But she could read the old documents for the guys from anywhere. And even though it would break her heart to leave, she didn’t know if she could stand staying, what with—
She felt his presence behind her before she heard his footfall.
“Alex?” His deep voice was soft. His tone inquisitive.
She clutched the broom handle tightly and briefly squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to prepare herself for the visual onslaught that was Mason McCarthy. Turning slowly, she made extra sure what was in her heart didn’t show on her face. “Yeah?”
“It’s lunchtime.”
She wondered what her response should be to this seemingly inane bit of information. So it is? Bon appétit? Did you know the abbreviation “lunch” is taken from the Northern English word “luncheon,” which is itself derived from the Anglo-Saxon word “nuncheon” or “nunchin” meaning “noon drink”?
For a woman usually brimming with words, she suddenly was at a loss in coming up with anything appropriately frivolous or pithy. Also, a noon drink sounded pretty good right about now.
“I made BLTs,” he added.
She nodded hesitantly. “Ohhh-kay. Should I tell everyone to come—”
“No.” His eyes were so intent on hers, she couldn’t have looked away even if she wanted to. “Only made enough for you and me. Thought we could have a picnic.”
Her mouth fell open and a breeze picked up a strand of her hair, depositing it inside. She pulled it out at the same time she croaked, “Why?”
A line appeared between his eyebrows. “’Cause we’re friends, right?”
She blinked. Friends? He still wanted to be friends?
Well, of course he did. Because in his mind, he’d done nothing wrong. In his mind—
“And I didn’t sleep with Donna,” he added, and her jaw unhinged a second time. The wind saw the move as another invitation.
My right boob for a hair tie! she thought wildly as she yanked a strand of hair from her mouth again. The beach house ate her ponytail holders. That was all she could figure.
He looked away, out toward the beach where Wolf and Chrissy stood fishing. “It didn’t hit me ’til I was packing the picnic what you musta thought when I showed up with her at the airport. That’s what you meant, right? When I wished you a good morning and you said it musta been a good one for me?”
All she could manage was a nod.
His expression turned pained. “I shoulda thought. Shoulda…” He swallowed and shook his head. “Taken a damn cab.”
H-h-holy shit!
He hadn’t slept with Donna. Note, he hadn’t said he wouldn’t sleep with Donna. Because of course he would. At some point. He and Donna were…well, whatever they were. But he hadn’t kissed Alex and then run to get his rocks off with someone else.
Alex knew it was ridiculous to feel delighted about something not happening while knowing it likely would happen many times in the future. But she was happy.
She hadn’t been wrong about him! He was all things good and brave and wonderful!
Considering the raucous nature of her inner celebration, she was surprised—and sort of proud of herself—when her voice came out calm. Dare she say serene?
“While I’m happy you didn’t kiss me and then go bounce Donna around, because that would’ve been skeevy and proved you weren’t the guy I thought I knew, you have every right to sleep with her whenever you want. She’s your…” She scrunched up her nose. “Whatever you call her. Your lady friend. I’m just your regular friend, right?”
Funny, if you’d asked her last night if she could be happy being nothing more than his gal pal, she would’ve answered with a resounding no. But now? After having spent the last couple of hours thinking the worst of him? After thinking she’d never truly known him? Not to mention the idea that she might not be able to be around him and would have to leave the home and family she’d made for herself here on the island? Well, now the thought of being his friend sounded just fine. Better than fine. It sounded great!
Her love would remain unrequited. But that would be the extent of it.
It was as if a weight had lifted.
“I was with her this morning ’cause I ended things with her,” he muttered.
Alex’s chin jerked back so quickly she was surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash. “Why?”
He frowned as if carefully considering his words. “Our kiss made me realize how wicked good it can be between two people who really care about each other.” Cayah ’bout each awtha. “I didn’t wanna be the reason Donna held herself back from finding that for herself.”
Alex’s lips parted. For a guy who so rarely strung more than a handful of sentences together, he sure had a way with words when he set his mind to it.
* * *
11:45 a.m.
“Did you know Spain called the Florida Keys ‘Los Martires’? It means ‘the Martyrs.’ Why do you think they gave such beautiful places such tragic names?”
For the past ten minutes, Mason and Alex had been hiking through the mangrove forest behind the beach house, past Uncle John’s marijuana patch, headed toward the small secluded beach at the back of the island. During each and every one of those minutes, Alex had regaled him with facts.
Truly, she hadn’t stopped talking to draw air. And Mason had been perfectly content listening to her chatter. But now she’d been quiet for a full five seconds, which meant her last question hadn’t been rhetorical. She was waiting for him to answer.
“Maybe ’cause they were home to pirates who preyed on the galleons sailing from Central America to the New World.”
She stopped in her tracks.
“What?” He frowned back at her.
“How do you know that?” Her eyes were wide behind the lenses of her glasses. “Did you read that book I left on the kitchen table?”
“You were pretty adamant we should, and I quote, ‘Educate ourselves on the amazing history that surrounds the place where we live and work.’” He chucked her on the chin and then immediately regretted it because…soft. Alex’s skin was so frickin’ soft.
He curled his hand into a fist and dropped it to his side.
“But I’m always leaving books around and telling you guys to read them. I didn’t think any of you ever took me seriously.”
“I do,” he said simply. He took her very, very seriously.
“Well, holy hell.” She shook her head in wonder.