by Olivia Hayle
As expected, he’s not in the living room or in the kitchen. The door to his home office is ajar, but it’s empty. There’s only one place he can be.
“Fine,” I say, heading into his bedroom again, to the drawer he’s dedicated to me. “You win. I’ll join you.”
Fifteen minutes later, I walk into the Amena’s indoor pool, the scent of chlorine faint but unmistakable. There’s only one person in the water. I wrap my towel firmly around myself and sit down on one of the poolside benches.
I’ve watched him swim half a dozen times now, but it’s still a thrill. He cleaves through the water like it’s silk. Arms and shoulders emerge out of the turquoise water, his forward crawl the fastest of his swimming styles. When he reaches the end, he flips underwater and pushes off from the wall, shooting like a lightning bolt.
Seeing him like this, it’s not hard to understand why his body is shaped the way it is. Strong, lean muscle mass. Wide shoulders and a muscled back. Powerful legs. I watch him swim shamelessly.
Cole spots me during one of his turns, and without pause, he changes direction. He pulls himself out of the pool right next to me.
“No,” I warn, watching him advance. “No, no, Cole, stop!”
He shakes his hair at me like a dog, cold drops of water hitting my skin. I try to dance away but he catches me around the waist. Laughing, he tugs at my towel. “Here for your lesson?”
“Yes, but now I’ve changed my mind.”
“Oh no you haven’t. Come on, coward. Get in.” His skin is wet and droplets cling to his eyelashes, his hair sleek on his head. It’s impossible to feign anger at him when he’s grinning like that, so handsome it hurts.
“One day I’ll snap, you know. I’ll never swim with you again.”
“Sure you won’t.” He slides into the water next to me and rolls his eyes as I frown at the temperature. It’s only bad for the first minute, and yet, every time is a struggle.
Under the surface, his hands close around my waist. “I’m glad you finally woke up.”
“You could have woken me when you left, you know. I wouldn’t have minded.”
“You were sleeping so soundly.” He glances down, a wicked spark in his eyes. “Wow. You really do find the water cold, don’t you?”
“Yes, I—” He flicks one of my hardened nipples and I gasp. “Not here!”
“We’re alone,” he says, bending to kiss my cheek. “We’re always alone at this hour.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and press my chest to his—no more access. He carries me through the water, his body strong and hard against mine. “You insist on doing this on weekend mornings too, huh?”
“I was in the water two hours later than usual today,” he muses. “Because of you.”
I rest my head against his shoulder. “That’s okay. You’re not swimming for competitions or tryouts anymore. You’re allowed to relax.”
His hands tighten around my thighs, moving us gradually into the deeper section. “Discipline is everything,” he says. “My father taught me that. Manners maketh man, they say, but that’s wrong. It’s habits.”
He tips my head back and kisses me, soft, searching, gentle. His lips taste clean and warm. “And you’re destroying mine, Skye.”
My smile is crooked. “I’m not going to apologize for that, you know.”
“I’d never ask you to.”
I kiss him again, and he stops walking, my body molding to his. Sweetness turns to heat, softness to pressure, and by the time I break away I’m breathing heavily.
So is Cole, his eyes dark.
I clear my throat. “Guess what?”
“You’ve abandoned your swimming lesson? That’s all right. Your instructor agrees.”
I laugh. “No. I’ve decided to turn the novella about the bookstore into a full-length novel.”
“You have?”
“Yes. It has all the right ingredients.” I lean back, dipping my hair into the water. “Even if no one wants to read it.”
“False modesty is a sin, you know.”
I smile up at the vaulted ceiling and float in the water, supported by his arms. “You’re right. I’ll stop.”
“Brooks & King wants the first chapters next week, right?”
“Yes.” Hearing him say it sends shivers down my arms, even though it’s been weeks since I’d received the phone call. They’d loved my query letter and said they’d looked forward to reading the finished product.
“I wrote an article too,” I say.
“You did?”
“Yes. About the renovation of Between the Pages, and about Eleanor. If I can make it interesting enough, maybe I can build some hype for the reopening.”
Cole laughs and the sound makes me smile. “Baby, the opening is months away. We just broke ground on the hotel!”
“So I’m just a tiny bit excited,” I say teasingly. “Is that a crime?”
He wiggles his fingers, tickling my sides, and I struggle fruitlessly to break free. “Cole!”
“No, it’s not a crime.” He kisses me swiftly before releasing me, pulling away with a leisurely backstroke. “Blair texted earlier. She wants us three to go out to dinner tonight. She says she still hasn’t met you properly.”
“I’ve met her three times!”
“Yes, but apparently meeting someone properly has to include dinner. Who knew?”
I swim after him. “Of course I want to go. Your sister is awesome.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Cole says morosely. “I’ve been replaced.”
I splash him, and he looks at me accusingly. “Terrorist.”
“Vandal,” I counter.
“Vandal?”
“Yes. Did you think I wouldn’t notice the rip in my panties last night? They were brand new, too. All lace.”
His smile is wolfish. “I have no regrets.”
“Brute,” I say. “Never stop.”
“I won’t.”
I swim after him, the temperature of the water perfect now. “I don’t have any going-out clothes here at yours. I’ll have to stop by mine before we meet up with her.”
Cole dives clean under the surface and I watch as he clears the distance between us easily, strong arms working.
He emerges right in front of me. “Just move in with me already,” he says. “You’re here practically every night. It’s going to happen, you know. It’s only a matter of time.”
“You’d go insane,” I tease. “There’d be hair ties everywhere. Can you imagine?” It’s not the first time he’s suggested moving in together, always jokingly, and I’ve always responded in turn. We’ve only been dating properly for two months, after all.
“For you, I’d endure endless hair ties.”
“How chivalrous.” I turn on my back, floating in the water. “Maybe you should invite Nick along tonight. They like each other, don’t they?”
“Absolutely not.”
“No?”
“They hate each other,” Cole says happily. “I’ve tried to get them to see eye-to-eye for a decade, and trust me, it’s not going to happen.”
I frown at him. Hate is not the feeling I’d picked up the one time I’d seen them interact. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Now come on, baby. You’re stalling.” Cole grabs his swim goggles from the edge of the pool. “Do you want these?”
“Yes.” I swim after him, mentally steeling myself. Cole’s been teaching me how to forward crawl, and though I’d felt clumsy in the beginning, I’m improving with every practice. I doubt I’ll ever have his powerful grace doing it, but I’m willing to try.
Cole smiles at me as he puts my goggles on. “Give me at least ten laps before we go to brunch.”
“Fifteen,” I say.
He grins and pushes off the edge of the pool. “Fifteen, then. Have I ever told you how much I love your competitive nature?”
“Yes. You’ve also cursed it, pretty frequently.” Like when I protested about the obscene amounts of money he spen
ds on me. Dinners, excursions, a few beautiful dresses…
Cole winks at me. “Whatever I say, don’t stop. I love it.”
My insides warm. I love it, he’d said, but my mind is already racing ahead. To the day we’ll say those three little words to each other. I know we’re not there yet, but it’s been dancing on the tip of my tongue for days, the feeling overwhelming. It won’t be long.
“Come on now,” he says. “I want to see you swim.”
So I push off and follow him across the deep.
Epilogue
Cole, a year and a half later
Skye smiles and pushes back her hair, accepting the huge bouquet given to her. “Thank you,” she says, though I’m too far away to hear the words. I’m familiar enough with her lips to read them without effort.
She’s wearing the floral dress I’d bought her. I’d seen it walking by a high-end store and picked it up without much fuss—simply because I wanted to see it on her. I’d known the silken fabric would look amazing on her, and I’d been right. It shines in the low bookstore lighting.
Skye had argued against the purchase, of course, as she so often does. You can’t spend this kind of money on me, Cole.
It’s taken me a lot of effort to meet those arguments with logic and understanding. Now, nearly two years into our relationship, she’s much better at accepting it. I have more money than I would need if I lived a hundred lifetimes. A nice restaurant for dinner makes the both of us happy; a beautiful gift is something I enjoy getting for her. The point of working so hard, after all, has always been to one day enjoy the fruits of that labor. And there’s no one I want to enjoy it with more than her.
Karli breaks me out of my musings, stopping at my side. “She’s earned this,” she says, both of us watching as someone asks Skye to sign a book. The pride in her voice echoes mine.
“She certainly has,” I say warmly.
“The renovation of Between the Pages turned out beautifully,” she says softly. “I never doubted you, nor Skye. And still… this is better than my wildest dreams.” She sweeps an arm out at the expanded space. More little nooks and crannies have been added. Nearly every section has been enlarged. And yet, the original structure and the old-fashioned charm is intact. The old spiral staircase remains, and in the corner stands a ratty armchair. Antique beams have been installed, and books surround us like trees in a forest.
“I’m glad you approve,” I say smoothly. “And you know you’re welcome to take back the operational role if you ever want it.”
Karli gives a little laugh. “Thank you. I appreciate it, but I doubt that. I’m enjoying my new job too much.”
“Good,” I say. “Because you’re about to get busy.”
“I am?”
“My company regularly has meetings and events where we need baked goods. I gave the name of your new bakery to my head of planning. Expect a call this week.”
Karli’s eyes widen. “Cole, I couldn’t ask that of you. It’s too much.”
“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Besides,” I say with a wink, “Skye has brought me some of your cupcakes. I’m doing my own employees a favor here.”
Karli swallows. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“No, I have to. And thank you for this,” she says in a low voice. “For the bookstore, for Skye… for making her happy. For all of it.”
“I won’t say you’re welcome to that,” I say firmly. “Not when it’s so clearly benefitted me too.”
“Right,” Karli notes. “The hotel.”
But that’s not what I’d meant at all. “No, although that too. I meant Skye.”
“You’re good for each other,” she says. “Will you excuse me for a moment? I want to check on the caterers. I think I just saw a tray of unpowdered beignets being served…”
I can’t help smiling. “Of course, go ahead.”
“Thanks…” She’s already heading off, pushing through the throngs of customers. Above us, the Skye Hotel stretches ten stories tall. Between the Pages set the tone for the decor, all dark tones and Old European furniture. It’s comfort and culture all rolled into one.
Skye had protested at first. You can’t name the hotel after me! But it was a stellar name, and I loved seeing it on all my documents. And after I’d proposed it to my team… well, it took on a life of its own. Soon, I couldn’t change it even if I wanted to—and I certainly didn’t.
I turn back to watch her talk to a customer, happiness clear in her features. This is a day she’s earned. Becoming co-owner of the newly re-opened Between the Pages has done her good.
So has the release of her debut novel.
Maybe she feels me looking at her, or maybe her eyes roam of their own accord… but she sees me standing in the wings.
A smile lights up her face. It’s a private one, meant just for me, and it’s filled with intimacy. I watch as she excuses herself and a few seconds later she’s in my arms. “You’re here.”
“Of course I am.”
She glances back at the line, at the crowd. “Can you believe this?”
“Yes,” I say. “It’s a fantastic book, Skye. They see it. That’s what they’re here for.”
“Not to mention Brooks & King pulled out all the stops for this launch party,” she says archly, but her eyes dance. “I can’t believe I’m having a book reading of my own.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Yes. I’d have to be dead not to be.”
I kiss her, reassuring, warm. “You’re going to knock them dead, baby.”
Her hands flex around my shoulders. In the dim light, her engagement ring glitters. “Thank you.”
“And as soon as you’re done you’ll be drinking champagne, a celebrated author, basking in people’s congratulations.”
She rolls her eyes. “Just what I wrote the book for.”
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, they say.” I bend down further, my lips against her ear. “But I love it when you use it.”
I can feel Skye’s smile against my skin. “I hate you,” she says.
“Yes, that’s it.”
She leans into my side and I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her into my body. “I’m so proud of you. Now go out there and kick ass.”
And she does. I stand in the back, watching as she takes a seat on the impromptu stage. Edwin Taylor clears his throat into the mic, and the crowd quiets. “We’re here today to listen to Skye Holland, our newest author, read an excerpt from her debut novel. But first—what inspired you to write this novel?”
Skye’s answer is lengthy, and personal, and I watch several people dab at their eyes. Eleanor’s dream became her dream, and with it, the bookstore. Her eyes flicker to Karli in the front row.
She reads a passage from the book to rapt silence. It’s an excerpt I’ve heard many times before—she’s been practicing this reading with me as her audience—and still… I want to burst with pride.
She accomplished her dream, and I know it’s only the beginning.
I join in on the feverish applause as she finishes up. Her smile, shy and proud at the same time, makes me ache inside. Hard to believe she’s all mine, sometimes.
“Cole!” Timmy pushes his way through the crowd to me. “There you are!”
I pull him in for a half-hug. “Man, you get taller every time I see you.”
He straightens a bit. “I know. I’m getting faster, too. Yesterday at practice I managed to get two home runs.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I had to tell you.”
“That’s impressive.” I put a hand on his shoulder and he beams up at me. Two years with Skye has also meant two years with her family, and while Isla and I still don’t see eye to eye, Timmy is mine to the bone.
“We’re still going to the game on Saturday, right? You and me?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I say. Timmy and I go to most games by ourselves now. Skye joins occasionally, but she’s just as happy to
send us off for what she calls “guy time.” I don’t mind at all. In fact, I’m currently in talks with the team to organize a meet-and-greet with the players for Timmy’s birthday.
Isla joins her son and shoots me a polite smile. She shares Skye’s brown hair and hazel eyes, but she wears the features so differently that they hardly look related. “This is beautiful, what you’ve done for Skye,” she says.
“Thanks,” I respond, “but she wrote the book by herself. Got it published herself, too.”
Isla smiles, but there’s a glint in her eye that tells me she’s not convinced. I swallow my anger and look for Skye in the crowd again. She’s glowing. As the months have gone on, she’s learned to tune out her older sister’s negative energy. As for myself, I only grow more and more incensed by it.
“Oh, I’m sure,” Isla says. “She’s worked very hard. But then again, having you as a boyfriend certainly can’t hurt.”
She says it with a wink, but there’s nothing humorous about the implication. As Skye’s success has bloomed, Isla’s little comments have grown in rancor. “Fiancé,” I correct. “And if I’ve given anything, it’s only been moral support.”
Isla snorts good-naturedly, but it doesn’t fool me. She’s not convinced. I leave her behind in search of my fiancée, finding her halfway through her first glass of champagne and with a beautiful flush of excitement on her cheeks. I slide an arm around her waist. “The reading went so well.”
“It did, didn’t it?” In her heels and her sleek dress, she’s somehow professional and irresistible at the same time. It reminds me of how she’d looked at Legacy, the first time I’d seen her. Mysterious and alluring. “I’ve signed so many books, too. Do you want your own copy?” she asks, eyes glittering. “Who should I make it out to?”
“Dear stud,” I say.
“Oh, of course. I can’t believe I even needed to ask.”
“I forgive you,” I say. “I’ll accept ‘to my future husband,’ too.”
“I like the sound of that.” She stands on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “Should we head to dinner soon? I don’t want to keep Blair and your mom waiting.”
