by S. R. Jones
**
My head hurts, and I lift it from the pillow to look at my watch beside the bed. I can see light beyond the blinds, and I wonder what time it is. I’m shocked to hell to see it’s eight-thirty, and I have slept right through, no toilet trips or anything. I can’t remember the last time I slept so well.
After heading through Reece’s empty room, I take a detour to the bathroom for an urgent pee, my bladder so full it’s painful. Then I meander down the stairs, taking my time to look at some of the modern artwork and photographs lining the walls of the stairway.
The scent of bacon hits my nose, and I remember we had a few rashers left. I’d decided not to use it in the pasta so we had something in for breakfast. I reach the bottom stair and turn right to face Reece at the stove. He’s got thick slices of bread buttered, and he’s pulling bacon out of the grill.
He turns to me. “Morning sleepyhead.”
His hair is down, and he’s only wearing pajama bottoms, and I swear, I lose control of my legs. I stop and can only stare.
Oh, my word, he’s stunning. His body is a work of art. I’ve never seen anything like it. Hard and big, and his skin is all golden and yummy. He’s covered in gorgeous tattoos too, colorful and different.
I wish I’d bothered to brush my hair or put a slick of lip gloss on or something. I must look a fright. I think I’m boring at the best of times. This morning, in my knee length night dress and no make-up, I bet I’m downright unattractive.
Oh, who am I kidding. I’m well past my sexual prime, a woman in her forties isn’t going to be lighting the fires of anyone, least of all this mountain of a man in front of me. I snap out of my daze and plaster a smile on my face.
“You made breakfast. I’m pretty sure the job description doesn’t include cooking.”
“Well, you didn’t surface, and so I figured I’d make us some food and hope the smell tempted you out of your lair.” He’s teasing because his eyes are dancing with amusement. “I think someone lied when they said they were an early bird.”
“I normally am. To be honest, I normally don’t sleep, but last night I slept like a log. I think it was all the carbs and the wine. Knocked me out.”
We eat quickly and discuss our day. We both decide beach first, shop later is the better plan. It’s a glorious morning and you never know in Britain when the weather might change.
After me rinsing the pots and Reece sticking them in the dishwasher, we both go and get ourselves ready for a trip to the beach. I come down wearing my swimsuit with denim shorts and a t-shirt over the top. Birkenstocks are on my feet, a book in my bag, sunglasses perched on my head, and some sunscreen. Plus a bottle of water and a couple of high protein, low carb snack bars. I think Reece will appreciate one of those if he gets peckish.
I’m standing by the door when Reece slaps down the stairs in sandals, board shorts, and nothing else. I manage not to stare this time, after already seeing him in his shirtless glory this morning, but good God, the man is fine.
My muse is all fired up and ready to write those love scenes. Trouble is, she wants the dour, dark haired PI to suddenly morph into a bronzed, leonine god. Not going to happen.
We cross the road after Reece locks up, both our shoes schlepping together in time. He’s a lot taller than me. Most guys I’ve dated in the past have been a couple of inches taller or so, not Reece. He towers over me, and I like it. I can imagine him dominating me with his big body, and I suppress a shiver. I used to like being dominated somewhat, liked it a bit rough, too. Since the freak found me and started writing to me, it’s felt kind of wrong to have those desires, so I locked them away, along with my libido.
I snap out of my thoughts and look around me. There are no cars on the road, and only four people that I can see on the beach. A couple are walking their dog, a single man is also walking a dog, and a woman lies on the beach, on her front, a big floppy sun hat hiding her face.
Unless my stalker has a dog he takes with him for cover, I think we’re clear.
I glance at Reece to catch him giving the beach a calculating sweep, and he seems to be okay with what he sees as he gives a small, almost imperceptible nod to himself.
We head over some rocky shingles, to an area that is mostly sand, and I put down two large beach towels. Reece lies on the one on the right and I take the one on the left. For a moment, I’m a tad self-conscious, wondering if I ought to make conversation, but wanting to read my book and relax for a while. He reaches into the pocket of his shorts and takes out his phone, swipes the screen once, and then taps the Kindle symbol. I let out a breath, and take my book out of my bag, secure I can read without seeming rude.
After thirty minutes or so of reading, I’m starting to feel a bit hot. There’s a nice breeze and the weather rarely gets overly warm on the West coast, but I didn’t apply any sun lotion and I don’t want to burn. I decide to take a quick dip in the sea, and then I’ll slap some sunscreen on.
I stand, and Reece looks up at me, large hand shading his face. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I thought I’d go for a swim.”
“Okay.” He stands too, and I frown.
“You don’t have to join me. You can see me easily from here, and there’s hardly anyone on the beach.”
“No.” He laughs. “I wasn’t following you for that reason, I fancy a dip myself.”
“Ah. Right.” I feel a bit silly, but he nudges my side as we head down to the water and gives a low chuckle and just like that, my embarrassment flees.
The moment we reach the waters edge, I pause. I love this. The sea, being able to swim. Hell, I love even a paddle. The ocean simply makes me feel free in the way no other element of nature can. I breathe in the salty, tangy air, and smile as I turn my face up to the sun, letting the soft waves lap at my toes.
“Wow. It’s cold.”
He nods with a grin. “Yep. It’ll be freezing. Not had the full summer to warm up. Do you know, the waters off the coast of Wales are the hottest in October?”
“Bloody hell!” I turn to the sea and frown. “The water might be, but the air then will be frigid. No thanks.”
“Ah, you wuss.” He starts to wade in. “You okay if I have a bit of a swim? I’ll make sure to keep you in sight.”
“Of course. Do your thing.”
He takes a handful of large strides forward and then plunges into the waves. As he swims away from me, I admire his perfect form. The man is clearly fit. He powers through the water like an Olympic swimmer. For my part, I take it much more slowly. I wade out and by the time it gets to my waist, I can barely breathe, so decide the only thing for it is either to chicken out, or take the plunge. I decide on the latter and give a gasp as I lie down and start to swim.
Holy shit, it’s cold. Soon though, I grow used to the temperature and turn onto my back, floating lazily as I look up at the azure sky. It’s a stunner of a day, and I’m relaxed for the first time in ages. Usually, I hold so much tension in my body I suffer from it physically. Sore neck, migraines, and tension headaches, back ache. I even get this annoying twitch in my eye some days when I’ve had hardly any sleep, and the nightmares have plagued me.
Today though, I might be a different woman. A free woman without a care in the world. How I long for the good old days when I used to get stressed over a parking fine, or a bad substitution in my online shopping. How innocent and naïve I was in the truest sense.
I had no idea what kind of darkness this world held. Despite being a court reporter, and sometimes having to note truly awful crimes, I still saw the good in people. I still believed people made mistakes and did terrible things, but that true evil was a rarity. Of course, we had some awful cases, but the majority were small scale things. A fight. A minor assault due to too much drink. Yes, they were unpleasant events, but not to the level where I thought those involved were truly evil.
Then evil came calling, up close and personal. Once my stalker found me, and wrecked my life, I made a new one. I moved away from family a
nd friends. Got a PO Box so they could write, and a Pay As You Go phone that I paid cash for and wasn’t registered to any address. I stayed in touch that way.
On rare occasions, I’d go back home for a visit, but always unannounced so that no one knew I was coming, and I’d only stay for a night, two tops. I didn’t go out. I’d see my parents, sometimes my sister, and my best friend. I didn’t dare contact anyone else. And I was always a paranoid wreck when I left to head back to my hidey hole in Scotland. Always aware I might be bringing someone else with me, something else. The dark presence that had blighted my life.
It never happened though. I began to relax, about the threat from my nemesis at least, but since he’d cost me my job when I moved away, I had to find a way to make ends meet. I began to write crime thrillers, putting my past work to good use. It wasn’t enough knowledge though as the series developed, and so I reached out to a few people who worked as lawyers, prosecutors mostly, and a few detectives. I used a male pen name, and went through my publishing company to make my enquiries more legit, and then I found out that real depravity was far more common than my work in a small, local court would lead one to believe. The cases I learned of made my stomach turn.
I began to see danger everywhere, and the more I wrote, the worse it got.
And then he found me again.
Not wanting to dwell on these thoughts anymore, I turn onto my front and swim toward shore. I’m suddenly desperate for the warmth again, for the sun on my skin, burning the fear away. As I reach the shallows, I put my legs down and scrabble for a moment as I try to find my footing, and then I’m on solid ground, wading through the water.
Nearing the edge of the ocean, I cry out as sharp pain pierces the soft fleshy sole of my foot. “Jesus!”
I stop and awkwardly balance on one foot as I try to see what has happened. I can’t though, and I risk falling over, so I try to put my foot down, but once again pain spears through me. I take two steps forward, balancing on my tippy-toes on the injured foot.
A warm weight grabs me around my middle, and I find myself leaning against something as solid as a tree. I look to my right, and Reece has his arm around me, tucking me in to his side.
“What happened?” he rumbles, his deep voice vibrating through me.
“I don’t know. I wonder if I stood on a sharp stone or a shell or something? Cut my foot.”
We get to where the tiny waves break on the shoreline and I hop up the sand, holding onto Reece for support. Once we reach the towels, I sit down with his help and turn my foot up to look.
“Oh, God.” The world tilts for a moment as I stare at my foot.
A huge shard of glass is stuck in my sole, blood streaming out of it.
“Shit.” Reece bends down and gently lifts my foot, taking a closer look. “Fuck, this looks bad.”
“How bad?”
“Hospital bad.”
“Oh, no. I’ll have to give my name.”
He knows exactly what that means. We’ve gotten ourselves some breathing space, and now I will have to go to a busy place, give my name, the place we are staying, it will be on their records.
“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I know some first aid, but Ethan and Luka both know a lot more than me. We’ll get you back home and Facetime them, see if we can get hold of either of them. If we can, then we can ask them if this is fixable at home. There’s a decent First Aid Kit in the house, I saw it last night when I was checking the place out. If they say you need a hospital though, we’ll have to risk it. Sound like a plan?”
I nod at him and am determined not to cry. It hurts, bad, but I’m a big girl, and I suck it up. Reece starts gathering everything up and putting it in the bags, including my sandals. Last, he pulls me to my feet, once more tucking me into his side as he rolls the towels up and shoves them into the bag I brought with me. He slings my hot pink, girly bag over his shoulder without a care in the world. I prepare myself to hop back to the house, leaning on him, when my feet leave the ground.
The world spins around me and I find myself hoisted in his arms. Instinctively, I wrap my hands around his neck, holding on. For a moment, time slows as I stare into his green eyes with their hint of something bluer and cooler. Then he’s all business, striding across the sand, heading for the road and our rental home beyond it.
He’s so strong. So strong, and despite my inner feminist raging against it, I love his physical prowess. Love giving in to someone else taking the lead. I’ve always been the one to have to get stuff done. Maybe it’s why I used to like being a bit dominated. Nothing full on, no BDSM clubs for me, but just a bit. It gave me a break from having to organize everyone.
Mum and Dad are lovely, gorgeous people, but they’re both utterly useless with money and anything practical. As a result, from being a teenager, I helped them muddle through, all too aware that we were always on the verge of losing the car, or having our utilities cut off. My sister, bless her, inherited their free-spirited ways, and she’s a bohemian beauty, but utterly incapable of surviving in the modern world. So, I helped them out regularly until I had to leave, and then I used my newfound wealth as soon as my books became a success to help them out some more.
Right now, my sister is doing a yoga retreat in India, and Mum and Dad are pony trekking in Mongolia. Yep, they are living their dream, and I’m hiding away, scared and alone. Not that I blame them for one second. They can’t do anything. My sis offered to come live with me when I left, but I didn’t want anyone else put in danger, and anyone familiar around me only made it more likely I’d be found. Although, of course, in the end, it was a fan who turned the screws on me and put me in mortal danger.
We reach the house, and Reece rummages around in the bag, pulling the keys out. He’d tossed them and his phone in there before heading into the sea.
With me still in his arms, he manages to open the door, and then carries me over the threshold. He still doesn’t put me down until we reach the huge leather sofa, then he gently deposits me on it.
“Stay,” he orders, as if I’m a dog. Then he’s gone.
A few minutes later, he returns with a glass of water for me, the First Aid Kit, which he places on the floor, and his iPad tucked under his arm.
“Right, let’s try Ethan first. It’s a better bet he’ll be in as I’m sure he wasn’t on the roster to work for the next two days.”
He opens the iPad, props it up in its case, and dials someone up on Facetime. After a long while of nothing but it ringing, he leans forward, finger extended, about to turn it off, when the screen pops up and a rugged male face appears.
The man frowns, and then grunts out a…”what?”
No, ‘hello’, or ‘how are you’. What a surly individual.
“Good day to you, too, sunshine,” Reece says. “I’ve been to the beach with Kate and she’s hurt herself. Stood on a big bit of glass in the ocean. Unfortunately, it hasn’t been worn down yet and it’s sharp…and in her foot. I’m not sure if we need the hospital or not, but I’d rather avoid it if we can.”
“Show me,” Mr. Sunshine demands.
Reece picks up my foot, as soft and gentle as if it were a new-born’s and holds it out to the camera on the tablet.
“Shit. Looks a bit gnarly to me. What have you got there, medical kit wise?”
Reece opens the first aid kit. “Lots of stuff. Painkillers. Gauze. Antiseptic cream, and antibiotic ointment. Antiseptic wash. Cotton pads. Plasters. Bandages.”
“Okay. Right, first things first, without touching the glass, irrigate the wound as best you can with the antiseptic wash. Is it a spray?”
Reece reads the bottle and nods. “Yep.”
He twists my foot and bends his head before spraying around the glass. I wince as the wash hits the wound, but it isn’t too painful.
“Okay,” Ethan says. “Now, you’re going to have to take the glass out. Good news is, it’s a big enough piece not to need messing around with tweezers. Bad news is, it’s a big piece. It may bleed
a bit, or depending on the depth of the wound, need stitches. You’ll need to take it out and let me see.”
“Okay, baby, this will hurt.” Reece looks at me and gives me a smile, but all I can focus on is that he called me baby. And I liked it. A whole lot.
The way his deep, rich voice curled around the affectionate nickname. I tell myself it means nothing. He’s simply one of those guys who addresses women in such a way, but a part of me—small, lost, and so desperately in need of connection, wants it to be more.
The way he held me in his big arms as he carried me back from the beach had me melting. I’m a focused, organized, grown-up, forty-something professional. I don’t melt. Reece though, he’s got this vibe that’s too delicious for words. He’s all big, and hard, and yet he’s not like his friend here on the screen. He’s not hard in that way. His face is soft in repose, friendly. He’s seemingly laidback and easygoing. He reminds me of some big, happy dog everyone wants to be friends with, but who will rip your heart out if you threaten his owner.
I realize comparing him to a dog may not be the most flattering thing and smile to myself.
“I’m about to rip glass out of your foot, and you’re smiling.” Reece shakes his head, but his own mouth curls upwards.
For a moment, we simply smile at one another like two idiots. Maybe he’s feeling some attraction too?
“Come on, chop-chop. Time’s a wasting.” Ethan huffs from the screen, and I decide I officially don’t like him.
“What’s going on?” A soft female voice joins Ethan’s, and then a stunningly beautiful young woman pops up on the screen next to Ethan’s dark head.
Holy hell! Is she his wife? She’s gorgeous. And just like that all my silly, immature thoughts about anything happening with Reece pop and vanish. A burst balloon at a birthday party, they deflate until they look sad and dejected.
I’m such an idiot. As if a man like him would ever look the way of a woman like me. His friend is good looking, but not as astonishing looking as Reece and his wife is drop-dead gorgeous. And young! So young. I think there must be a big age difference between them. I tell myself I need to force down any stupid ideas of a connection with Reece and simply enjoy having his gorgeousness around for a while.
