Wrecked (Sons of San Clemente Book 2)

by Sinclair Jayne

  “God.” She shook her head. “Like it’s that easy.”

  “It is. Just move on.”

  As if. The past kept jumping out at her around every corner. But that was Kadan. Stronger. More disciplined. Less emotional. She could never match him for adventure. He jumped on waves the size of buildings and rode them like they were horses. She kept stumbling through life. Falling over and struggling to her feet only to get pushed down again. She couldn’t even swim in the shallows anymore.

  She had to stop thinking. The past was the past. Don’t dwell. Wasn’t that some lyric from an eighties dance song? Her roommate in med school had been all into new wave or whatever the eighties had been called. And ‘I’d better not catch you with someone else’ had definitely been part of it too. Well, she’d caught Kadan with plenty of someone elses.

  “So.” She stood up, needing to get away from him and all the memories. “I’m going to take a shower. Then we should discuss our...our arrangement.”

  He nodded. Gulped the rest of his coffee and handed her the mug. She took it, rolling her eyes. It made sense, but still fetching for him was going to make her feel like the family dog.

  “I hope you heal quickly,” she said.

  “Very,” he said. “In the right circumstances.”

  “Can’t wait to hear what those are.”

  Hollis let the hot water run over her for longer than she should. This was Southern California. Drought. Always. She should turn off the water in between shampooing and conditioning, but it felt so good as if she were washing away Kadan and his plan. Washing away the last year. Her last failure. And the one before that. The heat relaxed her taut muscles, and the fragrance of the tea tree oil shampoo she’d made smelled so fresh and good. Showering always made her feel like she could start over, fresh. If only.

  But the guilt over water usage overrode her pleasure, and she turned it off even though she could have stood there for a half hour just letting the water pour over her and wash all her thoughts and fears and negative energy down the drain.

  She twisted her hair to wring out the excess water and then stepped onto the orange-grey slate floor and reached for a large fluffy grey towel. She closed her eyes and sighed. The towel and the bathroom was a luxury she’d forgotten since leaving home so many years ago to strike out on her own. She massaged her homemade lotion into her skin and then tucked it back in her cotton cosmetic bag.

  “Great,” she muttered, realizing she’d been in such a hurry that she hadn’t brought her clothes in with her. Hopefully Kadan would still be out on the deck, although watching the morning surfers might burn when he couldn’t join them although this was not the beach where the good waves usually hit.

  “Duchess.” He greeted her as she opened the bathroom door.

  He stood on his crutches. He looked amused, but she could see the white line of strain around his lips and she forced down her worry.

  “If I am going to be running errands for you, then you’d better ditch the hated nickname.” She informed him and headed for her duffle bag.

  Even as she passed him, she felt his sexual pull. Chills ran up her spine and the hair on her neck and arms stood up. She felt a low pulse between her thighs as if an engine were trying to start up. It had been so long, she didn’t know if she still remembered what to do.

  Stop, she ordered herself and squeezed her thighs together as if that would somehow stop the chain reaction. She was pathetic.

  “Ivy no longer applies as you don’t cling, but you are still proving to be invasive.”

  She pulled on a black tank not bothering with a bra since he was right there and to get back to the bathroom for some privacy would mean she had to parade by him in a towel again.

  “This is more my home than yours.” She groused, stepping into some black panties.

  “I was invited.”

  Of course he didn’t sound defensive, but she felt it. She could feel her heart rate speed and her breathing catch, go shallow. She was staring at thirty. When was she supposed to get all this wisdom? Control? Confidence?

  “Standing invitation.” She pretended indifference and roughly pulled on a pair of black capri leggings with little Anime buttons on the side cuffs that she’d made and had sewn on. “You could try using my real name.”

  “Hollis. It doesn’t suit you. Never liked it.”

  “Too damn bad. Breakfast?”

  “I’d like a shower first.”

  “Okay. Have at it. I’ll make a smoothie for you.” She was already pulling out her small bullet blender.

  “Hollis.”

  Her name. Not good. She turned around, trying to keep a calm expression on her face.

  “Kadan.”

  “I’m going to need some help.”

  “In the shower?”

  Her heart thumped madly. Kadan. Wet. Naked and wet and slippery. And she’d be holding on to him. Angling the showerhead to get him clean. Helping him to soap up. Her vividly visual imagination soared.

  “Showering with me never proved so horrifying in the past,” he said drily.

  “But...” She gestured desperately as if trying to scoop up the past six years and all the fights between them.

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to ask before you showered, but you took off so quickly.”

  She bit back a curse. Of course she had. She’d been trying to get away from him. And now she was back with him, only now he’d be naked.

  She forced herself to look at him. That was a mistake. He stood there so straight. Proud. His face impassive, but she could read the pain he was trying to hide.

  Something brittle in her broke.

  This was Kadan. Independent. Arrogant. Competitive. Hard. But always the first to help out a friend. And now he needed help, but he didn’t want to ask for it. But he needed it. And here she was, getting all pervy about seeing his body, touching him. Already she could feel the heat between her thighs, the gathering moisture, so achingly familiar when he was around.

  And, of course, he knew what he still did to her. He certainly hadn’t been subtle or quiet about his prowess turning her on in the past. She’d been a light switch to him, and he knew it. Loved it. He used to drive her crazy with desire just whispering in her ear about how he loved knowing how she was always ready for him, always wet, always eager, no matter when or where. And then he would dip his finger inside her panties to prove his point and, holding her hot gaze, he would put his glistening finger in his mouth and smile and whisper “mine.”

  She jumped. Why did she have such a visceral memory? And why could her mind just never shut up?

  “Ah, shower. Yes.” She stumbled past him.

  A chair. A chair from the deck that could get wet. That would be the professional thing. He could sit and shower alone.

  Hollis practically raced outside, found a stack of plastic chairs on the side of the deck, and carried one back inside. By the time she had the chair in the shower, her brain had almost snapped out of its sexual stupor.

  “Okay. Shower,” she said brightly as if he were a confused old man and she a new nurse.

  She’d been a professional once. Before she lost it. Spectacularly. Humiliatingly and unforgivably. But she could do this.

  He swung himself into the bathroom after her. The room seemed to shrink to half the size and Kadan dominated the space. She could hardly breathe. Not a panic attack here. Not in front of him.

  “Okay, I’ve, um, moved the shampoo and body wash close and took the shower head off so you could angle it where you want and...I’ll stay close in case you need—” She broke off as he started to peel off his shorts. “Aren’t you going to wear your shorts?” she squeaked.

  He paused and his lips ghosted into a smile. “Do you shower with your clothes on?”

  “Well, no, but...ah, let me just squeeze by and step out.”

  “Not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

  Her throat felt so dry she couldn’t swallow.

  “And touched me.”
/>   There was a roaring in her ears.

  “And showered with me.” His voice was pure smoke and her vision began to darken.

  “What the hell, Hollis? Breathe.” All of a sudden he pushed her head down between her legs. “Breathe. In and out.”

  She stared at the beautiful slate floor. She’d helped her grandmother pick out this slate. She’d chosen it because the blue streaks in it matched Kadan’s eyes when he was teasing her. And the orange was for the fire between them. Two tears leaked out of her eyes and splashed on the slate. Don’t let him notice.

  But no, he noticed everything. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  This time remained unspoken. What would he say or do if she told him the truth? All of it.

  She sucked in oxygen like she was a middle-aged, out of shape, runner back on the treadmill for the first time in a few months. Then she forced herself to stand up and face him.

  His beautiful, sculpted lips were tight, his eyes sparked with frustration.

  “You’re a physical therapist, Hollis. I thought this would be a fucking breeze.”

  “Of course it is,” she said quickly.

  Just keep breathing She wanted to get this over with and prove to herself she was, once and for all, over him.

  His eyes narrowed and she remembered his ‘no lies’ clause, and even though she’d never lied to him, she wanted to somehow brush off her freak out.

  “Sorry. Low blood sugar, maybe.” She hedged at the darkness in his expression—stormy blue black. “You just surprised me. I wasn’t planning on the naked part.”

  “You and me in the same room and naked didn’t come to mind?” he drawled. “You’ve never kept your clothes on around me.”

  “That was a long time ago.” She could feel the blush burn to her roots and silently cursed her fair skin. “Long, long, long time ago.” She muttered.

  “In a galaxy far, far away.” He finished and one long, brown finger slid across her cheek, and she felt the thrill all the way to her toes. “Six years is not that long, duchess. Not long enough to begin to forget.”

  She couldn’t look away from the warmth in the deep blue of his eyes. His heated gaze was like a wave washing over her, knocking her off her feet, and carrying her away from any hope of balance, stability.

  “It’s not like you were any better keeping your clothes on.” She accused, striving for sarcastic but only sounding breathless.

  He laughed and the deep husky timber went straight to her bones. “True, and no plans to improve.”

  That stabbed at her. How many women he’d been with? Before her. During her. After her.

  His shorts fell to the ground. Her air whooshed out as the dark blue and aqua blue puddled at her feet. She stood up and stared at the hard planes of his face.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  His face shuttered. “For which part?”

  That kicked up her temper. He’d hurt her, not the other way around. Every time she’d been away or he was on the circuit, she’d seen pictures of him posted with women all around him. Barely clothed and often drunk women. Touching him.

  “The past is the past,” she said in a hard voice. “Let’s just get this done.”

  “Get this done,” he echoed softly, his breath teasing her cheek as he bent to look into her eyes. “I must truly be losing my touch.”

  Hollis jerked on the water, angry and terrified at the same time. Losing his touch. If only that were true.

  Kadan closed his eyes and let the hot water just roll over his body. He felt as if the past few weeks, all the pain and worry and anger began to jar loose and partially wash away. For a moment, when he’d seen the doubt and desire war in Hollis’ eyes, he’d felt a spark of his old self, and he wanted to savor that. Duchess was back and from the hunted look in her eyes, she wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry. He had time on his side for once.

  A twinge of guilt shot through him. Something in her life had gone very wrong. He should be trying to help her, not celebrate that she was back in San Clemente and, for the moment, back in his life. It wasn’t as if he could really act on anything. They’d danced this dance before, but always her insecurity and jealousy and accusations had ruined them. She needed to find a man who wanted the whole package, marriage, house, regular job, kids. His stomach rolled over at the thought, especially as his career, which had driven him for more than half his life, was most likely over. What the hell was he going to do now? Who would he even be if he couldn’t compete?

  He bit back a groan.

  “What hurts?” Hollis flipped off the water.

  His eyes snapped open. He had to stay focused on the present, not the past or everything that was currently wrong with his life.

  “You haven’t shampooed my hair.”

  “Something wrong with your arms?” She rolled her eyes and handed him a bottle of tea tree oil shampoo.

  He considered making some kind of pathetic excuse for help, but decided he was damaged enough and didn’t need any help looking old and disabled and ineffective. His gut churned with distaste. He popped the lid with his thumb, poured a little shampoo in his palm, and lathered up before running his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

  Her swallow was audible. She’d always loved to wash his hair. She nearly always had jumped in the shower with him, abandoning her pretense of “saving water,” after her first time spending the night. Kadan remembered how she would lather up the shampoo that she’d made and massage his scalp and run her strong hands down his back, his butt, his thighs, and then...he laughed as he felt his erection stirring to life.

  Proof that he wasn’t as dead as he’d felt, but hardly something Hollis would welcome at this point.

  “I’ll just step outside,” she said, sounding strangled.

  Part of him wanted to ask her to stay, to watch him as he washed to see if she were really as immune to him as she wanted him to think, but another part of him was pissed that she had to see him this way. Injured. Diminished. Unable to do basic tasks without help. He wasn’t twenty-five anymore and Hollis wasn’t some idiot fan, who didn’t know the first thing about career ending injuries. She’d seen worse, much worse working with soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan. His ankle and foot was nothing to her. And his hip, too, if she even knew about it, would be nothing. Suck it up. He could practically hear her taunt.

  He jerked a nod. Angry that he was still needling her, desiring her. Been there. Done that. Disaster for both.

  He barely noticed her duck out of the bathroom. This was so stupid. In disgust with his failed body and pity party, he tossed the head of the shower aside where it hit the tile hard and clattered to the floor. Bracing himself on the chair, he tried to stand up.

  “Kadan,” Hollis shouted, and raced back to the bathroom and grabbed him from behind and wrapping her arms around his body. He could feel her strength. He’d always liked her muscles. “What happened? Did you fall?” She pushed him back into the chair.

  “You shouldn’t stand up without me. Ughech.” The strangled noise she made when the showerhead water hit her in the face was adorable and almost cut through his embarrassment that she thought she had to rescue him.

  “That went really well from my point of view,” he said coolly, noting that her thin cotton tank was now drenched and clinging to her slim body.

  She picked up the shower head and held it over him. “You’re lucky I don’t turn this ice cold.”

  “I commend your restraint, duchess.”

  She turned off the water.

  “Here.” She handed him a towel. “If you’re smart, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

  “No one ever accused me of being smart, duchess.” He felt a smile bloom inside when her lips twitched up.

  “No, they didn’t, Kadan. But,” she paused, her face serious again, “they were wrong.” She sucked in a deep breath, and her next words were a punch to his gut. “My grandmother,” she said shakily, and he held out his hand as if that would stop h
er, “she saw a lot in you.”

  He caught her hand.

  There was so much to say, but he’d never done words well. That had always been Hollis’ gift and curse.

  “She did.” His voice choked a little. “She always tried to see the good in people,” he said softly. “I didn’t deserve it, but...”

  “You did,” Hollis said fiercely. She pressed her fingers against his mouth.

  He felt her touch all the way to his toes. Unfortunately, it was not his toes that reacted. And the towel didn’t begin to disguise his reaction to her.

  “Now, shut up. I’m going to help you up. Then you can get dressed while I make you a smoothie.”

  “Maybe you should supervise me more closely as I dress.”

  “Don’t reduce everything to sex,” she said.

  “What else is there?”

  Kadan laughed when she practically threw his crutches at him.

  She bit back a curse when his towel slipped. She fled the bathroom and stalked back to the kitchen. Trying to settle her heart back to a normal rhythm and reminding her over-sexed self that she and Kadan were so done, Hollis rapidly peeled a banana to throw in a blender, where she’d already pushed in some green leafy veggies.

  “Is that kale?”

  She jumped. “Damn, you still walk like a cat even injured.”

  “Meow. Kale?”

  “Yes. And you’re going to shut up and drink it.”

  She threw in a few more ingredients, mainly to sweeten it a bit since she expected Kadan to balk and to mitigate the green color somewhat since men were still babies about their vegetables. She was so rattled by his closeness that she nearly hit the power button before putting on the lid. He slammed it on just as she pushed.

  “Good reflexes.” She bit her lip, hating that it was so obvious that he still got to her. She might as well take out a full page ad in the LA Times, announcing that yes, she was still stupidly attracted to and undone by Kadan Carson. She looked at the consistency of the liquid and pushed stop.

  This was one of her favorite, go-to smoothies. It was healthy and tasty, but she’d made extra since Kadan was a tall man and healing. She hadn’t planned to be feeding an extra person. She’d have to go to the grocery store soon. A risk in a town where she’d grown up and didn’t want to see anyone she knew. And tricky financially. Her money had to last. But if she hit him up for grocery money she’d seem mean. And he’d know that she was in trouble. She shouldn’t have money problems. Look at her family. Look at her education. Look how far she’d fallen. That took skill.