“Tall, handsome, and a lock stock memory, too.” The little imp narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re quite the package, Mr. Twombley.”
“I listen. Because…you matter to me. But if you don’t understand that by now, you’re never going to.” I leaned over more, to really grab her attention. “And I’d be happy to reacquaint you with my package, Ms. Gibson.”
The red flush—the one I was completely addicted to coaxing from her—spread across her chest and moved up her neck. If we weren’t in the middle of a crowded patio in the heart of Honolulu, one more illicit comment or perfectly placed kiss or bite, and she’d go slack in my arms. My cock swelled painfully in my shorts at the thought, but fortunately she’d gotten back to girding herself for the confession at hand. Or whatever it was. After tossing back the rest of her beer like a frat boy, she sat up straighter and directly met my gaze.
“Okay, here goes.” She searched my face for a long moment, and I silently gave her all the strength I could. Not that she actually needed it. She was one of the strongest people I knew. I just wished she’d believe that too. “I—well, I went ahead and joined an online support group.”
She took a deep breath and held it. She frantically studied my face for a reaction.
“Hey. Breathe, baby, so you don’t hyperventilate. Please.”
She shook her head as if my request had been in ancient Greek. “Breathe?” she sputtered. “That’s seriously all you have for me here?”
“Of course not.”
But she wasn’t any calmer as I stood abruptly and moved into the empty chair to my right, repositioning myself right next to her. No way could I accept this news from her with nothing but a polite smile and a few pats on her hands. This was huge. Important. A gigantic, courageous step forward. I had to show her that, with all my actions as well as my words. She had to feel every ounce of my sincerity, pride, and admiration. Nothing else would be sufficient. I was committed to the cause despite her bewildered gasp as I firmly wrapped her hands in mine.
“Grant? Wh-What are you—”
The wooden legs of her chair protested when I gripped her seat and dragged her to face me. With my knees, I formed brackets on either side of hers. I hoped like hell I wasn’t scaring her with my exuberance, but shit…I couldn’t help it. This was the first move toward self-help she had ever made. While it was a small step, it really was a fucking step, and I wanted to acknowledge the achievement. Most of all, I yearned to celebrate her.
“I’m so damn proud of you,” I affirmed, delving my gaze as deep into hers as I could. Her wide, inquisitive irises were kissed with flecks of gold thanks to the Hawaiian sun, and I added it to the mental list of things I would miss when we left here.
“Do you want to tell me more about it?”
Of course, our server arrived at that exact moment with our meals, and while I wanted to continue our little two-person commemoration, her attention fractured the moment the food arrived. I couldn’t help but share the distraction. We were both hungry after being on the town all morning, so I swiveled my chair back toward the table, and we wasted no time tucking into the plates set in front of us.
While we enjoyed our lunch, I let Rio set the conversational pace. She explained what led her to join the support group of other young Southern California widows. I was hoping, in small part, the support group she’d found was for pyromania and similar addictions, but Rome wasn’t built in a day, and I was grateful for this much. It was also quite possible that the issues surrounding her hobby needed to be handled with a therapist in a one-on-one setting.
This group was an outstanding move forward. I was more positive about that as she started filling in the details. Since the group was online, she could choose to attend meetings every day or as infrequently as once a month. They also met in person on occasion, but she wasn’t ready to commit to that sort of interaction yet. Or at least that’s how she explained it.
“I’m proud of you, Rio,” I repeated and meant it twice as much as before. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know. I know I don’t have the experience you’ve had.” I shook my head. “The only ‘significant person’ I’ve lost by societal standards was more an anchor on me than a set of wings. But I want to see you live fully and healthily again.”
“Thank you, Grant.” The amber flecks in her eyes were clear and joyous. She released a breath like a hundred pounds left her at the same time. “You’ve been such an amazing friend through all of this. I mean it. I don’t deserve you in my corner.”
“Bullshit,” I flung, until she leaned closer to peck my cheek. That part was bullshit too, because now I absolutely needed to feel her lips on mine. I told her so by palming her cheek and tugging her over once more. Her lips beneath mine… Holy shit, the island gods really were smiling on me today. Her mouth was warm and sweet and welcoming, meaning it was damn near impossible to keep the gesture chaste in the middle of the restaurant patio, but ideas began to flood me for what we could do back on the boat.
By the time we returned to the yacht, we had full bellies, tired eyes, and sore feet. Neither one of us was used to walking very far in our workday, though Rio did spend much of hers on her feet. But my heart was lighter than it had been in weeks. I finally had hope again for a future that included a healthy existence for the woman I cared so deeply about—with emotions that were burgeoning more and more with every passing day. And while the magic of the Pacific and the spell of aloha certainly hadn’t been deterrents, I was damn sure my mind and heart would be right here, exactly in this space, if we were still in the normal bustle and burn of Los Angeles.
That was why I dared to keep feeling this way. To keep stoking the vision of a forever inspired by my beautiful Blaze. To keep holding out hope for what all this meant for her and me—together.
Because when she was ready—if she were ever ready—I’d be right here, waiting for her.
I wanted a shot at happiness with Rio Gibson. No. I demanded it. And I wasn’t going to give up until fate forked it over.
Chapter Ten
Rio
“And Abbigail? She’s doing okay?”
I strained to hear the side of the conversation I was privy to. Well, sort of privy to, seeing how I was currently eavesdropping on this part as well. Grant left me in the hot tub on the yacht’s lower aft deck with a promise to return quickly. That was before Sebastian announced his son had finally made his entrance into the world a few hours earlier in the day. But since he took the call, the almighty Shark had captured Grant’s full attention.
Jealousy was definitely not surging through my veins. Really…how ridiculous would that be? After all, if we were getting technical, Kaisan was my nephew, not Grant’s. So why wasn’t I the person taking the phone call with the fabulous news?
The answer was as close, but far away, as observing my reflection in the gentle swishes of the hot tub’s waters. I’d long since climbed out and turned off the tub’s jets but lingered at the edge with my feet in the light-aqua water.
Who was the woman returning my rapt gaze?