by Ally Blake
“She’s all right, I guess.”
The moment the words left his mouth Cormac knew he’d played it too cool. Gray might not be as over-educated as Cormac, but he was no dummy.
Gray leaned against the car. “All right, you say? Sure, if a face that would once have been carved into the bow of a ship could be considered ‘all right’.”
Cormac continued rubbing wax over the plane of his board.
Gray grinned. “Seems really smart too, don’t you reckon? Scary smart. Quick tempered, though. A little sharp on the palate but elegant with it. Graceful but tough. Killer combination.”
“Maybe you’re marrying the wrong sister.”
Gray laughed, delighted to have finally nudged out a response. “Nah. I’m good. I love my little bundle of sweetness and light. Harper is far too cool for the likes of me. By that I don’t mean cool. I mean hot fury banked behind an icy mask. That one’s pure kryptonite for poor saps who seek out a challenge.”
Gray shivered dramatically, like a St Bernard shaking water from his coat.
While Cormac felt his gaze drag back to the women on the beach in time to see Lola performing a headstand, feet wriggling gleefully.
Harper, on the other hand, stood with her arms crossed, shaking her head, her entire body a study in tightly coiled suspicion. It ought to have been enough for him to dismiss her out of hand.
For he was easy going. Look at him, waxing a surfboard on a week day. Sure he’d done three hours of work before the rest of the gang were even awake, and he’d do more tonight once his babysitting duties were done. But he was extremely content with the balance he’d achieved in his life.
In fact, he’d have gone so far as to say he had life pretty much figured out.
Relax. Look up. Breathe. Be kind. Do good. Figure out what you love to do and do it more.
So why did seeing Harper walk out of the Chadwicks’ house that morning make him feel like a racehorse locked in a stall?
Why, every time she came near, did he feel a need to brace himself, as if readying for a jolt of static shock?
Why did watching her now feel as if he was staring at sunlight glinting off the bonnet of his car, forcing him to blink against the intense bursts of light? Yet he couldn’t look away.
In the distance, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin to stare out at the horizon.
And it hit him.
The first time he’d seen Rear Window, he’d been fourteen years old. He still remembered the moment Grace Kelly first appeared on screen, her shadow falling ominously over Jimmy Stewart as he slept on, unsuspecting.
He’d found himself stunned by those sultry eyes, the mouth slightly open, décolletage bare as she leant in for a kiss.
But it was her cool detachment as poor Jimmy tried to lift himself out of his wheelchair to follow her kiss when she pulled away that had made him feel as though some switch had been flipped inside of him. As if he’d been given a glimpse into the mysterious, dangerous, world of Woman.
That was Harper Addison.
She was nothing so simple as a challenge. She was a tectonic shift.
“Earth to Mac,” Gray said, his laughing voice now sounding as if it was coming from a mile away.
Cormac blinked and sniffed in a breath. Then he held up a hand to his face as if he’d been looking beyond the sand to the waves. “Better get cracking if we hope to find a decent curl.”
“Funny, I’ve never seen you so intensely interested in a curl before.” Then he reached out and slapped Cormac on the arm. “Relax. I get it. And I’m okay with it.”
Cormac rubbed the board so hard the wax went flying out of his hand and rolled down the scrubby bank, collecting sand and dirt as it went. “Mate, I’m not hot for your fiancée’s sister. Nothing is going to happen there. So get over it.”
Curled darkly beneath the sudden sharp twang to his voice, Cormac heard his father. It took the edge off his aggravation as thoroughly as a bucket of iced water.
Plucking his board from the sand and hefting it under an arm gave Cormac an extra few seconds to summon up a smile. “You’re projecting.”
“You think?”
“Tell me you’re not imagining us buying houses in the same street. Having Sunday barbeques. Our kids growing up as cousins.”
Gray’s eyes widened. “Whoa. I hadn’t even thought that far. But how amazing would that be? You should totally marry her.”
Cormac brought a hand to his chin and pretended to consider it. “Nah. I’ll pass.”
“Whatever you say.” Gray tossed his apple core into the bush beside the car, then turned and jogged down the rickety stairs criss-crossing the dunes leading down to the beach.
Cormac breathed out hard. Closed his eyes against the sunlight a moment while he pulled himself together. Then whistled for Novak to stop investigating the scrub and follow him down the steps.
And not for the first time he thought, Thank goodness for Gray. A guy who’d never raised a fist to Cormac. Or even his voice. A guy whose family had been nothing but open, and warm, and welcoming, even when Cormac had been angry, confused and scared. Without them, who knew what path he’d be on now?
Which was why coming back to Blue Moon Bay had never been in question. Not really. The moment they’d offered him the job, he’d accepted. For he owed the Chadwicks more than loyalty. He owed them his life.
When Gray reached the girls he shoved his board into the sand before creeping up behind Lola and lifting her bodily, swinging her in the air.
Novak danced around them as Lola’s squeal was caught on the wind.
Harper stopped mid-lunge, her hands coming up onto her hips before she shuffled her bare feet together. Her pale jeans had been rolled up to her knees. Her fussy top was now tied around her waist, leaving her in a lacy tank-top. As she heaved in a breath Cormac was gifted with a peekaboo sliver of skin and a flash of belly button.
Who knew an outie could be enough to make a man have to breathe deep in order not to embarrass himself?
Harper turned right as Cormac shifted his surfboard in front of him all the same, her long ponytail whipping around her face. Small curls had sprung up around her hairline. Her cheeks were stained with colour, her hazel eyes bright.
One of the thin straps of her top slipped down her shoulder, revealing just a hint of a curve of a strapless bra. Half-cup. Heaven help him.
“Your thing,” he grunted, glancing determinedly at her shoulder.
“My what?” she asked, brow furrowing.
“Your—thing.”
Words having deserted him, Cormac moved in, lifted a hand to slide her strap back into place, his knuckles grazing hot, sweat-dampened skin, before he drew his hand away.
Keeping his gaze up wasn’t enough to stop his heart from pounding. To ease the blood rush behind his ears. To dampen the urge to slide the strap back off her shoulder, to run his palm over that soft, sun-kissed skin.
Harper’s chest rose and fell in short sharp breaths. Heat shimmered in her bright eyes. Mutual attraction spread like a fog, curling around them till they were both enveloped.
Then she cleared her throat, readjusted her top and shook her hair out of her eyes before going back to glaring at him for all she was worth.
What had he promised Gray? Nothing was going to happen there. He’d actually believed it as he’d said it. As if saying it would make it so. But, up close and personal, he knew it wouldn’t be a given. It would have to be a choice.
Somehow Cormac found a last remaining scrap of cool, enough for him to dredge up a smile as he asked, “Having fun?”
Lines dug deep into the skin above her nose. “What do you reckon?”
“You know, that’s the first time that you sounded like a real Aussie.”
She narrowed her eyes like a cartoon villain. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Figuring baiting her had to be safer than touching her, he said, “You’re all uppity-woo now. Posh-tosh with that non-accent of yours. Almost as if you’ve purposely scrubbed away any evidence of where you came from.”
Harper’s eyes went from comically narrow to wide with shock. “I’d never have imagined the day I heard Cormac Wharton say ‘posh-tosh’ or ‘uppity-woo’. It was worth coming back just for that.”
And then she laughed. The sound unexpectedly raw, husky and brash. It shot heat straight from his ears to his groin. When her laughter subsided, it left a smile behind. The kind that kicked at just one corner of her mouth. A mouth that was pink, soft and far too kissable.
Cormac took a subtle step back, turned his surfboard horizontal, used it as a shield. “Going to have a dip?”
She glanced out at the churning waves, the wind having picked up over the past couple of hours. “You’re actually going out there. Looks...dangerous.”
“It is. And yet I go anyway.”
She rolled her eyes. “So brave.”
“Nah. Just hooked. I head out every day if I can. Ups the dopamine. Great workout. Great excuse for a big breakfast after.” He patted his flat belly. Watched as her gaze went there. And stayed.
Her eyes darkened. Her jaw twitched. Her chest rose and fell again. This staying-away-from-her thing was not going to be easy. But whoever said self-sacrifice ought to be?
“This’ll be my second time today, in fact. Gray slept in. So here we are.”
“Gray does love his sleep,” said Lola, appearing with Gray’s hand in hers, before tipping up onto her toes to give her fiancé a kiss.
Cormac saw all this out of the corner of his eye, unable to keep his gaze off Harper. Meaning he didn’t miss the contempt that tugged at the corner of her mouth.
It wasn’t for Lola. It was clear she adored her little sister as much as Lola adored her. Meaning the disdain was all for Gray.
Cormac’s sense memory snapped into gear, his muscles tightening with the readiness to step physically between a loved one and a threat. A theory he’d been skirting around until that moment shifted into sharp focus, and the final reason Harper had him feeling on edge fell into place.
Her questions about Lola the night before, asking how happy she was, had not been casual. Harper was not on board with Lola marrying Gray, and he had no doubt that over the next few days she’d do something about it.
For he’d known people of her ilk before, prepared to voice their opinion even if it made them unpopular, because being right was more important to them than being judicious.
Harper had it in her power to unhinge everything. To make Lola doubt. To cause trouble for the Chadwicks. To hurt Gray. Add enough pressure and any family could be made to tear apart.
He stepped in, ready to take action, when Lola perked up and said, “Come on, Harps, let’s go for a walk. Go surf, boys. The day is still young and there is much left to do.”
Harper’s wince was infinitesimal. Though when her face cleared there was none of the animosity he’d seen towards his friend. Just her usual heady mix of fire and ice.
“Can we take Novak?” Lola asked.
Cormac tipped his chin up the beach and Novak took off, bolting along the sand before turning back with a “hurry up” bark. And the women followed, Harper’s hips swaying hypnotically as she navigated the soft sand, caramel ponytail swinging beguilingly behind her.
“Kryptonite,” Gray said, his fist exploding while he made the accompanying sound of a bomb, before running down into the water and out into the waves.
Realising he wasn’t fooling anyone, Cormac watched the women work their way up the beach for a few more moments before he tore his gaze away and made his way to the water’s edge.
Once knee deep he threw his board down and his body after it. It might not be the cold shower he needed, but it would have to do.
* * *
The car was relatively quiet as they rounded Beach Road on the way back to the Chadwick estate. Lola had gone in Gray’s Jeep, leaving Harper and Cormac alone.
Unfortunately, it only made her more aware of Cormac in the seat beside her. The warmth of his thigh near hers. The nearness of his hand as he changed gears. The fact that she knew he was feeling it too.
Never in her life had she met a more confounding man.
First there was his geography. Well-travelled, and internationally educated, he chose to live in the back end of the most remote habitable continent on earth.
And she was extremely wary of how close he was to the Chadwicks.
Then there was the hurtful memory of the last thing he’d said to her all those years ago.
For some reason she got the feeling he didn’t seem to like her very much either, yet she’d found him devouring her with a glance more than once.
Not that she’d acted any better. Watching Cormac come out of the surf, water droplets raining over him like diamonds, his chest bare, board shorts clinging to strong brown legs, she had felt as if she’d swallowed sand.
No matter the unexpected spark between them, there was nothing to be gained by revisiting her old crush. She had to be vigilant. Keep her focus tight. On Lola and the family her sister was hoping to marry into.
They hit the coastline, land dropping away to the squalling Southern Ocean on their right and rambling up into the sky to Harper’s left. Shadow and light flickered over her face, forcing her to shut her eyes. And jet lag mixed with the emotional see-saw of the past couple of days finally took over.
In a sleepy half-awake state, Harper found herself once more swimming in memories. Like Polaroid pictures, the images were a little fuzzy and out of focus. But the location was clear: high school, tenth grade.
Part of the school extension programme, Harper had been able to join the year above for one class per term. Once it had been biology with Cormac.
Harper, thankfully, had been partnered with the top student in the class, an industrious girl from Torquay who bussed in every day.
Thankfully, because without her steering Harper might well have spent every lesson staring at the back of Cormac’s gorgeous head.
He’d been partnered with Terence “The Bug” McIntosh. Named for the thickness of his oversized glasses.
Harper—who knew Terence a little from when she was collecting money to save the bees—knew that Terence liked the nickname. Bugs were his favourite people. But that didn’t make him less ripe for the attentions of those with an eye for bullying.
While Cormac’s friends made it clear they thought it hilarious he had to sit with The Bug, Cormac had ignored them all.
In fact, he’d taken the time to make friends with his lab partner—this kid half his size, with a face full of spots and interests a million miles from Cormac’s own. Laughing during class, stopping to chat to him in the halls, throwing his arm around the kid’s shoulders, marking him as a protected species. Together they’d delivered a hilarious and well-researched final presentation that Harper had watched with both hands over her cheeks lest the whole class see her adoration for Cormac written all over her face.
Harper came to with a start. It took a moment to remember she was in Blue Moon Bay, Cormac’s car rocking beneath her as he drove her back to the Chadwick estate.
“It’s the sea air,” Cormac murmured.
She turned her head to find him watching the road. One arm resting on the open window, the other hand a light touch on the steering wheel.
He shot her a quick smile, and she had one last flashback to high school; a time of constant study, keeping down a weekend job, volunteering, navigating her dad’s mercurial moods. Even on her most challenging days, that smile had never failed to chase her blues away.
“The sea,” he repeated. “The sunshine. The fresh air. It does something to a person. On a cellular level.”
She waited for a pun
chline. But he was serious. He wanted her to know this place was important to him.
Before she could ascertain why it mattered that she understood, they slowed, pulling around the white brick walls leading to the gravel drive of the Chadwick estate.
The Jeep had beaten them there. Lola and Gray watched Cormac and Harper pull up, all bright, guileless gazes and big, toothy smiles. The monstrous house loomed behind them.
“The two of you look like an ad for healthy, wealthy living,” Harper muttered while she unclipped her old seatbelt and fiddled unsuccessfully with the door handle.
“Thanks,” said Lola.
Gray burst out laughing. “Honey, I’m not entirely sure she meant that as a compliment.”
Harper stopped wrestling with the handle as she caught Gray’s eye. Well, well, well. Not as simple as he seems.
As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, Gray tipped his head in acknowledgement.
Before she could react, Cormac reached across her lap, grabbed the inner door handle and clicked it open.
At the wash of warmth from his nearness, his drinkable scent catching her out, Harper stilled right as he drew his hand back. The backs of his knuckles caught on the frills of her shirt before brushing lightly, softly, achingly over her breasts.
The whole thing happened in less than a second, yet Harper remained frozen. Her breath stuck in her lungs, the frills of her shirt swaying under her nose like some teasing reminder.
Then her eyes went to his.
He gave her an easy smile, no teeth, as if simply waiting for her to hop out of the car. Only the flare of awareness burning in the depths of his eyes, and the way his hand gripped and ungripped the steering wheel, indicated he’d felt the touch too.
“Thanks?” she said.
“You’re welcome?” he said, copying her faulty inflection. Despite the attempt at humour, his voice was deep and throaty and coarse. The voice of a man barely holding himself together.
“Come on, Harps,” Lola said, her sing-song voice coming from a million miles away.
Spell broken, Harper swallowed and hopped out of the car on shaky legs.
