Mia Found (Starting Fires Book 3)

by Makenzie Smith

It took me longer than it should have to realize the woman was staring straight at us. Did we know each other? She was too far away for me to clearly see her face, and I brought a hand to my forehead trying to shield my eyes. The woman looked the other way, took a step in the opposite direction, but then abruptly turned back around and walked straight towards us.

  “Paul?”

  “Huh?” he said, barely stopping his affection.

  “Do you know that woman?”

  “What woman?” he answered with a kiss to my neck.

  “Over there.”

  He turned over his shoulder and frowned. “Yeah,” he said, standing. He reached a hand down to me, pulling me up. “That’s Liza.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  PAUL’S BOSS WASN’T AT all as I imagined. This woman ran an accounting firm? She looked young and fun, not what I normally associated with a boss. I smiled as she approached us, and she did, too.

  But only at Paul.

  “Paul,” she said, “I didn’t know you’d be at this beach.”

  “It’s right by the condo,” he said. “It’s the closest one.”

  “Right,” she laughed. “Well, we closed the office early and decided to come out. Wanna join us?”

  Paul peered around her and eyed a group of people walking onto the sand. A few of them waved at us. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, thinking it over.

  “I’m only being polite,” Liza said. “If you don’t want to hang out with us it’s fine.”

  She was grinning, but hadn’t yet acknowledged me. Her eyes were focused on Paul, watching him, studying him. I didn’t like the way she stared. It was too intently. She was searching for something and it made me uncomfortable.

  I grabbed his arm, wrapping myself around it. “I don’t mind,” I said, looking up at him and unnecessarily playing with his hair. It wasn’t to make her jealous, but I had an overwhelming need to assert my claim on him.

  “See,” she shrugged, “what’s her name doesn’t mind.”

  “Mia,” he said to her.

  “Hmm?”

  “Mia doesn’t mind.”

  “Oh, well, Mia doesn’t mind, then.”

  My stomach knotted. Suddenly, I did mind. A lot. Liza seemed just as mean as Fiona. Looking at her more closely, I realized they could be sisters. She sensed my stare and finally turned her gaze to me, looking at me expectantly.

  “Sorry,” I said. “You just remind me of someone.”

  “You sure you don’t mind?” Paul asked me, and I wished he would have done it in private. Liza was watching me and telling him the truth would be rude.

  “It’s fine,” I smiled, trying my hardest to look genuine.

  “That settles it,” Liza said. “We’ll be over there.” She pointed to a spot down the beach and left us.

  Once she was out of earshot, Paul looked down at me, tilting his head to the side.

  “What?” I asked.

  “That smile was fake as hell.”

  “Uh…” I laughed, trying to pretend like it wasn’t.

  “Pretty…it was. You know how many times I’ve seen you smile? I can tell when it’s fake.”

  No point in denying it. I shrugged. “Well, Liza is rude. And I don’t like the way she looks at you.”

  I wish I could have seen his eyes, because he paused, watching me. If I could have seen them, I would have known right away what he was thinking.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “She’s mad I’m not staying for longer. Keeps saying they need me to help them out with this thing or that thing. It’s always something with her. She’d prefer it if I just lived at the office, I think.”

  “How much longer do you have to do this?” I asked. “Going back and forth. It’s taking its toll, Paul.” I touched his stomach, stepping into him. “You’re tired. Why don’t you tell them no?”

  He sighed and gave me a quick peck, over and done before I would have liked. “Let’s go meet my work family and then tonight we can do whatever you want.”

  “I know what I want to do,” I said, smiling mischievously.

  He gathered our things and took my hand. “Oh, we’re doing that.” He grinned. “But we’ll do something else, too.”

  Everyone he worked with seemed friendly and pleasant. Many of them even knew who I was, but it was obvious he wasn’t “one” of them. He was still viewed as an outsider, not really part of their company. I watched him awkwardly make small talk with a few, but I knew he wanted to be anywhere but there. To make it less painful for him, I tried my hardest to delve right in.

  I played Frisbee and horseshoes. I even joined them for a round of beach volleyball. Paul was removed the entire time, watching me from the sidelines. Liza was ever present at his side, spouting off annoying things about work and when I saw the tension reach his shoulders, I had enough.

  Determined, I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Can we go?” I asked. “I wanna be alone with you,” I whispered, but loud enough for Liza to hear.

  “Yeah, Pretty,” he said with his lopsided grin. Quickly, we told everyone goodbye. Hand in hand we walked back to our condo and he smiled the entire time.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “You.”

  I chuckled. “Why?”

  “You don’t even know them,” he said. “But there you were, laughing, joking. And putting Liza in her place with nothing but a sweet smile.”

  “Well, I could tell she was getting on your nerves.”

  “She was,” he said. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I planned to spend the day.”

  “It’s not over. We can do anything we want!”

  After we changed clothes, Paul and I walked down the beach, carrying our shoes in our hands. The sun was setting and many of the people had left, letting us have some privacy. We didn’t speak much, but it was perfect. Just him, me, and the sun’s orange glow atop the water.

  We stopped at a restaurant and ate dinner on their open patio. The ocean breeze made my hair dance, and I didn’t even try to contain it. A sliver of sun clung to the skyline and I sighed, loving the view.

  “Do you like it here?” Paul asked.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  “The ocean suits you.”

  I tended to agree, but my parents were in Louisiana. I’d miss them terribly if I ever left. But that might be inevitable. “I’m still having a hard time finding work,” I said, propping my chin into my hand. “Nothing is available.”

  “Don’t worry.” He reached across the table and grabbed my fingers. “The right job will find you when it needs to, and I don’t want you to agonize over it. I’m here. I can help you in whatever way you need until you find one.”

  It was sweet that he was willing to help, but I wanted to do this on my own. Even if I’d have to take a job I hated before finding one I enjoyed.

  “Do you love your job?” When it came to Paul’s employment, I was still on the fence. It seemed that all it did was stress him out and I wanted to understand his motivation.

  “It’s a job,” he shrugged. “Not my life. I can’t say I love it, but I like it.”

  But it was his life. Or becoming that way. I wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear that from me, and let it go. “Good,” I said, squeezing his hand.

  We ate until our stomachs were full and walked back down the beach, stopping every so often to admire the waves. I could feel it again. Our bubble. Growing. Cocooning us. We were lost to the outside. It was just the two of us. His eyes and the way they sparkled in the moonlight. His smile and the way it warmed me, making me feel loved, cared for. His hands were devoted, touching me with reverence.

  In the condo we didn’t even make it to the bedroom. He had me on the floor just inside the door. We lay on the cool tile long after we were through, not speaking, our eyes and hands telling each other everything we needed to know.

  I was his. And he was mine. No matter what, my heart would always belong with him. It chose him th
e first time I saw him—standing in a doorway with a shy smile and honest eyes. It knew then that he was it. It seemed foolish to “know” something like that so soon and maybe I was being naïve, but…

  Something about Paul reached me. I’d never been one to need or want a boyfriend, but he was different. He was always different. It was his apprehension, his reluctance. He had been afraid to open up to me, not because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t want to hurt me. He was protecting me, caring for me, even before we ever kissed.

  I loved him. I’d loved him for months.

  We made it to the bedroom, and Paul fell asleep. I curled into his side and lay awake letting this realization bury into my heart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  A STORM BLEW IN the last few days we were at the beach. We stood in front of the windows watching the ocean roll and crash against the shore. It was powerful. Thrashing. Tumbling. It held me captive. I’d never seen anything so full of force and wished I had my paint equipment with me. It needed to be captured.

  We didn’t mind staying indoors, and I held on to every moment we had. Because I knew…it might be a while before we had another like it. Whole hours. Days. Just the two of us.

  Our flight was scheduled first thing in the morning and I was busy cleaning up our messes. Paul was in the other room neatly putting his clothes in the suitcase. His phone was on the coffee table, buzzing and buzzing. Message after message went off. Then it started ringing.

  He didn’t venture out of the room, letting it go to voicemail, but it started up again.

  “Do you mind getting that?” he called.

  The display said Mom, and I gulped. “It’s your mother,” I answered.

  “See what she wants.”

  I’d never spoken to his mother. “Uh,” I cleared my throat. “Uh, hello?”

  “Mia?” she said. How did she know who I was? We’d never met.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “It’s so nice to finally hear your voice! Paul has told me so many wonderful things about you.”

  “I’m good,” I smiled. “Sorry we haven’t met. How’s Ferdinand?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. This damn dog is too much for an old woman like me to handle.”

  “Do I need to get Paul?”

  “Yes, I need someone to yell at, and it shouldn’t be you, even if you are his beloved.” Amused, I shook my head. She was the second member of his family to call me that. It wasn’t a term you heard people use often.

  “Paul?” I said, stepping into the room. He was folding a dress shirt and looked over his shoulder at me. “Your mother is having a crisis with your dog.”

  He sighed, but took the phone.

  My cleaning practically finished, I hovered at the doorway eavesdropping on his call.

  “Uh-huh. Yeah. Well, why’d you let him in there?” He took a breath, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’ll be back in the morning. Can you hold out until then?” He paused, letting his mother speak. Whatever she was saying, he couldn’t get a word in. Each time he opened his mouth, she cut him off.

  Finally, he laughed. “All right,” he said. “All right. I’ll bring her over when we get back. This weekend is fine.”

  My brows shot up. It was? He hadn’t even asked me. What would I wear? Who would be there? Did I need to bring anything? He told her goodbye and tossed the phone onto the bed.

  “Did you just agree to take me to a family dinner?”

  “Yeah,” he said, not looking at me. When I didn’t say anything else, he sensed my discomfort and turned. “Oh, shit.” He walked over to me, touching my arms. “Is that okay? I didn’t even think about it. It’s not okay, is it? I shouldn’t have done that. Do you want me to cancel? I can cancel. I’ll call her right now.” He walked away and grabbed the phone from the bed.

  “Wait,” I said, walking over and stopping him. “It’s fine. I’m just…nervous. Your family seems…”

  “Scary?”

  I chuckled. “No, not scary. Just big. Close. Do you think they’ll like me?”

  “What?” he asked as if I was insane. “Of course they’ll like you. They’ll love you. Don’t ever worry about that. My mother knows so much about you already. She’s been dying to meet you.”

  “Really? What have you told her?”

  He smiled, grabbing my hands and sitting on the bed. “A few things.”

  “Like?”

  “You’re an artist. Beautiful. Kind. Genuine.”

  I grinned. “We’re meeting them this weekend?”

  “If that’s okay. I’ll tell my mother not to make it a big thing.”

  I took a calming breath. It would be fine. I was just being overdramatic. Paul and I were serious, and serious couples met each other’s families. Besides, he’d already met mine. “It’ll be great,” I smiled.

  His lopsided grin looked up at me, and I reached out to trace the curve with my fingertip. “I love your smile,” I said. Immediately, it melted away and his eyes changed. Gone was their playfulness.

  I loved it when he looked at me this way too. My fingers caressed his chin and I brought my lips to his. They’d barely touched before he pulled me down to the bed, kicking his shirts and folded pants out of the way.

  He didn’t even bother removing all of my clothes. With a jerk, my shorts were off my legs and he was inside me. All thoughts of fear and anxiety flew away. He brought me into our little world, closing off the outside and I lost myself in him. The way he moved. How he touched me. How deep and intense his eyes bore into mine.

  Our legs tangled. Our hands roamed. Paul’s quiet words of adoration and affection lingered in my ear. He loved the way I felt. He couldn’t get enough of me. I was perfect.

  So was he.

  My heart felt too full. It was bursting over with my feelings for him. He held me so delicately, and I could feel the tension in him grow. He was so much stronger than he let himself be. But he refrained. For me.

  We made love well into the night, too tired and weak to finish packing. By the next morning we rushed from room to room, checking everything, throwing clothes into suitcases. I knew for Paul this was out of character.

  He was meticulous in all aspects of his life. Neat. Tidy. A planner. This was making him anxious. To help, I overcompensated and made sure to take care of everything I could so he wouldn’t have to.

  With only a few minutes to spare we met at the front door with our suitcases.

  “Ready?” I asked him and he burst out laughing. “What so funny?” I chuckled.

  “You,” he said, a smile on his lips. “Look at yourself.”

  I looked down at my clothes and realized my shirt was on inside out. “Oh.” Quickly, I pulled it off and made it right. “Better?” I smiled.

  He nodded. “Are you gonna miss it here?” he asked with one last look at our condo.

  “I’m gonna miss getting so much time with you. Will you still have to work so much when we get back?”

  He pulled his lips to the side making him look sad. “Yeah,” he said. “But I’ll be better. I’ll make more time for you. Whatever you need.”

  “It will get better though?”

  “It will,” he said, looking me straight in the eyes. His honesty reached me and I held on to his faith. “I have a plan.”

  “That’s awfully mysterious.” I grinned. “But I do love surprises.”

  “I remember.” He looked down to his suitcase and grabbed mine. He seemed pensive, but I was beginning to understand Paul.

  Despite how strong and able he was professionally, when it came to us, he was always self-conscious and uncertain. I understood. In his past lay heartache. Plenty of it. I kissed him on the cheek. “I had a wonderful time, and I trust you. I know it will get better. Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “No. You’re right, Mia. I need to be better for you.”

  “Oh hush.” I swatted his arm. “You’re perfect. Now let’s go or we’re going to be l
ate.”

  Paul smiled and walked out of the door. As I was shutting it, I took one more lingering look. This was where I’d given myself to him for the first time. I would miss it. Terribly. All of the lazy mornings cuddling in bed. With a sigh, I closed the door.

  We’d still get those days. Paul wouldn’t lie to me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  PAUL’S MOTHER WAS ALREADY gone when we walked into his apartment and Ferdinand leapt through the living room to reach us.

  “I’ll take him for a walk,” I offered, giving his head a rub. “I’ve missed him while I’ve been away.”

  “Okay,” Paul said and I sensed something off. His shoulders were tense and he kept his back to me. Not able to get to the bottom of it with Ferdinand pushing into my legs, I grabbed his leash and headed out the door.

  We made our usual circle around the complex, stopping to smell the same bushes and trees. Ferdinand spotted a squirrel and tried to chase it, but I dug my feet into the ground, keeping him on track.

  “Leave the poor thing alone, boy.”

  With some struggle, I corralled him and we made it back to the apartment. Paul was sitting on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. He wanted to tell me something and it was serious. A knot grew in my stomach and I went to the kitchen and filled Ferdinand’s bowl. While I was occupied, I tried to decide if I’d said or done anything in the last few hours to change Paul’s mood. Nothing came to mind.

  “Mia,” Paul said, and the tone sent a shiver down my spine. I didn’t answer him. “Mia,” he repeated. “Come here. I need to talk to you.”

  Warily, I walked towards the couch to sit beside him.

  “Over there,” he said, pointing to the loveseat.

  “Okay. What’s going on? You’re weirding me out.”

  “It’s just that…I was…” Paul ran a hand down his face before meeting my eyes. “In Florida. You said–you said you didn’t want me to talk about work. So I didn’t. But now…we’re here. And maybe I should have mentioned it then, but we just–we never get any time together and I didn’t want to make it about that. I wanted to focus on you.”