is arguing like children.
“Why do you want to?” I ask, switching my approach.
“I promised my dad I’d have fun, and I plan to at least try.”
Fun and on the run don’t typically go together. “I think he’d prefer to see you safe.”
She rolls her eyes and drops onto the lounge chair next to me, stretching out her legs. She picks up her book, but she doesn’t open it.
“We are safe here,” she says.
“I hate to pop your bubble, but we aren’t.”
“Well, I feel safe, and I want to have fun. Cooper invited me, so I’m going.”
Cooper. My mind runs over the name, looking for possible recurrences. He’s familiar, in an unfamiliar way, and I can’t tell if my brain is playing tricks on me simply because he was giving Thea attention.
“I’ve already warned you about trusting strangers. There’s something off with him.”
“Yes. He tends to smile the normal-people amount.” She rolls her head to the side lazily, her wet blonde locks framing those bright blue eyes. Our faces are a foot apart, making this moment far too intimate. I stare up at the sky.
“Oh, and he complimented me. You’re right, super weird,” she says. “It’s trivia. What’s the worst that could happen?”
I exhale; it’s useless to fight with her. She’s a grown woman. I can’t keep her locked up in the cabin, as much as my caveman instincts would enjoy saying, “You. Stay.”
“Fine. But please, try to keep a low profile.”
***
Thea in a mouth-watering slinky red dress is the definition of not keeping a low profile.
From the moment we walked into The Slippery Mermaid—a name and place that gave me pause—all the attention has been on her glowing smile and infectious laugh.
I’m aware of each male looking in our direction, but no one has approached, thanks to my proximity to her.
“Can I get a drink yet?” Thea asks, slipping the delicate strap of her dress higher on her shoulder. “The lemonade looks amazing.” She watches a couple walk by carrying fruity drinks with mini umbrellas.
“Those are alcoholic.”
“I’d drink anything at this point.”
I wanted to make sure we weren’t in danger here before we bought potentially poisoned food and drinks.
“I’ll get some. I don’t trust your judgment.”
Her nose scrunches, and her lips purse in a small smile. “You get drugged one time…”
I wince and she ducks her head. “Speaking of… do you, uh, think my memories will come back soon?”
I hate that I don’t have answers for her.
I’m a good liar, but I can’t look at her as I say, “Of course. I’ll be right back.
” I stand, making a beeline for the bar, which is only fifteen feet from our table.
I don’t want to leave her long. I reach the bar and glance back.
She waves, and something leaps in my chest. That traitorous little organ is reacting to her like she owns it.
I give my order to the bartender and stare at the creepy mermaid behind the bar, forcing myself to focus on it and not Thea. The wooden woman is more my speed. Empty. Boring. Not needy or sassy. No commitments.
I’m losing it.
“Do you always frown like that?” a female voice asks, sliding up next to me.
“Yes.” I refuse to look at her, even as the woman presses into my side. I take a deliberate step to the left and locate Thea…who is not alone. Six men have descended like a pack of wolves.
“Maybe I could get you to smile,” the woman at my side purrs.
I don’t answer. Some guy has Thea’s hand and hoists her from her seat, spinning her in circles. What happened to the trivia night that was promised?
As if on cue, a microphone squeals through the room, causing a wave of grimaces. “We are going to start trivia in five minutes. Please pick your team now.”
“Want to be on my team?” the woman asks. I don’t know why she’s still here.
I turn to look at her now. She’s short, with brown hair and equally brown eyes. She doesn’t get my heart racing like my fake wife.
Forget the drinks and food.
“Sorry, I promised someone else.” I storm through the room toward the crowd of guys fighting over Thea’s attention to be on her team.
Cooper stands closest to her, and I shove my way through all of them until I’m right beside her, slipping an arm around her waist and dragging her into me. “Sorry, boys, this one is mine.”
They have the decency of tucking tail and leaving—all except Cooper.
Thea gives me a quizzical look as she absently plays with a button on my shirt.
Her finger slips through the hole, grazing my stomach, and I flex out of instinct. She blinks up at me with those innocent baby-blues, completely unaware of what she’s doing to me. “I promised Cooper he could be on our team.”
I’m really sick of this Cooper guy. I tug Thea in front of me, wrapping both arms around her so she’s trapped. Safe. With me. “I don’t share my wife.”
“Wife?” Cooper gapes. “I thought you just went through a breakup?” He looks at Thea, and I squeeze her hip to get the point across.
“Y-yeah. A while ago. I rebounded quick,” she says with a small chuckle, her hand fluttering in front of her, making her lie less believable by the second.
Cooper looks far from buying this ruse. I told Thea I wouldn’t do anything to make her uncomfortable, but right now this man is making me uncomfortable, and I’ve learned to suspect everyone. So I spin Thea around in my arms, grab her chin, and tilt her head up to mine.
And I kiss her.
I expect to keep the kiss up for approximately four seconds. Long enough to convince the idiot who won’t leave, but not too long I risk falling for her.
All time and reason escape me the second my lips touch hers.
They are warm and soft—and surprised. I’ve caught her off guard, and I like it.
I slip my other hand around her back, finding the smooth skin at the top of her spine and pressing her to me.
She reciprocates by weaving her hands around my neck and kissing me back.
It’s been so long. So long since I kissed someone that made my pulse jump through my skin. No one has ever made my blood vibrate through my veins like I was just shocked back to life. The world melts away. All that exists is her. Us.
I taste her bottom lip, dragging it into my mouth. She gasps, and it makes me want to do it again and again. Her fingers tickle across the base of my head, leaving trails of heat wherever she touches. How have I gone years without this?
Or is it just her?
I’m getting into dangerous territory now. I try to break the kiss, but Thea holds me with unnatural strength. My lips part, caving to her will, and for a moment I fear my heart is about to do the same. Instead, she presses her lips together and pulls back, her eyes wide.
We stare at each other, too afraid to unpack that kiss.
I peer at the empty space where Cooper used to be and let out an awkward chuckle. “It worked. He’s gone.”
Thea blinks. Once. Twice. “That was… for show?”
I lift my chin and release my hold. It physically hurts to do so. There’s an ache in my chest and my arms where she fit so perfectly moments ago. I lean against the table for support. What has she done to me? My throat is scratchy as I say, “Why else would I do it?”
The flame in her eyes tells me that was the worst possible thing to say. “I thought you didn’t play pretend.”
My jaw flexes. “I said I don’t like to. I never said I wasn’t good at it.”
“Game on, Mr. Larsen.”
What does that mean? And why am I excited at the prospect of finding out?