by Snow, Nicole
Not willing to go down that road, I get up and head into the laundry room. After cutting off all the tags, I throw the clothes in the washer and take the personal supplies, toothbrush, deodorant, some face wash and other chick stuff, into the bathroom. It’s been years since I’ve seen any of those things, and even longer since they graced my bathroom counter.
I stay busy, changing the sheets on the bed and then moving on to other miscellaneous chores in between checking on her. After hanging the few clothes that Cash brought over in the closet, I stand back and stare.
What the fuck were we thinking?
No woman has a wardrobe this skimpy. Her stuff barely takes up a foot or two of space in the closet.
Damn it.
A loud meow has me turning around. The big spotted cat looks at me and then turns, walking out the French doors with its tail flicking.
I follow.
The cat leads me right to Val.
She’s awake, rubbing at her eyes. She gives me a shy smile. Something about this slip of a tired, pretty girl puts a dull ache in my head, wondering if I can really keep her safe.
But I have to try. I fucking have to.
“Feeling any better?” I ask, knowing full well the question’s getting old.
“Yeah,” she says with a yawn, combing her hands through her hair, carefully near the injured spot. “Cash was right about the sleep. Seems to help a little more every time.”
As the long dark tresses fall off her hands and settle on her shoulders, she says, “This place is so beautiful. I can’t believe I don’t remember...” She touches her bandaged temple. “Must be this stupid injury. I can’t imagine anything else that could make me forget a place like this.”
Yeah, I can imagine one thing.
How about a desperate, lying SOB who’s not really your husband?
I don’t know what to say. For a second, guilt roils my blood, quickly overruled by cold logic.
“You look thirsty. Cash said you should stay hydrated. Let me get you something to drink.”
Back in the kitchen, I remember she didn’t finish her pineapple juice. Too sweet, maybe, so I open a bottle of tea, pour it in a glass of ice, and carry it out to her.
“Mango flavored. Hope you like it.”
She smiles as I hand her the glass. “I was hoping for iced tea. And if anybody hates mango, maybe they need their heads checked for amnesia. Something’s clearly wrong.”
Good call on my part. Lying shouldn’t be this easy. I take the lounge seat next to her, trying not to dwell on this charade fuckery.
“Did you really build this place?” she asks.
“Yep.”
“All of it?” Her mouth goes for the tea, taking a long pull off the glass. Far more seductive than it should be.
“Most of it,” I growl, trying not to let my dick run off with my head. “Had some help with a few parts like the wiring and plumbing, but the carpentry was mine.”
“When?”
“Just finished the final touches about a couple months ago.”
Hard to believe. A few months later, and here I am with a chick crashing in my digs who I can’t even have a normal fucking conversation with.
Valerie nods, sipping her tea. “So that’s why it looks so unlived in. Where did we live before moving here?”
“Honolulu.” That’s where I’d been with Bryce for years, and it’s where her family lives, too.
“We’re on the other side of the island, aren’t we? Farther north?” She smiles like she’s talking about some far-off land. Not the other side of an island that hardly takes an hour or two to drive across.
I wonder how much she ever traveled. Or was she shut up and sheltered?
“Yeah, right near Punaluu,” I tell her. “Lots of green. Nice mountains. Organic farms. Small towns. Just how I like it.”
She smiles real sweet. “Funny how you can live on an island this small, but never take the time to appreciate what’s in your own backyard. If I never did before, I’m sorry. I guess that’s the silver lining...seeing everything with fresh eyes.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her there’s no damn silver lining at all.
What she said is true. I lived in California years ago, but only saw less than a fourth of the state. Moving to Hawaii, I explored every inch of Oahu the first few months, so when I sold my patent and was ready to build, I knew exactly where I wanted my place.
“How long have we been married?”
I shake my head. “Not long.”
She smiles. “I’m not overdoing it with the questions, am I? I’m just—” She sighs. “I don’t know. Curious. It’s so strange, losing your freaking mind.”
“I’m sure it is. It’s not gone for good. Trust in Cash. I’m sure it’ll be back.”
She smiles and extends a hand to me. Can’t resist grabbing her wrist, sliding up to her fingers, and holding her just like that.
It’s my turn to feel that strangeness hit. I can’t even remember the last time I ever held a woman’s hand. I’ve never hurt for attention, or putting my balls to good use whenever I want, but it seems like that’s all I’ve done between raising Bryce.
Romance? No fucking time. No motivation, either, if I’m blunt.
Still, it almost feels natural as an easy calm settles in. We spend most of the afternoon just sitting on the lanai, not doing much of anything. Fine and dandy.
She dozes on and off with the cat on her lap, and during those naps, I scour the web on my laptop, learning all I can about her family’s company, King Heron Fishing, Val by visiting social media sites, and Cornaro news by scanning underground sites through a secure cloud based network. It lets me log into the dark web undetected.
She’s awake when Cash arrives for the evening check-in.
I get the grill going while he’s examining her. It keeps me busy while being close enough to take in everything going on.
He doesn’t stay long, and I follow him into the kitchen.
“What’s the verdict?” I’m hoping like hell for some good news.
“She’s doing well,” he says. “No sign of internal injuries or long-term muscular damage at all.” He nods to the archway that leads to the living room and front door, then leans in and whispers, “I left an envelope on the table by the front door. Take a look when you get a chance.”
“Wha—” Sensing someone’s footsteps in the breezeway, I change my question. “When will you be back?”
“Tomorrow as planned,” he says, nodding at Val in the doorway. “But call if you need me sooner.”
“Okay. Will do.” She nods and walks over to stand next to me.
Cash leaves. I dig out the ingredients for a salad to go with the fish I’m about to grill.
She’s hesitant when it comes to assembling the salad. I’m guessing it’s not because she doesn’t remember, but she’s probably never spent much time in a kitchen. Her family is loaded, wealthy beyond belief, old world blue blood that makes my nouveau riches look like a damn joke.
It’s likely she’s been served her meals by a maid and had them cooked by a chef. The full American princess treatment.
We eat, clean up, and then I put a nightgown Cash included with the clothes in the bathroom for her. After she crawls into bed, I grab her more pain pills and a glass of water.
After swallowing the meds, she stares at me for a long time.
I can’t look away.
Those golden eyes are mesmerizing. She’s so fucking beautiful and frail it hurts, this soft, confused young thing eyeing me like I can make all her worries vanish in a flash.
If only. Hell, just admitting how hot she is feels like a weird relief, considering I’ve been fighting it all day.
“Aren’t you coming to bed?” she asks, sitting up.
Shit. Here we go.
I shake my head, having decided I’d sleep upstairs in Bryce’s room. “Figured you’d be better off with the bed to yourself. I’ll sleep—”
“What? Why?” She shrugs. “It’s a big
bed, and...”
Oh, hell. Her cheeks go rosy pink, and then her words hit me right between the eyes. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Well, fuck.
When she looks at me with those big gold eyes, something happens. Probably the same thing that’s been happening ever since Cash pulled up and I carried her into my house.
My heart starts thudding, telling me I’m not as immune to her magic as I thought.
My hands clench at my sides, forming fists, like some screwed up secret prayer trying to save us both from a cataclysm.
“Please, Flint?” she whispers. “We’re married, aren’t we?”
Right. That whole thing, I think to myself. Where’s the sniper to put me out of my misery?
I’ll kick myself in the ass for this later.
“Okay,” I finally agree. Gritting my teeth at the way other parts of my body react, I tell her, “Just let me hop in the shower first.”
She beams like the sun, stroking the cat that followed us in here. It’s resting on the bed beside her. “We’ll be here.”
Just frigging great. Another adjustment, having to share my bed with a mini cheetah and a girl who just might make me hard enough to hit a home run.
I head to the bathroom, shaking my head as soon as the door’s shut.
No lie, this might be the toughest job I’ve ever taken on.
And that’s saying a fuck of a lot, considering the Cornaro Outfit made me wish I was dead once upon a time.
I’m not sure what worries me more as I stand under the waterfall showerhead, temperature set to glacial.
Is it the re-match with Cornaro guns making me freak?
Or is it Valerie Gerard’s sweet looks that could end me in a puff of flame and testosterone?
3
Turtle Tracks (Valerie)
I don’t know why I’m so scared, why I don’t dare be alone.
Sure, I guess the whole losing my mind and waking up in agony, magically hitched to the hottest man on the island might have something to do with it but...
Why does it feel like I can’t trust anyone but Flint? Because he’s my husband?
I have to keep reminding myself it’s true.
No denying it, the man could chase every Instagram beast on the planet under the table with his looks. This natural son of the sea, all seam-bursting muscle and icy-hot starshine stares and dancing ink I totally wouldn’t mind seeing up close and personal.
Forget the kind of man you wouldn’t mind chowing down on crackers in your bed. For him, I just might leave a whole fricking package.
But it’s more than just a schoolgirl crush.
He’s built, yeah, but he also has this powerful, mysterious aura. Like the air itself ignites with static every time he’s near. Maybe it’s too weird to describe perfectly, but I know what he does to me.
When he’s near, I feel safe.
And safe also means oddly relieved. I think I’ve been afraid for a long time, even if I don’t know why.
There’s so much I don’t know.
A sigh builds in my chest and my eyes flutter shut. I listen to the shower running.
Flint keeps telling me not to try so hard, not to push too fast, but not knowing anything about who I am sucks the big one.
Imagine if everything was gone.
All your happy summers. All the stuck-up mean girls who made your teen years hell. All your first kisses with boys you really liked. All your scabbed knees and butterfly sightings and surfboard rides and getting grounded by your parents and...even your own flipping wedding day.
Holy hell.
I should remember getting married, especially to a man like him. Whatever other mistakes I’ve made in my life, I can’t see how I went wrong here. Somehow, I landed the type of guy who’ll be there at three in the morning when a girl keeps yodeling up seawater, or at two in the afternoon when she just needs a nice tall drink of mango iced tea.
Honestly? It feels good to be that girl.
Even tumbling down this memory abyss, that much is obvious.
My lips curl into a smile, and I don’t fight it this time.
Same for the thought of having him in bed beside me, where I can lay my head on his shoulder and sleep the night away. That’s the other thing. I’m so exhausted. Can’t keep my eyes pried open for more than a few hours at a time.
Flint keeps saying sleep is the best cure, doctor’s orders, yada, yada, yada.
He’s probably right. I can’t fight the drowsiness when it comes in force. It’s like a big old heavy blanket that enshrouds me, pulling me under.
Kinda like now.
Just knowing he’s near helps me snuggle deeper into the blankets. I’m out cold before Flint even joins me, closing my eyes and letting the sandman carry me away.
* * *
My heart races so breakneck fast I feel it in my temples.
I’m totally petrified. But I have to get far, far away before it’s too late.
I’m in a boat, scrambling as I push on the throttle. The little skiff jerks across the water, skimming the waves in bumpy zig-zags that make my stomach churn. Somewhere around my feet, the cat cries, just as scared as I am.
We’re not far from shore, close to safety, but we’re not there yet. I have to haul butt. Faster!
There’s something rattling around behind me then, and suddenly—oh God, it’s in the ship!—I know we won’t make it.
I barely have a second to reach down, scoop up my furry baby, and take a leap of faith into the ocean chop.
There’s already bright orange flames spreading across the sea the second I come up for air. It’s everywhere, debris splintering and burning and smoking like we’re not even surrounded by the roaring Pacific. More like Hell’s own Lake of Fire.
The waves chase them back rapidly, though. So much water. Currents rushing by faster than I thought, invisible fingers slapping me across the face, trying to tear the poor soaked animal from my arms.
No!
I scream the cat’s name. Then I’m just...sinking.
It’s not like the movies. In currents like these, you don’t just slide under. You’re pulled down, fast and hard, and the worst part is, I’m not even crying for myself.
I’m crying for my lost cat, who doesn’t stand a chance in this maelstrom of salt and slapping waves.
It can’t go down like this. I have to find her, save her, somehow.
So I look up and swim with all my might, fighting for the surface.
My head hurts like a beaten drum, but I have to keep swimming. I have to find the surface.
My lungs are fire now.
Oh, God, I can’t breathe.
* * *
“Valerie?”
I hear Flint’s voice, but I can’t see him. Can’t find him.
I can’t breathe. My lungs are locked. It hurts so bad.
“Wake up, Val. Wake the hell up!”
My eyes fly open and scalding air gushes out of my lungs so hard I cough. Hunkered down beside me, Flint yanks me up, patting my back.
“Jesus. I...I had a nightmare. Flint, it was so—”
“Breathe,” he whispers. “Just breathe, honey. You’re safe.”
My lungs start working freely again, pumping oxygen in and out. I blink several times. Whatever had me so scared slowly vanishes.
“It was so real,” I mutter again, rubbing at my eyes.
“Just a dream,” he whispers.
Was it?
“I don’t know,” I say, sliding my hands down his back, taking just a second to love how huge he is, how shielded he makes me feel, this great big bear of a man. “It felt like a memory.”
He peels away just enough to give me a sharp look. “Don’t care what it was, Val. It’s not here and I am. If you dreamed up Old Scratch himself, I’ll kick his ass right back down to hell. Nothing’s gonna hurt you here, babe. Not through me.”
I actually smile. Amazing. But it’s like his strength bleeds into me, this raw, contagious confidence.
<
br /> Whatever else I’m doubting, I don’t think anything could make me question his words.
I twist softly in his arms and see the French doors hanging open, letting the cool ocean breeze inside. I hear it out there, the dark waves lapping against the sand and rocks on the shore in this soft, steady rhythm. I see the moon reflecting off the water.
It’s so beautiful. So peaceful. So tame.
Maybe he’s right. I have to trust him.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod. I am okay. I’ve got myself a manly cocoon of protection who just vowed to fight the devil himself. That has to win a guy some brownie points.
“Here, lie back down,” he says quietly, gently lowering me to the pillow. “I’ll grab you another Tylenol.”
“No, wait!” I grasp his arm. “Please don’t leave yet. I-I don’t need more pills.”
Slowly, he lays down beside me. I roll to my side and snuggle up against him. Lay my head on his chest.
He’s pure muscle, all smooth and freshly washed. I breathe deeper, finding comfort in the soapy smell, or maybe just in this imposing wall of a man.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say, stretching an arm over his chest. His bare skin is so warm, so firm. I nuzzle my cheek deeper into his chest. “It was just a bad dream.”
“I’ll ask Cash if it’s safe to get you some melatonin tomorrow. Or better, a nice stiff drink before bed,” he says with a wink. “Sleep, Val. I’ll wait till you’re out.”
I can smell the minty toothpaste on his breath, and that makes me smile. I wonder if it’s something else I always liked about him.
It’s all so odd, but at the same time it feels so right to be here snuggled up with his arms around me.
“Thank you,” I say. “For taking care of me.”
That’s truly how I feel. Grateful. I could’ve done worse, waking up with a lesser man who might’ve hoped I just drowned and never came home.
Sleep calls to me again.
Content and fully relaxed, I let it consume me.
* * *
Sunlight dances on my face in delicate bursts, telling me it’s morning and time to wake up.
