For whatever reason, I believed him. “Protect me? From what, having a boyfriend?”
“From having the wrong boyfriend. This world is a cruel, hard place. And I’ve made a lot of enemies. I didn’t want someone using you to get to me. And, besides, any man who would take money to stop seeing you, even if they weren’t part of a larger scheme, is not a person you want in your life.”
Damn. As much as I didn’t appreciate his methods, I couldn’t argue with that conclusion, or his intent. Or the underlying reasons.
“Now, can I ask you something?”
He was actually getting my permission to ask me something? I felt like I had walked into the Twilight Zone or some sort of alternate universe.
“Yes.” I nodded, still reeling from my entire world shifting in the past sixty seconds.
“What is it going to take for you to rescind your resignation? What do you want?”
I knew what I wanted, I just wasn’t sure if I was too late to get it.
CHAPTER 41
Jimmy
“Thanks, folks. Enjoy the rest of your day.” I waved at the group of tourists I’d taken out for the sunrise cruise as they walked up the dock.
I didn’t have another tour scheduled until sunset. All I wanted to do was go home and sleep, but I knew that wasn’t the healthiest thing for me to do. So, instead, I’d take Sherlock for a walk on the beach, just like I had yesterday and the day before.
Six days. That’s how long it had been since Bella’d left. I never knew six days could feel like six months or six years. Every day had been a marathon to get through. But I was doing it because there was no way I was going to end up like my old man. Life still needed to be lived even if all I wanted to do was go to bed and pull the covers over my head.
Out of habit, I checked my phone. She’d given a thumbs up to the message I’d sent her a few hours earlier telling her good morning, but she hadn’t actually responded.
It had been like that all week. She’d respond to my text but in the vaguest way. I’d ask how she was; she’d say fine. I’d ask if we could talk on the phone, she’d say yes but when I asked her for a time, she’d say she would call me.
Every time I’d called her, she’d let it go to voicemail.
I still wasn’t sure what exactly I’d done wrong. My guess was that I’d come on too strong. Dropping the big ‘I love you’ and talking about walking down the aisle was probably a case of too much, too soon.
But in my defense, I was being honest. I’d never felt for any person the way I felt about Bella, so I didn’t have a lot of experience navigating the choppy waters of love.
Even without that experience, I was sure of one thing—in the short time I’d known her, she’d become everything. And now she was gone. I had no idea if or when she was coming back. I had no idea if or when I’d be able to speak to her. I had no idea if or when I’d get over her.
So really, there was nothing else to do but get on with life. With a sigh, I started going through my maintenance checklist. I was about to step down to go below to the engine compartment when I stopped and the memory of finding her earring hit me like a Mack truck. It was only a couple of weeks ago, but it felt like a lifetime. And I guess in some ways, it was.
The time of my life when I didn’t know what it felt like to love someone was over. This was a new time in my life, one where I knew what someone being everything to me felt like. And so far, I couldn’t really say I was a fan.
I liked things to be easy. I didn’t really enjoy high highs or low lows, and that’s all there’d been with Bella. I was either on top of the world or in hell. There didn’t seem to be a lot of middle ground.
I just wished the top of the world part would’ve lasted longer.
“Are you Jimmy?”
For a split second, I thought that I had to be imagining things, but then I turned my head and she was there. Bella was on the dock, her red hair blowing in the breeze, and she had never looked more beautiful. She was wearing a floral summer dress that hit her mid-thigh, showcasing her tanned, toned legs. The delicate spaghetti straps rested on her perfect, sun-kissed shoulders and the neckline was low enough to give a hint at the perfect breasts that lay beneath the cotton.
“Bella,” I spoke her name with a reverence I’d only ever used for food and Sherlock.
She grinned. “The harbormaster mentioned you hire out your boat.”
A smile pulled on my lips when I realized that she was repeating verbatim what we’d said the first time we met. I’d been so flabbergasted by her beauty the first time we had this exchange, and I was even more so now. I had no clue if I’d remember what we’d said. But I’d do my best to play along.
“He’s not lyin’.”
Her smile widened when she saw that I’d caught on. “I’d like to go out, please. Now, if you’re not otherwise engaged.”
I hissed through my teeth and glanced at my watch. “I can do a three-hour tour.”
“Like Gilligan.”
“Yep,” I stepped down off the boat, needing to be closer to her. When I stood in front of her, I brushed a stray strand of hair off her cheek and smoothed it back behind her ear. Her eyes closed as my fingertips brushed across her silky-smooth skin. It was clear to me that she’d missed me, or at least my touch almost as much as I’d missed her. “And I guess that would make you the movie star.”
“I’m more of a Mary Ann,” she said breathlessly.
“Bullshit.” This time I spoke my observation out loud. “You’re definitely a movie star.”
The blush that I’d missed putting on her cheeks returned, and she dipped her head. When she looked back up her eyes were open, and her smile was back but this time it looked to be more intimate and less nervous.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“Hi,” I replied. I wanted to lean down and press my lips to hers, to kiss her until she forgot that anyone or anything else existed, but I forced myself to keep my distance.
This was her show. I’d already fucked things up by telling her that I loved her and that I wanted to marry her. I needed to see where her head was at before I said or did something that might scare her off.
She closed her eyes once more and tilted her head, so her cheek rested in my hand. “I missed you.”
Hearing her say those words, feeling the warmth of her skin against my palm as I cradled her face caused my heart to expand to the point that I was sure it was going to burst out of my chest.
“I missed you, too.” My voice was low and raspy, constricted by the emotions clogging my throat.
When she opened her eyes again, they gazed up at me with the same look of innocence and adventure that had stolen my breath away the first time I’d seen it. It had the same effect now. “I was wondering if you could help me cross something off my list.”
“Yes.” I agreed. Whatever it was, I would do it.
The corners of her lips twitched before they lifted in a wide smile. “You don’t even know what it is.”
“It doesn’t matter. I want to do everything and nothing with you, remember?”
She nodded as she pulled out the paper and pointed to number seven, which was fall in love. “Since I’ve already done this, I was wondering if I could check this off too.” She pointed to number one, which was get a boyfriend.
My mind was still stuck on number seven. She fell in love with me. She was in love with me. “You love me?” I asked, needing confirmation.
“Yes. I love you.”
I took the pen and paper from her hand. “We can check off number one if we can also check this off the list someday. Soon.”
“Are you negotiating?” she giggled.
“Yes.” I finished writing and handed it back to her.
She looked down at it and then back up at me then back down at it. I’d written 192. Get Married.
When her eyes met mine again, I felt the love that she’d professed shining up at me. “I agree to your terms.”
Now I knew for sure my hea
rt was going to burst through my chest. I cupped her face in my palms and lowered my head, claiming her in a kiss that sealed our agreement.
“You two need to get a room!” Earl called out from his boat, The Dirty Oar.
Bella blushed as I broke the kiss. And I knew in that moment, I planned on putting that blush on her face every day for the rest of our lives.
EPILOGUE
Isabella
ONE MONTH LATER
“I can’t believe I have to wear this fucking thing!” Jimmy shouted from behind the changing room curtain at Firefly Menswear.
I shook my head. “It’s one day, and only a few hours.”
For as easygoing as Jimmy was about everything in his life, it actually surprised me what a fuss he was putting up because he had to wear a tux for Billy and Reagan’s wedding.
“It’s so uncomfortable. The pants are riding so far up my ass they know what I had for breakfast.”
My head fell back with a sigh.
“It’s one day, and only a few hours,” I repeated for the umpteenth time.
The wedding was less than a month away, but at this rate I was thinking about making a voice recording of myself saying, “It’s one day, and only a few hours,” because if I didn’t, there was a good chance I wouldn’t have a voice left come the day.
“How are we doing back here?” The owner of the store, Gregory Neil, asked with a grimace, as if he already knew the answer.
“I think there may need to be some alterations done.” I smiled.
“Got it.” Mr. Neil joined Jimmy in the dressing room, and I took that opportunity to get some much earned fresh air.
I’d been at the clothing store with Jimmy for nearly an hour and I needed a break.
I walked out onto the main street toward the beach and looked out over the view, taking in the blue water, the rolling waves, the white caps on those waves before they crashed onto the sandy beach. Tourists and locals buzzing around.
It was still hard for me to accept that this was my life. That I lived in paradise, with the man that I loved, who for some reason loved me back. His family had accepted me with open arms. I had friends that I met for coffee, and who went to early morning workout classes with me even though they thought it was ridiculous.
And I was still able to work in the only part of the business that had ever excited me, which was research and development. I’d been shocked when my father agreed to all my terms in order to get me to stay with Santini Industries. I worked remotely, and was able to cherry-pick my team.
But even more surprising than that was how my relationship with my father had changed in the past month. It wasn’t like we were best friends or anything, but he called once a week and asked how I was doing. He’d already been down to Firefly Island once and he planned on returning next month.
When he was here, he’d taken me and Jimmy out to dinner. Jimmy had been worried that he would have to smooth things over with him, but my father actually respected Jimmy for saying what he had.
And things with Jimmy were…
Every day I looked at him and thought, There is no way I could love him any more than I do right now. And then the next day, I woke up and I did. I couldn’t imagine what I would feel for him in a year, in two years, in ten, if things kept going like they were.
It all seemed too good to be true and if I were sleeping, I just prayed no one pinched me to wake me up.
“Ms. Isabella Santini?”
I turned at the sound of my name and saw a man dressed in slacks, a crisp white button-down shirt and Italian loafers.
“Yes, that’s me.”
Without saying another word, he handed me an envelope, turned and walked away.
If this was some sort of a summons, or legal action being taken against me, I was fairly certain that he should have said, “You’ve been served.”
I’d always seen it in movies, and I felt like I’d gotten robbed of that moment.
When I opened the manila envelope and took out the paperwork inside I was confused. The logo at the top of the letterhead was Behind Closed Doors, the P.I. firm that my father used.
When I’d contacted Dominic Charles, he’d declined the case. He hadn’t specified his reason, but I’d assumed it was because he didn’t want to do something behind my father’s back that might jeopardize his working relationship with Santini Industries.
I’d hired another firm, but so far everything they had uncovered had been dead ends. We weren’t any closer to finding out who Cheyenne’s biological father was, or what actually happened the night of the crash. It didn’t help that so many years had passed.
My eyes scanned the letter.
Dear Ms. Santini,
At the request of Mr. Miles Santini, I am sending you my findings on the death of Sabrina Comfort. Enclosed you will find a detailed report and all pertinent documentation. Please contact me if you have any questions or concerns.
As I started flipping through the stack of papers, I saw that there was a copy of the police report, but a lot of the information was missing or redacted. Then there were invoices from an auto repair shop. There were other miscellaneous witness statements and a variety of other receipts and call records.
It took me a few passes through the information to get a handle on how it all linked up. I was just piecing it together when Jimmy came out of the shop.
Without saying a word, he stepped up to me and kissed me, hard, before asking, “What’s that?”
I loved the PDA he showered on me. Considering my social awkwardness, I never would have guessed that would be something I enjoyed, but it was. He made me feel like I was the only woman—or person, for that matter—on the planet.
“Um, it’s from that private investigator I told you about. From California.”
A crease formed between Jimmy’s eyebrows. “I thought he turned down the case.”
I handed the stack of papers to Jimmy. “He did, but apparently my father hired him.”
“So, what did he find out?” he asked as he scanned the letter.
“It’s a lot to go through…but it looks like he’s identified the tow truck driver that was first on the scene after your mom’s accident. And also, the mechanic at the auto shop it was towed to.”
“What did they say?”
“The tow truck driver passed away five years ago, so not much there. But the mechanic, Jerry Samson, is alive and well and living in Alaska.”
“Alaska?” Jimmy repeated.
I nodded.
“What does he have to say?” Jimmy asked as he flipped through the paperwork.
“Nothing. He said he’ll only speak to James Comfort—”
Jimmy’s eyes shot up to mine as he cut me off. “But Pop’s dead.”
“Or his oldest son, Hank.” I finished.
“Hank?” Jimmy’s brows lifted causing two wrinkles to appear on his forehead.
I nodded.
“Shit.” Jimmy and I stared at one another, each processing the information. “Well, looks like we better call a family meeting, which means we need food. You send out the Bat-Signal, I’ll call in a takeout order.” He kissed me on the forehead and then took out his phone.
As I typed the text calling the meeting, I couldn’t help but feel grateful to be part of such an amazing family. And grateful to be loved by a man that I wanted to do everything and nothing with for the rest of my life.
THE END
Coming Soon
Don’t miss Hank Comfort’s book
Between the Sheets
Coming November 2020
Excerpt: My First
Crossroads Book 1
CHAPTER 1
Welcome home, Katie thought, sardonically, as she sat with her eyes closed, in her rental car on the side of Highway 90. She held a paper bag pressed tightly against her mouth with one hand, a picture in her other hand, and a mantra running through her brain on repeat.
You can breathe. Just breathe. Breathe in and out slowly. You can breathe.
>
Katie had been back in Illinois for less than an hour and here she was, smack dab in the middle of her first panic attack in years. Concentrating on the feeling of her thumb running across the smooth cool surface of the photo, she tried to soothe her racing heart, to anchor herself to reality. Her tongue was tingling as she forced the rapid movements of her chest to be slow and deliberate.
This seems to be working, albeit slowly, she assured herself.
When the overpriced therapist, who taught her the breathing exercise and mantra, had laid out his plan of connecting to an object or smell that calmed her, Katie wanted to roll her eyes. She wanted to tell him that he clearly had no flipping idea what a panic attack really felt like if he thought that repeating a little magic spell in her mind, while spraying a calming scent, was going to have any effect at all. She wanted to tell him that panic attacks didn’t feel like nervousness or butterflies you could just calm with the power of your mind. They felt like you were having a heart attack, like you were dying. Seriously, had anyone ever heard of someone having a heart attack and curing it by simply telling themselves to breathe while holding a knick-knack or sniffing some aromatherapy scent that miraculously calmed them?
Of course, Katie never said any of those things. She had just smiled politely and kept her judgment of his professional aptitude (i.e., that he was a total quack) entirely to herself. Then, like the good student she was, she went home and practiced with the bag and tried spraying a few scents, but found they never made her feel any sense of calm and happiness, like holding the picture she’d had since sixth grade did.
After that visit, the panic attacks stopped and so she never had the opportunity to test out the technique and prove his quackitude with rock-solid evidence. Now that she was in the middle of one, and the exercises actually seemed to be working…
Well, I’ll move his status down to ‘Jury’s Still Out on the Level of His Quackosity’ but I’m not nominating him for the Nobel Prize just yet, Katie thought. Of course, this wasn’t even close to a bad attack. This one was fairly mild.
Sex on the Beach (Southern Comfort Book 2) Page 24
