She splashed it up onto her shoulders and face, letting the ocean cool her down. She’d never been one to swim out too far, but wading up to her knees or so suited her just fine.
Declan made his return up the beach, looking for landmarks, and although he was disappointed that the girl in the black bikini seemed to be gone, he recognized his house and figured he’d head back up after he went out into the ocean for a few minutes and let the tide buffet him about.
As he reached the water, he heard a child’s voice call out “Heads up! Sorry!” and saw a Nerf football in flight, heading in his direction.
Never one to pass up an opportunity for athletic glory, Declan drew a bead on the wayward ball, charged forward, and began his leap to make the catch. Displaying the focus that made him an all-county wide receiver in high school, Declan attempted to change direction as the wind made the ball dip, and he reached full extension – only to collide with a defensive back.
Although this defensive back was wearing sunglasses and a black bikini instead of shoulder pads and a helmet. The he was a very attractive she. And Declan had just knocked her down.
As he offered a hand to help her up and an embarrassed, stuttering apology to her, he realized, eyes wide with shock, that there was a reason she’d seemed so familiar to him. Her eyes were the same ones he’d first fallen for on the bridge ten years ago.
The girl in the black bikini was none other than Charlotte Sanders.
As he comprehended this, Charlotte had also come to a similar realization.
Her neighbor was Declan Degraff.
All of a sudden the past was back. And neither of them were sure what to make of it.
Charlotte knew one thing. She had to get out of here. Now.
Chapter Nine
“Charlotte!”
She could hear his voice calling to her, the voice she hadn’t heard in a decade. But she couldn’t stop.
“Charlotte!”
She trudged through the hot sand, the ground shifting beneath her as she tried to quickly make her way back to the cottage. What would she do once she was there? She wasn’t sure. She’d close the door on him and never open it again. Then she’d sneak out in the middle of the night and go somewhere else-anywhere else.
What was happening? How was he here? She’d read the article, it said Declan DeGraff is a proud West Coast transplant. He splits his time between his homes in Marin County and Medina, Washington.
Neither of those places were anywhere near South Carolina.
Of all the times for him to decide to come home!
She’d left her bag, her towel, her magazine, everything out on the beach. She didn’t look back. She was both scared he was chasing her and scared he wasn’t. She wasn’t sure which one frightened her more.
********
Declan was still stuck in the sand, holding a foam football and watching Charlotte run away from him. The shock of seeing her face had almost knocked him over. She was a ghost from his past, the biggest ghost of all, and somehow fate had made them collide again, in almost the same way it had on that day on the Ravenel Bridge.
He’d thought of chasing her, but the look she’d given him when she’d realized… She’d looked terrified. And when she’d literally stood and run from him, it was clear that chasing her down wouldn’t be ideal.
God, she was still beautiful. Those eyes, still sad, still haunting… and her body. It was still as magnificent as he remembered.
All he wanted was to go to her, to tell her everything that had been sitting on his heart for the past decade.
But it was clear that Charlotte Sanders was not interested in hearing it.
********
Charlotte reached the cottage and when she turned around, breathless, she could still see Declan’s tall form in the distance, still standing next to her towel, looking back at her with a look of shock and bewilderment.
I must look insane, she thought. He wasn’t even chasing me.
She entered her house through the sliding patio door on her porch and as soon as the cool burst of air conditioning hit her flushed skin, she began to cry. It was too much, all of this.
She slowly slumped against the glass and slid down to sit, her feet tender from the hot sand, her calves sore from running on it. What did she do now? Would he come to the house? Or would he leave? Her body and heart willed him to knock on her door. Her mind wrestled to overrule both of them.
He was still so fucking handsome. Why did he have to look even better than he did ten years ago? Tall, dark, tan, with a more knowing face. Declan DeGraff was clearly someone who would age well, the proof of the sports he’d played in college still imprinted on his muscular body.
Maybe she should have stayed. But what could she possibly have said? And what could he possibly say after how he’d ended it?
No, she couldn’t talk to him. She wouldn’t. She hoped he didn’t try to come knock on her door. Because she wasn’t answering.
********