“You told Mark you were Special Forces and then asked him how fast he could run!”
He pulls me close and guides me to the parking lot. “He looked like a sprinter. I was just making conversation.”
“You implied you were carrying a gun.”
“No, I asked him if he was aware that in the state of Arizona it’s legal to conceal carry without a permit.”
“Then told him about your gun.”
He shrugs. “Yeah. But that was only after he told me you two lived together. I remember what you told me about the ex-boyfriend so—”
I cringe. “I never loved him.”
“I know.” He looks down at me and winks in a way that curls my toes.
I can’t be mad at Aden. He was a perfect gentleman tonight, even picked up the tab when it came, but I couldn’t help but notice how all his attempts at conversation made Mark’s face drain of color.
I stop at my car, uneasy about what happens next. About where we go from here. He seems to read my uncertainty, and if I’m not mistaken I’d say he’s feeling it too.
Shoving his hands in his pockets he leans against my car and for the millionth time in the last couple hours it hits me that he’s here. Aden is here. In my life. And I no longer have to pretend to be someone I’m not. Insecurity rushes to the surface.
“I’m boring.”
His eyes jerk to mine. “No. You’re not.”
“I drive a Volvo.”
He slides his gaze from me to my car and then back. “It’s a safe car.”
“Mark was safe.”
He shakes his head and drops his chin to his chest. “And I’m not.”
“No, Aden, that’s not what I meant, I just . . .” I’m messing this up. “I’m in unfamiliar territory. I don’t know where we go from here. I live in Phoenix, I have a job, I just paid a down payment and signed a lease on an apartment, I mean, nothing about us makes sense.”
He tilts his head to meet my eyes.
“Nothing about us makes sense except for what I feel when I’m with you.”
A chuckle rumbles from his chest and he pulls me to him, opening his legs to drag me in close. I throw my arms around his neck and he nuzzles my ear.
“I told you I’m not walking away from us, and I meant it.”
“But how? How will we make this work when we live so far apart?” I pull back and stare into his eyes, searching for the answer. “Where do we go from here?”
“The first thing we’re going to do is head back to my hotel so that I can make love to you until you pass out in my arms.”
A full-body shiver takes over and that sexy, lazy grin pulls at his lips. “I’m heading back to San Diego tomorrow, have a few meetings with investors and then—”
“Investors? For what?”
“I’m starting a commercial fishing company, got a couple boats lined up, some men who want in. Seems you weren’t the only person changed by Celia’s gift.”
“That’s wonderful!” I throw my arms around him and he follows suit by wrapping his tightly around my waist. “I’m so proud of you.”
“After I sobered up and tossed all the booze, seems I started thinking more clearly, want my life to stand for something more than being a drunk. If I throw my life away it’d be like spitting in the face of everyone who died so I could live.”
Tears spring to my eyes at his bold honesty. He’s never been so candid about what happened. I swallow my emotions, refusing to allow sadness to rob me of the joy of this moment.
“So, what’s your plan?”
He lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t loosen his tight grip. “Ahh, so this must be a Sawyer thing, huh?”
Self-conscious, I struggle for a way to backpedal, to push Sawyer away and bring out the fun-loving girl he fell in love with. “No, no, I uh . . . I—”
His lips press mine in a closemouthed kiss so tender it seems even more erotic than the hungrier kisses we’ve shared. “I love you, Sawyer.”
Those four words leave me breathless.
“And I could use someone to help me with a plan. Someone organized, good with numbers, someone to help me run the business side so I can run the boats.”
“Are you offering me a job?”
He sifts his hand through my hair, cupping my nape. “I’m offering you more than a job, freckles. I’m offering you my life.”
“But—”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“I don’t—”
“One day at a time.”
I slump into his body and release all the worries and what-ifs, giving into Aden’s confidence.
“I’m gonna take that as a yes.”
I nod, a freakish giggle bubbling up from my chest. “Sounds like a plan.”
ADEN
Walking hand in hand with Sawyer through the hotel lobby and to the elevator it feels like no time has passed between us. Those months of living in a drunken fog, and then thinking she was dead have dissolved to nothing more than what seems like a pebble in our path, something easy to step over and leave behind.
“This is a nice hotel.” She looks up at me, those green eyes and big lips that I thought I’d never see again, enticing me to engage. “My parents’ house is just a couple miles from here.”
I know. I found a listing for Tom and Darlene Forrester after reading their names in the obituary, which is why I chose this hotel. I’d planned on dropping by to give them the box I’d found in her cottage, and to introduce myself and see if I could get some information about Celia’s last few weeks.
I was desperate to know if she thought of me.
If she cared for me as deeply as I had her.
“That reminds me.” I guide her into the elevator, bummed when two people follow us in because that means I can’t take advantage of the privacy. “I have something for you up in my room.”
She turns to me with wide eyes and a smile.
I grin back. “Sawyer . . . so you’re the little perv.”
“Hey, you said it!”
The women in the elevator with us make a weak attempt to hide their laughter.
I cross my arms at my chest and watch Sawyer squirm with the discomfort, her cheeks flushed. Fuck, is it possible Sawyer is even more beautiful than she was as Celia? “It’s not that.” I shrug. “But after I show you what it is, I’ll wanna give you that too.”
The girls explode with snorting laughter and Sawyer covers her flaming red cheeks.
The door opens on the third floor and I grab my girl’s hand. “Good night, ladies.”
They reply in unison and Sawyer shakes her head. “You’re so bad.”
“You started it.” I get to my door and slide in the card key, opening the door and ushering her in. “I really do have something for you.”
I click on the table lamp and she sits on the couch while I go into the bedroom and pull the box from my duffel bag. When I head back in she studies the box with skeptical eyes. I place it on the table in front of her, then sit close.
“What is it?”
“It was Celia’s.”
She snaps her eyes to mine.
“I found it under a floorboard in the cottage.”
Reaching over, she slides the box into her lap.
“It’s how I knew that she was sick.”