Sunrise on the Coast: The perfect feel-good holiday romance (Island Romance Book 1)

by Lilac Mills

  ‘Sí, ravine. There are hundreds of them on the island. Tenerife has water under the rocks, and when that water becomes too great because of the rain, the barrancas are like rivers. Small rivers,’ he laughed, ‘little, not like your English rivers.’ He’d watched the BBC news with her the other evening, when flooding had been reported because of all the rain, and he’d marvelled at how green her native land was.

  ‘There is a barranca, Barranca de la Punta Blanca, which comes from the mountain and ends where you watch the surfers.’

  ‘There is? I hadn’t noticed it.’

  ‘It is small, just a little…’ He made a V shape with his hands. ‘It comes down behind Luis’s farm. You do not see it because you are too busy watching the surfers,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘Yes, you’re probably right,’ she admitted, ‘and even when they’re not there, I’m always looking at the sea.’

  ‘You will miss it when you go back home.’ It was a statement, not a question, and she decided that now was the right time to tell him about Dominic’s apartment.

  ‘I don’t think I will be going back to England. Not yet, anyway. When my time with you is up, Dominic has suggested I move in with him.’

  Hugo was reaching for his coffee, but his hand stilled and he gave her a sharp look. ‘Dominic Brockman? He wants you to live with him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I see.’ He picked up his coffee, then put it down again before he’d taken a sip. ‘I wish… but no. It is impossible.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘For you to stay at the villa. No, it is better that you accept Dominic’s offer. But please make sure that this is what you want. For a while, I thought… ah, never mind.’

  ‘Oh, you think—? It’s not like that. He said I could live with him until I get another job and can afford a place of my own.’

  ‘It might not be like that now, but Dominic is handsome and encantador, and soon you will be in love with him.’

  She made a mental note to look up the word ‘encantador’ later. ‘I doubt it. I don’t feel that way about him, not like—’ She stopped herself just in time. Hugo didn’t need to know that she was pining after his nephew – it might make things awkward between them. Maybe it was for the best if he did think that she and Dominic had something going on, despite her protests to the contrary.

  Anything would be better than seeing the pity on his face when he realised that she had fallen in love with a man who lived several thousand miles away and was already taken.

  Chapter 33

  ‘Encantador’ meant charming, she discovered later, after they’d returned to the villa and she’d completed her chores for the day. Hugo was certainly right about that – Dominic was charming, but she didn’t hold that against him, and she desperately tried not to compare his sunny, outgoing personality with Alex’s more introverted and serious ways. The two men were polar opposites and each of them invoked different feelings in her. The one was more like a brother, the other…? The least said about that the better, she thought.

  Giving herself a mental shake, she took her coffee out onto the terrace and was surprised to see how angry the ocean had become. This afternoon it had been almost millpond calm, but now it was a mass of white-crested waves, and the boom of them hitting the shore was louder than she’d ever heard it. She pitied anyone out in a boat in these conditions; although she expected most of the tourist vessels would be safely moored, there was still the occasional fishing boat braving the sea.

  ‘The storm, she is coming,’ Hugo said, taking the mug she held out to him.

  ‘So I see. I can’t decide whether I’m excited or scared.’

  ‘Both, perhaps. There is nothing like the mountains or the sea to make you feel small. You cannot fight nature; all you can do is accept it.’

  That sounded like good advice for her personal life too. There was no point in bemoaning her lot – she needed to accept it and learn to live with it. Eventually her feelings for Alex would fade until they became bittersweet memories, but until then all she could do was to ride it out, the same way she was still riding out the loss of her mother.

  Grief reared its head again and stared her in the eye, and she knew it was going to be one of those nights where sleep would refuse to come. Oh, well, she reasoned resolutely, the noise of the approaching storm would probably have kept her awake anyway.

  She decided she’d better take Paco for his evening walk before things got any worse, and needing to stretch her legs and hoping that the freshening air would blow away her swirling emotions, she called to the dog.

  ‘I’ll be about an hour,’ she said to Hugo.

  ‘Be careful. It is dark and the sea is rough. I do not like you going out alone at night.’

  ‘I always take Paco for a walk in the evening,’ she replied. ‘I’ll be careful. It’s not like I’m about to go clambering over the rocks or anything.’

  ‘I worry about you.’ He beckoned her over to him and indicated that she should bend down. Planting a kiss on her cheek, he said, ‘I have become very… er… I don’t have the English word for it, but you are like a daughter to me.’

  ‘Aw…’ Sophie’s eyes filled with tears and she blinked them away. ‘I am very fond of you too, and I promise I’ll be careful.’ She kissed his cheek and gave him a hug.

  Although she’d miss not living at the villa with Hugo, at least she’d still be able to visit him (wherever he might be). They had become friends rather than employer and employee, and she was so pleased she didn’t have to leave the island, because she knew she’d do nothing but worry about him if she did.

  The wind was up, buffeting her so that her hair whipped about her face in wild tangles. Paco’s ears flapped and his thick fur rippled as the wind caught it. And that was before they’d even left the protection of the villa’s garden walls. It wasn’t cold, although the temperature was a little lower than usual, and she decided against going back and fetching a coat. The sky was still relatively clear, so the likelihood of rain in the next hour or so was minimal. Anyway, she was British – this was nothing but a stiff breeze!

  The sea was impressive, though, and even in the darkness she could see the foam churned up by a mixture of wave and wind action. It had become worse in the short amount of time between taking her coffee onto the terrace and venturing onto the coastal path.

  Movement caught her eye, and she glanced around to see the remnants of Hugo’s banana plants being blown this way and that. A shadow on the track made her pause, and she could have sworn there was a person standing there, some way along it. But when she pulled her hair away from her face, it was gone, so she must have imagined it. No one else would be daft enough to venture out on a night like this, and if anyone else had a mind to walk their dog or go for a jog, then they’d most likely stick to the more sheltered streets of Alcalá or La Arena. She had the path to herself, just how she liked it.

  Paco, lower to the ground and with four paws anchoring him rather than her two slightly unsteady ones (crikey, but that wind really was strong), fared better than she was doing, and seemed to be enjoying himself, lifting his muzzle into the wind and snuffling.

  She had to laugh at him; there was nothing quite so joyous as a happy dog. Even in the dark, she could see his flopping tongue and the ecstatic expression on his face. The headland was calling, and although she had no intention of sitting on her favourite bit of rock, she was determined to make it that far. She had a feeling that the waves hitting the shore there would be spectacular indeed, even at night, when all she could see at the moment was surging blackness and the pale grey of the spray in the distance.

  ‘Wow,’ she muttered, seeing a plume of airborne water surge into the air. It was certainly exhilarating and—

  She halted as Paco let out a low growl, barely audible above the wind blowing in her ears and the mighty boom of the sea. He brushed against her leg, leaning into her slightly, and she turned to face the way they’d come, and peered into the night.

>   ‘What is it, boy?’ she asked, knowing he’d understand her meaning, even if the words themselves were incomprehensible to him.

  He growled again and this time she felt, as well as heard, his warning, as his chest rumbled against her legs. She reached out and stroked his head, feeling his body’s stiffness through his fur. There was no doubt that he was on high alert, and a frisson of unease travelled down her spine.

  Should she turn back and confront whoever (whatever – because her mind was going into overdrive and she was imagining all kinds of things) lurked in the deep shadows? Or should she keep going towards the headland (in the opposite direction to whatever was out there) and hope that Paco was hearing things and would calm down?

  She kept going. After all, it might well be someone as daft as her, braving the wind to walk their dog, and Paco was simply growling at the other pooch. He didn’t usually react much to other dogs, but sometimes one would get his back up for no apparent reason, and he’d let it know in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t welcome and that he wasn’t to be trifled with.

  If the person was a jogger, then they should be near enough for her to see them by now; unless they were really, really slow. That was also assuming it was a person and not some weird creature native to Tenerife that had claws and fangs big enough to make Paco growl…

  It must be a dog walker, she concluded, and began walking along the path once more, Paco keeping pace at her side. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help looking over her shoulder every so often. Once, she was certain she saw a shape moving on the path, but it could just as easily have been a shadow caused by the wind gusting through one of the low scrubby bushes.

  As she drew closer to the headland any thoughts of being followed (stalked? hunted?) vanished from her mind at the sight before her. The waves were enormous, smacking into the rocks with a slow, inevitable majesty, breaking in huge plumes of spray high in the air. The smell of salt and seaweed stung her nose, not unpleasantly, and a fine mist of windborne water coated her from her hair to her trainers. It was thrilling and breathtaking, and more than a little awe-inspiring. Never had she witnessed such raw power in nature, and she felt humbled, her own problems fading into insignificance at the spectacle. The sound of the sea was a continuous roar, filling her ears and her mind until there was no room for anything else. A wild excitement coursed through her, making her heart sing at the sheer beauty of it all. The island had so many faces, and she was thankful that she was able to see this one. No wonder people lost their hearts to it…

  But that wasn’t all she’d lost her heart to, was it, and she remembered sitting almost in this very spot, watching the man she loved (yes, loved, she might as well admit it to herself), be whisked away in a giant tin can thousands of feet above her.

  A deep ache settled in her heart to join the other emotions whirling through it.

  But at least she felt alive, incredibly alive. Gone was the all-consuming numbness of the last few months of her mother’s life, the denial, the soul-crushing grief. Now she felt everything, both good and bad, and she rejoiced in it, even as the sorrow of losing her mum and the pain of loving a man who’d never love her back gouged deep cracks in her heart and soul. She’d survive. Somehow.

  Paco growled, the sound vibrating through the air, and she whirled around, fear pumping adrenaline to her fingers and toes. They tingled and throbbed in response, and she fought the urge to run. Which way should she go? She squinted at the path, wondering where the danger was, but there was nothing obvious.

  Something had certainly spooked Paco, though, because the growls grew louder, more menacing, a clear warning to whoever it was to back off. She was thoroughly scared now, and her fear intensified as the dog took a couple of stiff-legged steps forward, putting himself between her and whoever was out there.

  Slimy Guy’s face sprung into her mind, and she swallowed convulsively. What if it was him? She knew he’d made a threat; she knew it. It hadn’t been her imagination. And now he, or someone sent by him, was making good on it.

  Maybe they just meant to scare her? If so, they were doing a damned good job of it, because she’d never been so frightened in all her life.

  With the angry sea at her back and a person or persons in front who might wish her harm, her only defence was the dog. And although he looked formidable with his raised hackles and alert stance, she wasn’t prepared to risk endangering him. What if they had a knife? Or worse?

  Maybe she could edge around the rocks and double back that way? Right now, she was standing on a relatively flat piece of ground between the path and the rocks proper. But if she crept forward a bit, she could pick her way over the rugged boulders and head for the pebbles which formed the precarious and not very comfortable beach to one side of the villa. It would involve a lot of clambering and would take a great deal of effort, not to mention be rather dangerous, but it was preferable to meeting whoever was waiting for her on the path.

  Paco made her mind up for her. Abruptly his growls turned to outright snarls, and the fine hairs at the back of her neck rose in response. The snarling turned into fierce barking, and she caught a glimpse of gleaming fangs and the whites of the dog’s eyes. He meant business.

  ‘Come, boy,’ she said quietly, ‘let’s go.’

  The dog looked at her, wagged his tail once, then turned back to face the threat.

  ‘Paco!’ she hissed. There was no way on earth she was going to leave him here while she fled to safety. This was nothing to do with him; he was an innocent animal, doing his best to protect her, and she’d never forgive herself if anything happened to him.

  The sooner she got him away from here the better, and the villa was their only real hope. She briefly debated trying to reach Luis’s house, but there wasn’t a single light on. Besides, the person or persons unknown were between her and the farmhouse, and she doubted she’d be able to make it in time.

  The villa it would have to be. And the only way to reach it was to clamber over the rocks, risking a broken ankle and a drenching. The soaking was a sure thing. As for the ankle, she’d just have to be really, really careful.

  ‘Paco, ven aca, come here,’ she commanded, and moved closer to the rocks and the spuming, frothing sea.

  To her relief, the dog ceased barking and followed, still growling his warning, hackles still raised, his movements stiff and threatening. But at least he was going with her and not staying to see off the danger. She put a hand on his fluffy head, and he stopped growling long enough to nudge her with his nose. ‘It’s going to be OK, boy,’ she muttered. ‘Everything’s going to be OK. Argh!’

  A wave broke, larger than most, spray rising high into the air and falling back down, drenching her in the process. She spluttered as seawater cascaded over her face, making her eyes sting. Blimmin’ heck, that was cold!

  Using her hands to grip the rocks as she scrambled over them, and wincing at the scrape of her skin against them, she picked her way slowly and carefully closer to the water. Paco whined uneasily, hanging back.

  ‘Come on, boy, it’s OK. See?’ She straightened and turned to him, and—

  The wave was colossal and as it slammed into the shore, a wall of water shot skywards and cascaded down on her. Instinctively she grabbed for a handhold, her fingers grasping a sharp, jagged boulder. Her skin tore, and she jerked her hand back with a cry of pain, and lost her grip.

  Unbalanced, she felt the wave pick her up and drag her back, pulling her into the boiling, churning sea.

  Letting out a scream of terror, she took one last desperate breath before her head was underwater and the sea claimed her.

  Chapter 34

  Her mind was screaming but her mouth was firmly shut, as she desperately held that one final breath inside and fought to reach the surface. Not knowing which way was up, the water turning her over and over, she struck out, her arms flailing, her legs kicking frantically.

  She didn’t know how much longer she could hold out. Her lungs were burning with an agony greater than
she’d ever known, and the need to breathe was overwhelming. Just another second, she pleaded. Please, just another second and I’ll—

  Something grabbed the collar of her jacket and she felt herself being dragged through the water. Terrified, she thrashed wildly, bubbles streaming from her mouth as she lost the last bit of precious air, then her head broke the surface and she sucked in a huge lungful, spluttering and coughing. Her head went under again, but she kicked with all her might, the pressure on her collar tightening, pulling her back up.

  Something struck her on the back, once, twice, three times, and she had the impression she was being towed…

  Paco! It was Paco who had hold of her, his jaws on her collar, his sturdy webbed paws powering rhythmically through the roiling surf. She twisted in his grasp, the better to keep her face from being submerged, and she heard his laboured breathing, loud and harsh in her ear.

  In the darkness she was unable to tell if he was winning the fight, but she spluttered another snatched breath and swam with him, using her arms and legs to help him drive through the waves, until exhaustion claimed her and she just hung there, her only thought being to keep her head above water.

  Once, faintly, she thought she heard someone shout her name, but it might have been the wind or the sea calling to her, urging her to let go, to cease her fruitless struggle and let peace claim her. She was so tired, so desperately, utterly tired…

  Paco whuffed through his nose, his breath hot on her neck, and one of his claws raked her back, the pain jolting her out of her stupor. If she didn’t try to help the dog again then both of them would surely die. And there was no way she was prepared to let Paco drown.

  A fresh surge of energy filled her, and with one final desperate lunge, she struck out in the direction Paco was heading.

  Pebbles shifted beneath her, and sharp rocks battered her feet as she kicked.