Kill Devil Hills: A Complete Beach Romance Series (4-Book Box Set)

by Sarah Darlington

  “What?” Most of her anger had mellowed but a trace of it was still there.

  “Will you be my girlfriend?”

  I’d never in all my life officially asked a girl this. I guess, when sex lasted more than one night, the term could be applied. But I didn’t want any doubt—in my heart or in hers. Georgie had some serious trust issues to work through. Because when she saw me talking with Sydney she shouldn’t have assumed the worst. But that didn’t matter. I wanted her—issues and all. I had my own issues that needed work. Maybe we could figure these things out together.

  “That’s kind of random,” she finally said in response to my question that still hung thick in the air between us. Not the answer I’d hoped for. Meanwhile, Rose had her mouth dropped open, gazing up at me while still holding her sister tight. I guess I was more entertaining than an episode of whatever reality show held her attention this week.

  “I don’t care if it’s random,” I said, interested in only what Georgie thought of me in this moment. “It’s what I want. I think it might be what you want too.”

  She took a breath. “But I just accused you of something that was probably nothing.”

  “It was nothing.” I ran my fingers through my hair, staring at her, still waiting for a damn answer. “But that doesn’t change my mind. It only reconfirms what I already know. You’re passionate as hell, and I love that about you.”

  A few more seconds ticked by and then she spoke again, still avoiding my question. “Well, I’m not sure if we even make sense together,” she whispered, but it didn’t sound like she believed her own words.

  “It only has to make sense to us,” I said softly. “And it makes perfect sense to me. Nothing has ever made more sense.”

  The smallest hint of a smile touched her lips. “Well, maybe you’re a little too old for me?”

  “Fu—Screw that,” I huffed, trying my best to refrain from swearing any more than I already had in front of Rose. “I’m not a grandpa here.”

  A full smile filled her face. “I was only kidding. Don’t get so defensive.”

  “Was that your last excuse?”

  Georgie nodded, barely, but that nod meant everything to me.

  Warmth burst through my chest. “Then tell me yes. Tell me you’re mine. Because I need to hear you say the words.”

  “Yes, Noah,” she said, confident and sure, surprising me by responding so quickly. “I’m yours. You didn’t need to ask.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  It was a good thing Rose was in the room with us. Because if not, I would have covered her with my body and made love to her right there on the floor. And, once again, I wouldn’t have had the chance to be gentle or slow. But dammit too, because I couldn’t even kiss her—not with her little mini-me glued to her side. For as tiny as she was, Rose was protective as hell. It made me wish, for the first time in my life, that I had a brother or a sister. I’d never wanted one before, always thankful no one else had to experience my shitty upbringing, but the love this family shared was pretty special. I only hoped Georgie saw what I did.

  I stood. Rose dropped her death-grip hold on her sister. And then the three of us went upstairs. I wasn’t sure what we were going to do, but that didn’t matter. This was the only place I wanted to be.

  On the way up the steps, with Rose a few paces in front of us, I caught my girl’s waist and pulled her back against my body, crushing the flowers that were still clutched in my hand against her. There was so much more I needed to say and most of it would have to wait until our time together tonight, but as Rose disappeared at the top of the stairs we had a small second alone and I took it. “I missed you,” I whispered, because it was the truth, and because she needed to hear it. “You’re all I’ve thought about—all day long. And I was counting down the seconds until I could get back here to you.” I kissed her neck, breathing in the scent of her. She smelled like strawberries and the rain. I didn’t want to let her go. “Please, don’t doubt how crazy I am about you.”

  My grip around her waist tightened. I’d been so relentless with her out on the sand that I’d never given myself the chance to savor and explore. My fingers trailed over her stomach, moved upward and brushing over her chest, as I kissed down her neck. She moaned and rested her head back against my shoulder. I itched with the need to take the full weight of one of her perfect tits in my hand once more. The beating rain outside matched the rhythm of my heart, but now wasn’t the time to explore.

  Reluctantly, I removed my body from her body.

  She turned around to look at me. Our eyes were level. “Why the flowers?”

  I’d forgotten that I still held the thick stems in my hand. Sunflowers—slightly mangled and droopy now. They weren’t good enough for her anymore—having survived the heat while I spoke with Sydney, the drive on my bike over here, and the last few minutes being clutched so tightly while Georgie put me through hell—but I handed them over to her anyway. I knew nothing about flowers, but I’d tried my best to pick something that fit her, and sunflowers were both strong and beautiful. “I wanted to get you something,” I explained. It was the best explanation I could come up with. “My conscious keeps yelling at me to slow down, and maybe I should try to listen to myself, but I don’t fucking care. Because when you know you know. And I know with you. So I got you flowers, and I’m probably going to do it again.”

  “Oh. Thank you,” she muttered and for a fraction of a second, her thank-you felt like it was for more than the flowers. I’m not sure what more she might have meant, and I didn’t ask. “I have to watch Rose tonight. Do you want to do that with me?”

  “I have nowhere else I want to be, pretty girl, and that’s why I’m here—to do whatever you’re doing.”

  She nodded, saying nothing more, becoming a little quieter than usual. I was normally the quiet one, so her sudden shyness threw me off. We climbed the rest of the stairs, me doing my best to keep my hands off her, and joined Rose on the living room couch. Georgie used her mom’s computer to order dinner for delivery and the three of us ended up staying in—watching a movie and eating pizza.

  Rose had forgiven me. Because she was talkative and loud—back to her normal self and explaining way more than I ever needed to know on subjects that I couldn’t care less about. Seriously. Someone needed to limit all the shit she watched on TV.

  But something was still a little off with Georgie. She laughed at the movie, didn’t resist me as I cuddled against her on the couch, and ate a few bites of pizza—but I could sense something wasn’t right. It was such a slight change, so minuscule that even Rose didn’t catch on, but I noticed it. And it made me realize how fucking brilliant she was at faking everything when she wanted to. The Georgie I’d come to know over the past few days hadn’t been ‘faking’ anything—not for a single second, and I was pretty damn certain of that. But this Georgie...she wasn’t quite my Georgie and I hated it.

  “You’re upset,” I whispered against her ear when the movie had about thirty minutes left. I couldn’t stand sitting still a second longer. “I can tell. I’m going to leave, go park my bike down the street, and then sneak into the guest room downstairs. Your parents will be home soon, but come get in bed with me as soon as you can. I’ll be waiting.”

  CHAPTER 18

  GEORGINA

  Noah was an amazing man. I shouldn’t have doubted him. He was surreal, handsome, thoughtful, and strangely interested in me. Why shouldn’t monogamous be added to that list? He gave me those sunflowers, and they took me back in time to another memory of him. One I never knew belonged to him in the first place, and it made me realize how completely undeserving I was.

  “Where should I put this one?” Mom asked, a small vase of sunflowers in her hand. Another flower arrangement had arrived. I had wealthy relatives out in Colorado and the things would not stop coming.

  They were all too beautiful, and I felt only ugliness inside. I needed them gone. “Mom,” I whined. I had a tube in my arm, was dressed in a paper-thin
hospital gown, and was lying in a bed that wasn’t the coffin I’d planned for yesterday. “Take them home, please.”

  Mom wore a purple shirt—one I hadn’t seen her wear in many years. She’d been here since I arrived and Dad being Dad must have grabbed whatever out of her closet as a change of clothes. He didn’t know any better. But somehow that purple shirt reminded me of my dead brother. I couldn’t look at anyone or anything and not remember that he was gone.

  “People send flowers because they love you,” Mom explained as if I didn’t already know that. “We all love you, Georgina. They’re meant to cheer you up. Please, let me leave them here.”

  “No.”

  “How about just one?”

  “Fine, whatever.” I couldn’t believe we were arguing about flowers. My brother was dead, and we were arguing about flowers.

  She dropped a small white envelope onto the table beside me, adding it to a growing pile—one mini-size card always came with each arrangement, and I wasn’t reading any of them. “I’m going down to the lobby to meet with the lady from The Cove. I’ll talk to her first and then she’ll come back here with me. We’ll talk about options and decide if The Cove is the place that could help you. Please, just listen to the lady. Give her a chance.”

  Mom kept bringing up this place called ‘The Cove.’ A friend of a friend’s daughter, or something random like that, went there, and they helped her deal with the death of her father. I didn’t want to get over Ben. I didn’t want to do anything. I only wanted the pain to disappear. I needed a miracle and for my brother to be alive—not a Shady-Acres, padded-wall mental hospital.

  I sighed, too tired to argue. “Fine. I’ll listen.”

  “Okay. I won’t be gone long.” Mom left and a nurse replaced her. She sat in a chair on the opposite end of the room, giving me my space, and not making conversation. I liked her. I liked when people stopped talking about what happened—stopped asking why. The ‘why’ was obvious, and yet, every single person who had been in here to visit me kept asking it. Mom. Dad. Ellie. But the problem with lack of conversation was…it gave me time to think about Ben and about all the people I’d let down yesterday. Jesus, help me. Because a giant part of me was still wishing yesterday’s plan would have been successful.

  Thanks a lot, Noah Clark, I thought sarcastically. It was his fault I still lived.

  But, surprisingly enough, I wasn’t mad at Noah. He saved me. I had a small memory of it—of him holding me, keeping me warm, and whispering something about ‘not dying’ in my ear. Mom explained how he’d been the one to find me and help me. I was alive because of him. And as much as I wanted to hate him for that, I couldn’t. In fact, thinking about it had my throat clogging up and catching fire.

  He’d fought for me. We barely knew each other, and he’d fought for me.

  I rolled over onto my side and the little card that came with the sunflowers caught my eye. I’m not sure what made me do it, since I still wasn’t about to read the rest of them, but I reached for it, wincing from the pain I felt in my arm. The pain medication had been forced on me yesterday, but I’d refused it today. So moving hurt.

  I tore the little envelope. The inside card was plain white with extremely sloppy handwriting—handwriting that covered the front and back. And I had no clue who it was from. Not Logan. His writing was neater than this chicken scratch.

  Keep breathing. Count your breaths if you have to. One day breathing won’t be as difficult. One day you won’t have to count. I promise, there is good stuff waiting for you. It will find you.

  I reread it a few times. The advice was simple, but in its own unique way, quite powerful. Then suddenly, Mom and the lady from The Cove came back into the room. I flattened my hands over the card, hiding it against my chest. I didn’t want anyone else reading it. And as this lady spoke, I mentally counted each breath. The counting thing seemed to help. And when she stopped talking, I decided I would give The Cove a chance. What did I have to lose? Maybe good could come from it.

  Good had come from The Cove. It had been a safe place for me to grieve—away from all the added pressure and drama surrounding my life. But now that I was home, and now that the sting from my brother’s death had turned into more of a dull ache, something else had come into focus—Noah. I hadn’t known until now that he’d been the one to write those words, but I’d carried that card around with me for the past four months anyway.

  Noah didn’t just save me the night he’d stopped me from bleeding out. He’d done it one hundred times over since that night. Every time I felt trapped by my grief, unsure what the purpose of my life was, scared, or alone, I’d counted my breaths and reminded myself, even when I didn’t believe myself, that good stuff was coming. And it had come. My roommate Patty had been the friend I’d needed while at The Cove, the counselors had taught me other coping methods, and time had helped heal some of the pain that once consumed me. I was even making progress with my family. And getting to spend this past week with Noah, falling in love with Noah—I now knew with absolute certainty that those words on his little card were true.

  Even when you think all hope is lost, things can get better.

  The only problem was…

  I felt so undeserving of Noah.

  As I waited for my parents to come home, and then ultimately go to bed, I considered marching downstairs and ending everything with him. After the shit I’d put my family through, why should I get to be with such an amazing guy? Why should I get to be happy? These were pessimistic thoughts, the very things I’d been taught by my counselors to dispute and push away, and I tried hard to ignore them. But I struggled, and I’d been struggling since I realized Noah had been the one to write those words on that little card.

  Around eleven, I made up my mind and crept downstairs. All the lights in the house were out and because of the rain outside, it was especially dark tonight. I had to feel along the wall to find my way. Even if I didn’t deserve Noah, there was no chance in hell I’d do anything to ruin what had started between us. I couldn’t do that—not to him. Maybe he wasn’t falling in love with me like I was with him, but I still knew he had strong feelings for me. The way he held me each night, the way he lingered when he kissed me, and the way he continuously made me feel safe—all of it told me he cared. Really cared. And I’d never purposely do anything that would hurt him.

  Entering the room, my heart doing jumping jacks, I found the bedroom light on, emptiness, and the sound of the rain outside drizzling against the window.

  “Georgie?”

  It was Noah. I hadn’t noticed him initially because he sat on the floor, out of view between the bed and the wall. “I didn’t want anyone else to come in here and find me,” he explained, standing. He wore his same clothes from earlier, not his pajamas. And instead of being fast asleep in bed, he was completely wide awake.

  He’d been waiting up for me.

  Exactly like he said he would.

  He crossed the short distance that separated us and hugged me. I stood there, a little shocked by his sudden movement, and let him hold me. I was more nervous now than I’d ever been around him before. We’d had sex, in the broad daylight. He’d seen every inch of my skin. And vice versa. I shouldn’t have felt all this acidic ‘I-ate-rocks-for-dinner’ churning in my stomach. But I did. I tried to break free of his embrace, but his strong arms wouldn’t let me move.

  “Noah,” I insisted. “Please.”

  “No. Fucking hug me back, Georgie,” he whispered, his voice gritty. “I need you to hug me back. For at least a moment.”

  “Fine.” I moved my arms from where they were locked over my stomach and squeezed them around his slim waist. Through the material of his shirt, I felt the warmth that he radiated and the lines of his hard muscles. The way I fit against him had already become very familiar—wonderfully familiar. I held onto him tight and something instantly changed inside me. This moment reminded me of that first night we’d snuggled in bed together—how initially I’d been rigid in h
is arms, but after a few minutes, I couldn’t help when I’d relaxed into him. That same thing happened now. Whatever guard I had surrounding me like an iron wall—it dropped. Relief rushed over me, and I buried my face in his chest, inhaling deeply.

  “There you are. Finally.” He sighed, squeezing his arms around me tighter. “You had me going out of my damn mind waiting down here tonight.” His fingers tangled into my hair, as if he wanted to hold me more firmly in place. Dropping his head to my shoulder, he dragged his mouth over my skin, kissing and nibbling. “I’m not very good at staying still when my mind is working like it does.”

  “You could have left,” I suggested.

  “No. I couldn’t have.” His grip loosened and he used his hands to brush my hair away from my ear. Then he whispered, his voice so low that it felt like a soft hum, “I fucked you in the sand this morning. And now I’m going to make love to you.”

  Holy shit. “Is there a difference?” I choked out, my throat clogging up on me.

  “With anyone else? Yes. I’m certain of it. With you? I don’t know. They might be one and the same.” He scooped me up in his arms. Good thing too because my knees were about to give out, and he carried me to the side of the bed. He set me down on the carpet—in the spot he’d been sitting between the wall and the bed—and he began pulling everything off the bed.

  He started arranging the pillows and blankets on the ground. I think he was creating a little nest or something. Um? Was he scared that if we had sex on the waterbed we’d pop it? Because why else would he go to so much trouble? I sat there, watching him and trying my best not to laugh. “What the hell are you doing?” I finally asked.