Chapter 28 #2
We were shown to the beachfront bungalow I’d rented for the weekend, and she marveled at everything, from the lush greenery, to the lit-up trees along the path and warm glow of the lanterns dotting the shore. We freshened up before going out for our first ever public dinner together.
The restaurant was right on the beach and she kicked her shoes off in the sand like she’d been holding back tension for years and finally remembered she was allowed to let it go. “This is obscene.”
She looked out at the turquoise water, illuminated near the resort by lights on a pier, but stretching endlessly into the dark. Meanwhile, I couldn’t stop staring at her. “You look happy.”
Radiant, actually, but let’s ease into it.
Her dark brown hair was loose, cascading around her shoulders, and those eyes were brighter than I’d ever seen them before. When she finally brought her gaze back to mine, she smiled. “Thank you, Sullivan. This is amazing. Really.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Thank you for showing up today. I really wasn’t sure you would.”
“Neither was I,” she admitted quietly, then reached for my hand across the table.
When her fingers slipped around mine, she glanced at our joined hands for a beat, then looked back up at me.
“This was an awesome idea, though. I just hate that it took having to fly all the way out here for us to be able to do this.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
She nodded, looking unsure. The waiter brought over a platter of fresh seafood I’d ordered in advance along with fruity cocktails, and she let out a disbelieving laugh, but even as we ate, she never stopped touching me. To my surprise, it was something that kept happening for the rest of the night.
Holding my hand. Sliding her arm around my shoulders when we took a walk on the beach. Cuddling into my side when we got into our bed.
It almost made me think she’d been as starved for this kind of contact as I had, and when I rolled over and kissed her, she finally just admitted it. “God, I love this. I love being able to touch you whenever and wherever I want.”
She smiled against my lips, her fingers stroking through my hair. I took her in, the genuine, relaxed smile and the joy shining in her eyes, and instantly decided we’d be taking a lot more trips from now on.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Do you think I could buy this island and we’ll just… move here?”
She laughed. “Shut up and kiss me, Sullivan Crowne.”
I obeyed the order without arguing, spending the next few hours trying and failing to get my fill of her.
We only fell asleep sometime in the early morning hours, but she still woke me up at the crack of dawn, brushing kisses to my chest, my throat, and my shoulders, pausing every so often to look up at me.
“Are you awake yet? We have to go, baby. They said breakfast starts at six.”
“That doesn’t mean we have to be there then,” I murmured lazily, reaching for her. “It carries on until ten or something.”
“Yeah, but we can’t spend all day in bed,” she said cheerfully, sitting up now that she was satisfied I was up, then scooting out of my grip. “Let’s go. I’ve already showered, so I’ll get ready while you shower. I can’t wait to see what this place looks like in the daylight.”
I groaned but hauled my ass out of bed and raced through a shower. Bree was already outside by the time I was done, practically brimming with excitement where she sat on our patio, just quietly watching the ocean.
“This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen,” she declared and took my hand when I offered it to her. “You know, my friend Ellora’s husband flew us to Florida once and I thought that was the most beautiful place in the world. I was wrong.”
I chuckled. “I’m of the opinion that every beach is the most beautiful place in the world. As long as it’s got sand and sea, I’m happy.”
“So you’re not a mountains man then, huh?”
I shrugged. “It depends on the season. In the winter, there are few things better than a snowy cabin in the mountains, but I’ll almost always choose fleeing to warmer climates instead.”
“Agreed,” she said, glancing up at me with yet another smile on her lips. “I’m the same.”
“It’s good to know we’ve got that in common. It’ll make our future trips much easier to plan.”
She pursed her lips at me. “Future trips?”
“Yep. Often.” I squeezed her hand as we reached our table in the breakfast area. “Will you do me a favor and not take any weekend shifts for the next few months?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you serious right now?”
“Yeah.”
She held my gaze for another beat, then nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, but our schedules rotate. Besides, we can’t go away every weekend.”
“No, probably not, but I like this enough to want to try,” I said. “Tell me about this friend of yours. Ellora? Why did her husband fly you to Florida? Was it a girls’ trip or something?”
She shook her head, then told me all about her friend, her friend’s husband, and her mother who’d been ill at the time and had wanted to see the beach one last time.
With every word she said, I could hear how much it’d meant to her, how much that patient had meant to her, and as we spent the rest of the morning just talking about the people we loved and our lives, I realized that I genuinely enjoyed getting to know her like this. Away from all the reasons I shouldn’t.
After we finally left breakfast, we ordered cocktails and carried our drinks down to the beach.
The sand was hot enough to make her yelp and jog toward the water, but she didn’t hesitate.
She set down her cocktail and dropped her cover-up, revealing a deep blue bikini that matched the ocean so perfectly it almost felt intentional, and waded straight in.
I stopped walking, not even caring that it felt like my toes were encased in lava.
She turned back when she noticed I hadn’t followed, the sun catching on the droplets sliding down her shoulders. “What?”
“Nothing,” I said, dragging my shirt over my head. “Just appreciating the view.”
Her smile turned slow and wicked. “Oh good. Because I’ve been appreciating mine since you picked me up.”
I shook my head, heading in to join her in the warm water. She moved closer, running her hands lightly across my shoulders.
“You don’t look like someone who spends most of his time in boardrooms,” she said thoughtfully.
“You don’t look like someone who works eighty-hour weeks and argues with surgeons,” I countered.
“That’s because I’m currently on vacation from my work personality.”
“I like it.”
She laughed and splashed me. Immediately, it turned into a short, chaotic water fight that ended with her shrieking when I caught her around the waist and dipped her backward into the surf.
When I pulled her back upright, she stayed with me, her hands gripping my shoulders and her eyes searching mine.
“This is…” she started, then stopped talking on a soft sigh.
“Dangerous?” I offered. “Yeah, I know.”
“I was going to say that it’s easy,” she corrected quietly. “Why is it so much easier when we’re not in the city?”
Because we’re good together when we’re not arguing about work. “I think it’s because here, we just get to be ourselves.”
She smiled at me, then started asking about my parents, my upbringing, and my hobbies. We realized we both enjoyed being outdoors, staying active, and reading fantasy novels. There were no awkward silences, no weird pauses, and no arguments as we swam and lay in the sun after.
Lunch turned into a long, lazy sprawl beneath a shaded cabana, plates of grilled prawns, seared scallops, and fish arriving in steady waves.
Bree attacked everything like she hadn’t eaten a proper meal in weeks, occasionally closing her eyes and making soft, satisfied sounds that were wildly distracting.
“This is the best food I’ve ever had,” she declared around a bite of lobster.
“You say that about every plate.”
“Because every plate deserves it.” She nudged a forkful toward me. “Try this one.”
“I ordered it.”
“And I’m feeding it to you,” she said patiently.
I leaned forward and took the bite, loving the way she grinned when I let out a sound of my own as I chewed. “Okay. That’s excellent.”
“See?” she said. “Best food ever.”
“That’s a bold claim.”
“You flew me to another freaking country. I think bold claims are allowed.”
We lingered there for hours, talking about everything except the hospital. She told me about growing up with a father who never sat still, always building or fixing something around the house, and how she’d learned early that helping people felt like breathing to her, automatic and necessary.
“You know,” she said, tracing patterns in the condensation on her glass. “I used to think my life would be smaller. Not bad. Just quieter than this.”
“What do you think now?”
She glanced at the ocean, then back at me. “Now I’m having a drink with an umbrella in it on a private beach with a man who owns a plane.”
“I told you, I prefer the term—”
“Access to a plane.” She rolled her eyes. “Semantics, but what about you? Did you picture this when you were younger?”
“No,” I admitted. “I pictured winning. I didn’t really care what that looked like.”
She studied me for a moment, her expression softening. “You’re different here. Whenever we’re not at work actually, but even more so here.”
“So are you.”
“Maybe this is who we are without pressure,” she said finally. “Do you think that means we stand a chance?”
“I hope so,” I replied quietly, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “We could, Bree. I really do believe that. It just might not be as easy once we get back.”