Find Me, Keep Me: A Let Me Go Novel (A Let Me Go series Book 3)

by L. L. Akers

  “I didn’t get to talk to him. I was... interrupted...and came home...and please, don’t lecture. It wasn’t a good outing, and I still have a bit of a headache.”

  She didn’t want to talk about what happened in front of the Ice Cream Shoppe. The last thing she needed was for Gabby and Emma to try to hunt the kid down...and they would—or Jake and Dusty would.

  Best to change the subject.

  “I’m starved. How about I cook that Low Country Boil for everybody tonight? We can cook it out on a fire on the beach. Emma, while you’re in there, look for a really deep pot! And I’ll need some newspaper or brown wrapping paper to dump it on, and—”

  “—Whatever, Olivia. Stop changing the subject. I know you don’t want to talk about the Invisible Man. And I think both you and Grayson need to stick with us from now on. He had a bad outing, too. Dusty’s up in the crofter talking to him right now. The island’s version of Barney Fife on a golf cart was here talking to Grayson when we walked up and he nearly got arrested.”

  “Wait...what? For what?”

  “Sounds like he’s grumpy with more than just you, big sister. Now you don’t have to take it so personal,” Emma called out from the kitchen, followed by the loud clanking of pots and pans clashing. “And I found a big pot.”

  Gabby shook her head. “Apparently, some guy said Grayson assaulted him. I heard Grayson explain that the kid was drunk and had inappropriately laid his hands on a woman. Then Dusty spoke up for Grayson and they all walked away from us for a little powwow. I didn’t hear the rest, but the cop left empty-handed, so I guess it might’ve helped that Grayson’s little brother is a law enforcement officer.”

  Olivia’s eyes widened. “He hit him?”

  Gabby shrugged. “I don’t know. The cop said assault. Whatever that means. But he doesn’t look like he’s been in a fight. He looks... pretty good actually.” She waggled her eyebrows at Olivia.

  “Stop.”

  Gabby laughed at her and ran up the stairs. “I’m next for a shower!”

  Olivia sat still thinking of what she’d said to Grayson after ‘the incident.’ Had she said anything? She couldn’t remember. It had all happened so fast, and she’d been so upset. Why would he have stood up for her? Most of the time he acted like he couldn’t stand her, or was irritated by her.

  Although she didn’t condone violence, she couldn’t help but smile a little that Grayson had defended her. Her shoulders straightened and her chest puffed up a little.

  Maybe he wasn’t such a jerk after all.

  22

  Grayson watched them gather around the fire on the beach from his perch in the crofter.

  Dusty and Jake had stacked some wood, lit a fire, and placed a free-standing cooking rack over it.

  Now Olivia was flitting around the fire—reminding him of the scarlet-red dragonfly on her shoulder—first tending to it, coaxing more flames from the sparks, and then moving a few feet over and setting up a small table, covering it with a vibrant red-checked tablecloth.

  The wind blew in and tore it off. It flew straight up and Olivia jumped and stretched to reach it.

  Nice view.

  He smiled as he watched her slam it back onto the table and lay her hands atop it. The wind picked up again, spinning her hair in a wild mess around her head and kicking up sand. She held on.

  Just let it go, woman. Who needs a silly tablecloth?

  Emma stepped in to help, just before the wind died down again to connect some clips, fastening the cloth to the table legs.

  Olivia unrolled plain brown paper onto the table, and then carefully arranged bowls, utensils and napkins. She went back to the fire, stirring the pot and adding spices. She appeared to be really enjoying herself.

  All that and can cook, too.

  He focused in on Jake and Dusty. They were working mostly by the light of the moon, whittling the end of a pair of long, thin sticks.

  Probably going to roast some marshmallows later.

  His stomach growled. He loved roasting marshmallows.

  He paced around the crofter, feeling claustrophobic. Maybe he should go into the house. It was empty. He could make a sandwich and sit down in front of the TV. Have it all to himself.

  He shook that thought off. He had no desire to watch TV. Or be by himself in that big house.

  I’ll just read a book.

  He opened his messenger-bag and pulled out “The Martian,” by Andy Weir. He didn’t much like the format—almost like a diary—but he was really liking the scientific stuff he was learning. Hell, who knew...it might come in handy if the shit ever hit the fan, and he needed to make something from nothing.

  He read for over half an hour and realized he had no idea what he’d just read. He threw the book down on the bed and walked back to the window, taking another peek at the beach.

  He watched Olivia good-naturedly wave Jake away and lift the heavy pot herself, carrying it to the table and dumping a huge pile of food onto the brown paper. She served everyone, and finally sat down and took a break. He wondered why she wasn’t eating, too.

  His arms were getting tired of holding the binoculars up, but what else was there for him to do?

  Again, he felt like a voyeur.

  Earlier in the day—a few hours after his visit from the local fuzz—he’d watched as they all headed back out to the beach with a kite in tow. He’d enjoyed seeing his little brother bonding with Rickey, running back and forth along the beach at the end of a kite string.

  He’d laughed when Ozzie had finally pulled it down, after repeatedly missing. His big paw had—probably purely by accident—landed on the string, crashing the kite into the dunes, and he’d run after it, sliding into a big crouching pounce, wagging his nub and staring up at the boy, as though he’d done something good.

  Rickey had scooped the kite up and thrown it into the air. It had sailed straight up, unharmed, before he gave up and instead played in the waves, taking turns with Dusty and Jake on the boogie board.

  One big happy family. Now they were gathered around the fire eating dinner together...and here he was—alone again.

  The door to the crofter opened and Grayson dropped the binoculars, and guiltily jumped up from the desk, shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “What are you doing in here?” Dusty asked him.

  Grayson shrugged. “Nothing.” And how the hell did you sneak up here? You were just on the beach a minute ago...

  Dusty laughed. “Doesn’t look like nothing...you dropped your eyeballs, stalker.” He pointed at the binoculars.

  “I wasn’t stalking. I’m bored. I was only looking out the window,” Grayson gruffly replied.

  “Yeah, right. Why don’t you come out and join us? Olivia cooks a mean Low Country Boil.”

  “I’m not hungry yet. I’ll grab something in the house later. A sandwich or something,” he said as his stomach rumbled, giving his lie away.

  “Grayson, look. I know you don’t like the water. But you can’t keep yourself cooped up here the whole week. It’s dark out. You can’t even see the water now. Come on...”

  “Nope.”

  “Your loss, brother. I think Olivia was waiting for you to join us. She hasn’t eaten yet.”

  “Don’t know why she’d wait for me. I never said I was coming.”

  Dusty shrugged. “Maybe she wants to thank you for what you did earlier.”

  “For fuck’s sake, who told her about that?”

  “Gabby did. Sorry, these girls don’t keep secrets anymore.”

  “What do you mean by anymore?” Grayson asked, and he couldn’t help himself, he picked up the binoculars again and turned to the window to watch Olivia. He’d been caught anyway, dammit.

  “I mean, they’ve all three been through hell and back—long time ago. Since then...no secrets. They tell each other everything; and me and Jake.”

  Dusty stepped up beside Grayson, and watched his new family surround the fire. “They’re open books, all of them. I know you didn�
��t know this, but Olivia has major trust issues with men. Her ex-husband laid hands on her—and not in a good way. So what happened earlier scared her to death. It was a good thing that you did there for her; even if you did go a little too far.”

  Grayson watched Olivia, fluttering around the fire again, taking care of everyone else’s needs. She picked up the heavy pot and moved it back to the fire.

  Is she keeping it warm for me?

  The flames licked high, reaching toward Olivia, seemingly thirsty for more. As am I...

  Through the long tendrils of dancing red and orange flames, he saw her dark hair waving in the wind, around her graceful, yet strong body.

  She turned and he caught a glimpse of her tattoo. He watched her throw her head back and laugh at something someone said. She was strong. And beautiful. She didn’t look at all weak or scared now. His heart beat faster every time he watched her. He was alarmed to realize he wanted this woman. More than he’d wanted any other woman since his wife.

  He wanted to breathe her in and feel her fire.

  He glanced at Dusty, realizing he’d not answered him. He set the binoculars on the table and sat down.

  “Yeah. Some women go through hell and just fizzle out. It’s good to see this one found it within her to rise up from the ashes,” he mumbled as he grabbed his shoes, shoving them on his feet.

  Maybe he would try some Low Country Boil. He was hungry, dammit.

  23

  Olivia watched Grayson sit down stiffly in a beach chair, after first rearranging it to be sure the water would be at his back.

  She wondered if his problem with the water was just that he couldn’t swim. But even people that don’t swim usually love to look at ocean. It was calming; peaceful. He must’ve had a bad experience at some time.

  She finished scooping a large helping of the stew into a bowl and carried it with a fork and napkin over to him.

  He reached for it, his fingers gently cupping hers. A tingle moved from the tips of her fingers to the ends of her toes. Her eyes found his, holding them for just a moment before he hurriedly looked down at the food. She could see he felt it, too.

  She slid her hand away first, letting him have the bowl. She sat down beside him, glad to see he was coming out with the group, and that he was eating.

  “Thank you,” he said, while staring into the bowl.

  He attacked the food as though it were his last meal, closing his eyes several times while chewing, as though savoring the flavors.

  “What’s in this stuff?”

  “Some people call it a ‘one-pot,’ or ‘Frogmore Stew,’ but there’s no frogs in it.”

  She smiled. “Everyone does it a little different, but mine is mostly fresh shrimp, Conecuh sausage and green olives. It’s also got corn on the cob, as you can see...and onions, celery, garlic cloves, peppercorn, dried chili peppers, bay leaves, thyme, parsley sprigs, lemons, and shrimp spice mix.”

  Grayson gave her a sidelong look and she wondered if she was saying too much. He probably didn’t want to know exactly what was in it. When he didn’t say anything else, she felt the need to fill up the silence with more useless babble he probably didn’t care about. But it was better than the awkward quiet between them.

  “Sometimes I use Old Bay seasoning instead of the shrimp spice. Oh, and I added kosher salt. Does it taste okay?”

  Grayson smiled and nodded. He balanced the bowl on his lap, needing his fingers to peel the shrimp. He placed the shrimp skins onto the napkin wedged beside him in his chair.

  “Delicious. Incredibly delicious.”

  “Thank you.” Olivia beamed. Nothing warmed her heart more than for someone to enjoy her cooking so much.

  Grayson nervously looked around. “Where’d everybody go?”

  “Jake and Gabby went for a walk down the beach that way, and Emma and Dusty went the other way. They took Ozzie and Rickey with them. I’m sure they’ll be right back.”

  She wondered if he was uncomfortable sitting alone with her by the fire. She got up, retrieved one of the sticks that the guys had whittled and poked at the logs, sending sparks flying.

  The flames leaped up, wrapping around the bottom of the pot. She needed to move it before it burned. It was fine for it to cool now anyway, it’d stay hot enough if Grayson wanted more.

  With her mind on him probably watching her—if she’d known he was coming out she would have put a cover-up over her bikini—she forgot the pot holders and grabbed the heavy metal handles bare-handed.

  “Ouch!" she screamed. She dropped the pot suddenly and it teetered, threatening to dump straight onto her bare stomach.

  Grayson jumped up and grabbed the pot’s handles just in time and set it back steady on the rack.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Olivia held her hands splayed out in front of her, staring at them in the dark with wide-open eyes. She could feel tears prickle at her.

  I won’t cry, darn it. Not in front of him.

  He slowly put his arm around her waist, pulling her away from the fire. “Come on, you’re not okay. Let’s get something on those hands to stop the burning.”

  When his arm touched her bare back, a scorching heat moved through her body—a heat that had nothing to do with the burns on her hands. She let him lead her back to the beach house.

  24

  Olivia stood at the sink, running her hands under the cool water to clean them while waiting on Grayson to find the first aid kit.

  She willed her pulse to return to normal. The burns weren’t that bad...she wasn’t in agony, anyway. But the stupid tears just kept coming.

  How embarrassing. Eyes leaking like a child with a boo-boo. Must be a bodily reaction to burns...

  She awkwardly swiped at her eyes with her upper arms, trying to dry them before Grayson returned, but she couldn’t stop the flow. It was a wasted effort.

  The short walk from the beach into the house had tilted her world and made her head buzz like a glass jar full of bees. She took in a deep breath and shuddered. She still felt the aftershocks of his body against hers as he’d helped her across the beach, up the path, and into the house.

  With them both wearing so little...her just a bikini, and him only a pair of swim trucks, she had felt the heat of his bare skin and solid muscles against her. She felt like melted putty. Pulsing shockwaves had run throughout her body, waking places that had been slumbering for years.

  And she was reminded of how it was to feel completely safe within the arms of a man—a man that wanted her, too.

  She could feel his desire—the intense attraction—and she knew it matched hers. His movements became tight; juddering along so unlike his normal gait full of gruff confidence. And when she’d stumbled in the sand, and had touched the bare skin of his chest to help get her balance, he’d jumped.

  Maybe she was ready. She was ready to admit she’d half-heartedly tried to cultivate a relationship with an online stranger—one who wasn’t willing to meet her halfway—only to satisfy her sisters while protecting her heart...knowing she’d probably never meet him face to face. Knowing he couldn’t hurt her; body or heart.

  But it was probably time. Time to close the door on her past and build a new future. One where she was no longer alone. To do that, she needed to focus on a real live, flesh and blood man. One she could see, touch and feel... who might see, touch and feel her too. One who had already made her feel more than she had in years—without even trying.

  She wasn’t going to fight it anymore. Her heart wanted a man... and her body wanted Grayson.

  ***

  Grayson cleared his throat. He didn’t want to startle Olivia by sneaking up behind her.

  “You found it?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.

  He held up a small white box with a red cross sticker stuck to it. “Yep.”

  She gave him a stoic smile, and he noticed her cheeks shining just under her eyes.

  Oh, Shit... Tears. For fucks sake. Tears had the ability to make him come undo
ne. Pulled at his heart strings. He couldn’t stand to see a woman cry. Well, she wasn’t exactly crying...but tears were bad enough.

  He set the box on the counter beside the sink and looked at her. She held her hands out. He ignored her hands and gently rubbed the pads of his thumbs under her beautiful blue eyes, slowly wiping away her tears. She blinked in surprise and thanked him politely.

  She’s a trooper, Grayson thought.

  He took her hands one at a time and patted them dry with a soft towel. He dropped the towel and fumbled around in the box to find a tube of burn cream.

  He tried to focus.

  Squeezing a little cream on each hand, he slowly rubbed it in, first on one hand, and then the other, as gently as he could. His hands were shaking.

  Damn heart feels like a jackhammer, he thought. This woman’s a sorceress. Barely touches me and I quiver like I just got shocked. Wiping tears and mending hands...what next? She’s put a spell on me. Somehow.

  He pulled the gauze from the roll and wrapped each hand three times. The weight of the pot had made its mark mostly on her palms, but there was a slight red line across all four fingers of each hand, too. No need to wrap those; it’d just come undone, and didn’t look too serious. But he knew they probably stung right now.

  He risked a look at her face. Her eyes were closed, and she’d pulled in her lower lip, holding it still with perfect white teeth. Was the pain that bad?

  He surprised himself by lifting her hands and gently kissing each finger. She gasped quietly, but didn’t pull away. Her eyes popped open, looking at him full of trust and desire.

  Dammit, woman. Don’t trust me. You’ll regret it, he thought.

  Grayson’s stomach flipped. Emotion he hadn’t felt in years started to churn, and his mind clouded. He could only think of how her lips would feel against his. A warning sounded somewhere in his head, but his heart drowned it out as he leaned down and cradled the back of Olivia’s neck in his hand. She leaned her head back, her lips slightly parted, welcoming him, and he accepted.