Rogue: A Paradise Shores Novel

by Hayle, Olivia

  I swallow. “It’s not… well. Yes.”

  “Yes you did, kid. God, there was a time when I didn’t think you’d make it to your eighteenth damn birthday…” He reaches for a cigarette, and I can see that his hand is slightly unsteady. “If your good-for-nothing father could see you now… Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize to me.”

  “No, if only Alice could see you now,” he says, and when he looks at me, I see that his eyes are glazed. I know he has the same eyes as my mother, the same hazel color. It’s the only real resemblance between them. “She’d be over the moon.”

  “That her son got rich?”

  He shakes his head. “That you made something out of yourself. That you’re not going to become your father. That you were dealt a pretty shit hand of cards and you’re standing tall. A fucking homeowner. My nephew’s a homeowner. Not even your grandfather could say that.”

  I don’t know what to say. His praise is sudden and unexpected, so much more than when I graduated from military college. He’d flown in then to see me, standing in one of the back rows, sunglasses glinting in the sun.

  “You were dealt a pretty shit hand of cards, too,” I say. “You were given a sullen and ungrateful seven-year-old and you decided to take him with you.”

  “Of course I did, kid.”

  “Not everyone would have made the same decision,” I say. The words are hard to say—I have to force them out—but they’re important. It’s important that he knows this. “I didn’t become rich on my own. You helped that happen.”

  He runs a hand along his neck, staring at the table. “Nah. You did that all on your own.”

  “Absolutely not. I know how much I owe you, Gary.”

  “You don’t owe me a damn thing.”

  “Will you let me say thank you?”

  He sighs. “Fine. Go ahead, boy.”

  “I don’t know if I’m going to live in Paradise Shores. I don’t know what lies in store in my future. But I do know that the house here is too big for just me. There’s a spare wing with a guest bedroom and a kitchenette.”

  His eyes narrow at me, but I keep going, ignoring the look he shoots me. I know I have to phrase this offer right—and I only have one shot.

  “You can’t live in the Marchands’ beach house after you retire. I don’t know what your plans are, but if you want it, the house is yours to use.”

  He shakes his head but says nothing. I wonder if it feels too much like a handout—like the kind of charity I’d been to the Marchands.

  “There’s a large garage and toolshed that needs to be filled, and I don’t have the time.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I could use someone to look after the plants.”

  Gary looks out across the ocean for a long time. I wonder if it’s as much a part of him now as it is of me. He grew up inland, far away from the coast, from boats and marinas and the sound of seagulls. But somehow, it’s become home for the both of us.

  “Someone to mow the lawn,” he says finally.

  “Exactly. I won’t have the time.”

  He reaches over and offers me his hand. There’s a glint in his eyes I haven’t seen before, and belatedly, I realize they’re glazed with tears. I shake his hand.

  “I accept, kid.”

  24

  Hayden

  The drive to Lily’s house that evening doesn’t take long. The streets of Paradise Shores feel as familiar to me now as they did when I left, structured and ordered, winding around a central square. Turning up on Ocean Drive to the boardwalk, the cafés, the marina in the distance. Knowing that the Marchand house is on the far north of Ocean Drive, Lily’s cottage to the south.

  The sun hangs low by the horizon and the ocean glitters with an orange hue. For the first time in a long while, my shoulders don’t feel quite so tense. Gary had accepted my offer without much hesitation. And Lily had, while maybe not forgiven me entirely, accepted me back into her life.

  I park outside her house and smile as I open the gate. It’s still perfectly oiled and functioning. There are a few shingles on the roof that need to be changed too—I saw that from the start—but I know I have to start small.

  Lily opens the door before I can knock. There’s an apron around her waist, her cheeks pink and blooming with heat.

  “Hi.”

  “Hello.” I bend and press a soft kiss to her lips. The happiness in her eyes nearly undoes me, knowing how much I’ve missed it, how close I was to losing it forever. “What’s that amazing smell?”

  “Do you like it?” She dances over to the kitchen. A large pot is on the stove. “I’m trying to make bouillabaisse.”

  “The French seafood stew?”

  “Yes. Remember?”

  “I do. It’s amazing.” I follow her, standing close enough that I can smell the fresh scent of shampoo clinging to her auburn hair. It’s braided along her back. I’m struck again by an image of it wrapped around my hand as she’s bent, as she moans— I cut off that line of thinking. I’d decided to take things slow. I couldn’t afford to mess this up again.

  “The one your mom used to make.”

  “The very one.” She stirs the pot, leaning back against my chest. “I think you liked it growing up, unless you were faking.”

  “I wasn’t. Don’t you know I’d never fake?”

  Lily laughs. I run my fingertips up her bare arms and watch as goose bumps follow my touch.

  “Neither do I,” she says.

  I brush a kiss against her neck and try to ignore the arousal her words produce. “I remember.”

  “The stew can handle being on its own for a bit.” She turns in my arms, pressing the soft length of her body against mine. For a few minutes nothing else exists but the feel of her soft lips. I make my touch lazy, sweeping my hands slowly over her back, her hips, her shoulders. Savoring every inch of her.

  Lily’s the one who touches her tongue to mine first, and I can’t help but smile at the intrusion. She’s always hated being treated as if she couldn’t keep up. My decision the other night must have felt like we were children again.

  I slide my hands down and cup her bottom. It’s easy to push her closer against me, against the hardness that’s making it hard for me to think rationally. It always has been, where she’s concerned.

  Lily chuckles and starts to kiss my neck. “You really can’t fake anything with me.”

  “Not that.”

  She slides her hand down and traces a finger along the bulge in my pants. It’s already straining against the fabric and I hiss at the feeling of her nail, softly tracing the length.

  “All this could be solved so easily, you know,” she murmurs. “You know I’m willing.”

  “Mhm.” I grab her wrist and pull it away from my groin, not without some difficulty. It’s almost painful how hard her words make me. Wrapping my hands around her waist, I turn her back to the stove. “The stew is boiling.”

  “Shoot.”

  I smile against her hair and watch as she stirs. It’s funny how right everything feels when she’s in my arms. My fears and problems fall away, the past and the future too. As long as she’s by my side, everything feels possible.

  We eat by candlelight at her kitchen table. The food is delicious, and I tell her so, even going in for seconds. There’s laughter in her warm eyes when I reach for another piece of bread, ready to dunk it in the stew.

  “What?”

  “I was just wondering where all of it goes.”

  “The food?”

  “Yeah. But then…” She lets her eyes trail down across my chest, down my body, hidden beneath the table. “It’s fairly obvious.”

  I quirk my lips into a smile. “Are you implying that I need to go on a diet, Lily Marchand? What a rude thing to say.”

  “Absolutely not. And don’t you get any more in shape, either, or I’ll never sleep with you again.”

  I laugh, despite myself. “Isn’t that counterintuitive? Most women seem to want muscles. The more the
merrier.”

  “Yes, well, I’m not exactly in your kind of shape. It’s hard already to imagine taking my clothes off with all that going on.”

  Lily says it lightly, her eyes teasing, but I can’t help but wonder if she’s serious—if there’s a thread of insecurity lingering under her bravado. I remember the shy girl from all those years ago, her hands courageous but trembling.

  And there is nothing even remotely wrong about her shape. There’s rather too much right about it, if parts of my anatomy have anything to say.

  “Your body is insane, Lils.”

  She laughs, a faint blush on her cheeks. “Hayden.”

  “I’d want you regardless, you know. But that’s the truth. There’s no part of you that doesn’t entice me.”

  “You haven’t seen me naked yet,” she says, voice amused. Her eyes promise pleasure, sending shocks of want through me.

  “Of course I have.”

  “I mean, not now. Not since you came back.”

  “So?” I tap a finger against my temple. “Infallible memory.”

  “I’ve changed, dumbass.”

  I frown and pretend to look confused, letting my eyes wander over her collarbones, her smooth shoulders, the slopes of her breasts under the shirt. The curve of her waist before it dips out into hips that I remember gripping tightly.

  “No,” I say. “I can’t see anything different. I’ll suppose I’ll just have to take a closer look to see.”

  Lily grins at me. “I suppose you have to, then.”

  “And when the time is right, I will.”

  After dinner, I walk around her small house. It’s the first time I’m properly let in. The cottage might be small, but it’s cozy, and every inch of it bears her imprint. Its Lily’s personality come to life.

  I pause at the framed pictures on the wall. One is Lily in her graduation gown from Yale. She’s posing in front a large brick building, her hair straight and gleaming, a cap on her head. There’s an unexpected stab in my chest at the sight. Yale, one of the many reasons I left—to ensure she got the future she deserved.

  She pauses at my shoulder. “Oh. It was a massive ceremony.”

  “Did your family come?”

  “Yes, they drove up for the day. Henry came in from New York, Parker too.” She’s quiet for a beat. “Rhys was the only one who didn’t make it.”

  “Rhys wasn’t there?” I find that hard to believe. The Marchands’ middle son had always been Lily’s protector, the one person who’d championed and understood her dreams of art.

  She shakes her head. “No.”

  I wrap an arm around her shoulders and press a kiss to her hair. There’s more, I’m sure, that’s happened in the years since I was last in her life on a daily basis. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.

  “What about this?” I point at a picture of Lily in front of a gallery. She’s wearing a sleek silk dress, her hair long and glorious over one shoulder. There’s a glass of champagne in her hand. Looking at her makes me want to stand next to her and wrap an arm around her waist. You can look, but not touch.

  “A gallery opening. The first exhibition I curated myself.”

  “In Manhattan?”

  “Yes. It was modern art.”

  “Do you miss it? The art scene.”

  She shakes her head, and I’m close enough to see the freckles that smatter across her nose. “No. There was too much pretension. Art is supposed to make you feel, and it’s supposed to be fun. There’s skill to it as well, of course, but… I couldn’t stand those environments.”

  I pull her toward the couch. She sinks down next to me. “And here in Paradise? There’s not much art around here.”

  “Well… I sort of want to change that.” Lily’s smile is crooked, her eyes mischievous. It’s a look I recognize well. It means she’s about to say something to shock or tease me, or suggest we do something that will definitely land us in trouble.

  “Tell me.”

  “There’s a place on Porter Street. A small locale, nothing more. But it’s not too expensive, and I think I can get a good deal through Harris Development.”

  “All right.”

  “I’ll transform it. Art on the walls from people in the area, maybe showcasing art from further afield every now and so often. And I could host art classes.”

  The excitement on her face stirs something similar in me. I can see her vision, and I know she’d execute it beautifully. “I think you should, Lils.”

  “Really? I’d be using a fair bit of my trust to buy it. And it would be a risk. It might never make financial sense.”

  I shrug. “And if it doesn’t, you’ll sell the place a few years down the line. It’s not a big deal.”

  Her smile broadens. “I don’t know why I thought you’d caution me against this.”

  “Me neither. Have you forgotten?” I lean forward, nipping at her earlobe, loving the sound of her laughter. “I’m the wild one, remember. The one from the wrong side of the tracks.”

  “There are no tracks at all around here.”

  “Which just goes to show how far from home I actually am.”

  She smiles at me and I can’t help but smile back. “Most people in my life won’t approve,” she says. “Parker won’t understand. Mom will be cautiously optimistic, but she won’t get it. Dad will hate it. He’ll probably say I’m wasting my trust, my time and my talent.”

  “So fuck him.”

  She barks out a surprised laughter. “Hayden!”

  “What? I respect the man, but it’s your life, Lils. You have to live it.”

  Her fingers trail up my arm. “You’re right. I’ll see if I can start the paperwork tomorrow.”

  “Mmm. And let me know if you need any help.”

  She looks up at me. “Help?”

  “Getting the place in shape. Hanging paintings. Reviewing art classes… Posing as a model.”

  Lily giggles. “You’d pose for me?”

  “Yes. Nude would be best.”

  She leans in closer to my side and presses a kiss to my neck. Her lips are soft against my skin, moving gently down to the collar of my shirt. “I’ve drawn nude men before. It’s a lot of fun.”

  My arm tightens around her shoulders. The response is involuntary. I picture another man, eager and college-educated, lying on a couch for her. I imagine what happened after.

  Lily’s voice is low against my skin. “In class. We had to learn how to sketch muscles, to draw movement.”

  My shoulders relax. “I want to see what you’ve painted in the last few years.”

  “It’s not much.”

  “I’m sure that’s a lie.”

  She turns and sits with one leg on either side of me, in my lap. Her hands find their way around my neck and for a long moment I can only stare at her, at the wonder of her long fiery hair and beautiful eyes. At the smile she’s giving me. Now that I’m back in her life, I’m astonished I ever survived without her.

  I lean forward and take her mouth in a kiss. It’s too easy, with her, to lose myself entirely. To forget who I am and what I’ve done.

  She presses herself closer, her breasts flattening against my chest. I let my hands slide down and cup her bottom, to fit her more tightly against me. I’m so damn aroused it’s difficult to concentrate on anything but her weight against my groin.

  “How long will you torture us both?” Lily murmurs, letting her hand trail across my shoulders. She rolls her hips and I have to grit my teeth against the sensations that ripple through me. “It’s been over a week since the greenhouse now. We’ve been on three dates.”

  It’s hard to concentrate through my desire. She’s too important to me, and I need to make sure there are no regrets.

  But that doesn’t mean I can’t give her some relief.

  I kiss her again, stronger this time, and smile at the sound of her low moan. Her skin feels hot to the touch. It burns my hands and my lips, and still I want more of the fire.

  Grabbing her hips, I flip
us around. Lily grins as I spread her out on the couch beneath me. The fabric of her flimsy sundress bunches around her waist, taunting me with the expanse of pale, freckled thighs.

  I kiss down her neck, touching my lips to her collarbone.

  “All right,” I murmur, letting my hand skim down her body. I flick her taut nipple and I’m rewarded by the sound of her gasp. “Let’s check this…”

  She pulls at my shoulders when she realizes where my hand is going. “Hayden—”

  “Yes?” I ignore her faint protest as my hand lifts the hem of her dress. The skin along the waistband of her panties is soft as silk to the touch. It’s easy work to slip my fingers underneath it, to reach down and tease her soft warmth.

  Lily lets out a moan, and I can’t help but smile at her. The blush on her cheeks is magnificent. “You weren’t lying,” I murmur, my fingers parting and circling. I slip a finger inside her, and I’m rewarded with another breathless moan. “You really are that eager.”

  She nods against my neck, wriggling and writhing. It makes it harder for me to focus on touching her, until I realize what she’s trying to get a hold of. I angle my hips away and she sighs in frustration.

  “Please.”

  It takes me a moment to respond, with her body pressed so close to me. But she’s too important to me. I have to make sure there are no regrets.

  And in my desire-addled mind, I say that.

  “No regrets,” she whispers. “None at all. Hayden, I want you.”

  And God knows I’d wanted her forever, from the first time I saw her, and would until my last dying day. She’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.

  “All right, baby,” I murmur, curling my finger inside of her. “Let’s get you into bed and taken care of.”

  Lily doesn’t protest when I lift her up, carrying her into her bedroom and onto the oversized bed. She just presses closer to me. “Finally.”

  25

  Lily

  Hayden lays me down on my bed and wastes no time in getting back to what he started on the couch. He folds me back and tugs my panties down my legs. Strong hands push my legs apart, fingers curling over the soft skin of my thighs.