“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said. “Doro went to bed. I came up to finish your IV.”
I lay back down, my heart still knocking away. “Good Lord, you people should carry defibrillators with you.”
“I’m sorry.” He pointed at the stand beside my bed. “Mind if I have a look?”
“Sure.”
He edged his way to the bed and fiddled with the bag. “Looks good. I think you’re all done here.”
“What time is it?” I looked around for my phone. I must’ve never pulled it out of my purse when I got back to my room.
“A little past two a.m.” In a few seconds, he had removed the catheter and wrapped the line around the used bag.
“Sorry for keeping you up so late,” I said, but he just shrugged. “You can throw that away in the bathroom.”
When he reappeared, his hair looked wet, like he’d smoothed it down. He stood awkwardly in the center of the room, waiting, I guessed, to say good night. I contemplated telling him about William Kitchens and Farrow. The spiked tea and our struggle and the stolen truck. I wondered how much it would freak him out. I wondered if he would offer to stay with me. If he did, I could see myself telling him everything.
I could see myself falling asleep in his arms.
I shook my head, clearing the cobwebs. Koa’s reason for being here was still a mystery. And even though my gut told me I could trust him, I wasn’t sure. It was possible that feeling was just plain, old-fashioned sexual chemistry. Unburdening myself should wait.
But there were other things we could do in the meantime. Things that didn’t include talking. Koa might have said we should keep our distance, but here he was, standing in my room. Looking tense and gorgeous and like he might be persuaded to stay.
I propped myself up on one elbow. “You want a drink? I have some whiskey.”
“No, thanks.”
He didn’t move. The smell of gasoline or oil, from whatever piece of lawn equipment he’d been working on that day, wafted over me. My eyes dropped to his arms, brown and muscled. They looked like they could snap a tree trunk. Possibly the best arms I’d ever seen. Top five, easy.
“I Googled you,” he said abruptly, and I couldn’t help but break into laughter.
“Great opener,” I said. “Very smooth.”
He shrugged. “I figured you were used to people doing that. But I wanted to tell you up front. So, sorry, I guess. It’s really weird, now that I’m saying it.” He smiled.
I sighed. “No, I’m glad you told me. That was very considerate, actually. And it’s okay you did it. I don’t mind.”
He was quiet.
“So. I’m guessing you want to know if the gossip’s true?”
“None of my business.”
“No. But I’ll still tell you.”
He hesitated. “You dated Graeme Barnish? The guy who wrote the Aggregate series?”
Heat crept up my neck. “Yes.”
“I read those. They’re good.”
I made a face.
“He’s kind of a big shot,” he said.
“Yeah. A married big shot. Which is one reason why he’s an ex.”
Koa didn’t respond.
“It’s a pretty nasty story,” I said. “Worse than anybody knew.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he said. “But we don’t have to talk about it.”
I nodded.
“Or any of your old boyfriends, really.”
“I just thought you might be wondering.” Now my face was legitimately burning, and my mouth had gone dry. This conversation was beginning to feel like it had taken a wrong turn.
“I wonder about you a lot,” he said.
He was studying me. Not smiling. Just looking and my stomach fluttered in response, just like when he’d put the cath in my arm. I felt a small stab of regret about the heinous, ratty T-shirt and pajama pants I’d thrown on.
“What I mean is,” he said quietly, “I think about you.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, walked to him, and put my hands on his chest. The heat from his skin warmed my fingers. Slowly, I let my hands drift down and dip under his shirt, touching his bare skin. I moved them up, palms flat against his chest, and closed my eyes. He’d broken into gooseflesh under my touch.
“You’ve never told me your last name,” I said.
“Pierson.”
I withdrew my hands, but he caught my wrists before I could move away.
“Why did you do that?” he said.
“I don’t know. I wanted to?”
He kissed me then. A thorough, urgent, crushing kiss, like he’d been holding back for a very long time. I threw my arms around his shoulders and pressed myself against him in response. After a few moments, he pulled away, but kept his face pressed close to mine. I could feel his breath in my ear.
“I guess being Meg Ashley,” he said, “you’re used to getting whatever you want.”
I closed my eyes and breathed in the traces of cut grass and gasoline. He couldn’t know how wrong he was. Being who I was meant hardly ever getting what I wanted.
After a moment, I spoke.
“Sometimes I think about what it would be like if my mother wasn’t my mother. If I could’ve grown up someplace like Bonny Island. If I could wake up to that sunrise and the ocean and the marsh every morning. Just breathe without worrying about all the bullshit.”
I opened my eyes. He was looking down at me.
“Ridiculous, I know,” I said.
“No.”
Our eyes were locked.
“You can talk to me,” I said.
He was quiet.
“You can tell me about Neal Baker. What you’re really doing here.”
He inhaled deeply, and I felt my body move toward him in response, pulled in with his breath. He shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t believe it. A man of honor. A man who kept his promises. Other than Edgar, I hadn’t encountered many of them. Unexpected tears filmed my eyes, followed by the hot sting of embarrassment. I looked away.
“But you don’t have to know everything about a person to kiss them,” he said.
I didn’t move.
“You know enough. The main thing, anyway.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“That I want you.”
He dipped his head, found my mouth, and kissed me again. And my God, it was perfect, and he was right, I didn’t have to know his secrets. Not tonight. I could let him kiss me for the sole reason that we both wanted it. So I did, and he kissed me—again and again and again—the force of every kiss pushing me away, so that he had to keep grabbing my arms or my shirt or the elastic waistband of my pajamas and reeling me back to him.
We’d worked our way over to the balcony doors, where I finally managed to grab two fistfuls of his T-shirt as well, just to anchor myself. The doors were open just enough for the breeze to billow the curtains like flags. Koa looked past me, over my shoulder, out into the darkness, breathing hard.
“What,” I panted.
He was quiet for a minute and I couldn’t read his face. “It’s nothing,” he finally said.