Then Comes Marriage (17 page)

“Isn’t it amazing how this place is beautiful even in the dark?”
 

Like you are
. “It is.”
 

We’re a decent distance from the hotel, and the shore isn’t perfectly smooth like it is near the resort. We carefully pick our way over rocks until we land in wet sand. We both take off our shoes, walking in ankle-deep water, going in the opposite direction of the hotel, but who cares?
 

I don’t.
 

“How old are you?” Rachel asks, kicking at the water.
 

“Thirty-one.”
 

“You’re old.”
 

“With age comes experience.” I smirk. “How old are you?”
 

“Don’t you know that, Mr. Stalker?”
 

“Humor me.”
 

“Twenty-four,” she tells me and bends over, picking up a rock and tossing it into the water.
 

“Favorite color?”
 

“Blue.”

“I like yellow,” she says. “And black. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. I came here with no plans.”
 

“I had plans. Nothing grueling, but there was stuff I wanted to see.”
 

“Like what?” I ask.
 

“I wanted to do the whole road-tripping the Road to Hana thing.”
 

“Why don’t you go?”
 

She watches the water and takes in a deep breath. Moonlight streams down above us and the crashing of the waves against the rocky shore is as hypnotic as the sway of Rachel’s hips. “It’s not really something you do alone.” A moment of defeat crosses her face. She blinks, long lashes coming together, then shakes her head and smiles.
 

It’s the fake smile, and it’s to convince herself.
 

“If you want—” I stop myself. What am I doing? She might not want to spend more time with me.
 

“Yes,” she says. “I’d like that.” Wind tousles her hair. “I have a rental car already booked too. I have a lot of stuff already booked. Do you like hot stone massages?”
 

“I’ve never had one.”
 

“They’re nice. Not quite as relaxing as a regular massage, in my opinion.”
 

“I’ve never had one of those either.”
 

Even in the dark, the shock is obvious on her face. “You’re just talking professional here, right? You’ve had your shoulders rubbed by…by someone I’m sure.”
 

“Yeah,” I say, though I can’t remember the last time anyone touched me. After Ben was born, life was all about him and making sure Deirdre was comfortable. I get a flash of his toothless smile, the way he’d wrap his little fingers around my thumb. Losing him broke me in more ways than one, and the day he left the walls went up. And a moat. Filled with sharks. I swore off love, never wanting to let anyone get close to me ever again.
 

“What is the Road to Hana?” I ask.
 

“You’re in Maui and don’t know what the Road to Hana is?”
 

“It appears so.”
 

She looks at me skeptically for another second. “It’s the Hana Highway that connects Kahului to Maui. There’s several stops along the way, mostly sight-seeing stuff.”

“I like sight-seeing stuff. I’d be happy to go with you.”
 

The smile is back and this time it’s real, not trying to convince herself of anything she’s not. “What’s your story?” she asks suddenly.
 

My heart skips a beat at her question. “What?” I blurt, feeling like she’s a fucking mind reader.

“Your story. Why did you become a detective?”
 

“Oh.”
Calm the fuck down
. “I wanted to be a cop since I was a kid. Never grew out of it, so I went to school and majored in criminal justice with a minor in forensic science and then got into the Police Academy. I never actually set out to be a detective, but after a few years of seeing so many murders, I wanted to be more involved I guess you could say. Plus, I look good in a suit.”
 

Rachel laughs. “I can’t argue with that.”
 

“Why did you become a nurse?”
 

“I like taking care of people,” she says with no hesitation. “And it’s a smart choice with pretty much a guarantee of finding a job, even if it’s not in your area of interest.”
 

“And what is your area of interest?”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “As long as I’m working with nice people I can adapt to pretty much anything. Which is good since I’m going to have to start applying for jobs when I get back.” She waves her hand in the air. “But let’s not even think about that.” She shudders. “Interviews. Ugh.”
 

A large wave rolls in, spraying both of us with cool ocean water. Instead of dodging out of the way, Rachel stands still, welcoming the little drops of water. She turns her head up to the sky above.
 

“So, Agent Mulder, what’s your take on sea monsters?”
 

“Sea monsters?” I echo. “I don’t believe in ‘monsters’ per se, but I think there are things in the ocean we haven’t discovered yet.”

“That’s logical. I think those giant sharks still exist. Megalodon or whatever.”
 

“Then I’m guessing snorkeling isn’t on your to-do list.”
 

Rachel laughs. “It’s not, but that’s because of the damage it can do to coral reefs.”
 

“I never would have even thought about that.”
 

“I didn’t either. My best friend is a huge animal rights activist. She said snorkeling can be really damaging to them. Did you know they’re animals? They look like plants.”
 

“I had heard that before.”

“And,” she goes on, drawing out the word, “if I’m being completely honest, I wouldn’t go snorkeling because I might be a little scared of said sea monsters.”
 

I can’t help but laugh.
 

“Seriously! You just said it yourself: you don’t know what’s in the ocean. Something could grab you and bring home for dinner. Humans don’t belong in the ocean.”
 

“I kind of agree with you there. We drown too easily.”
 

She nods and moves in front of a large rock that comes up right past her waist and is flat on top. Before I can warn her it’s slippery from algae and ocean water, she tries to jump up. I rush forward, kicking up salty water, and catch her.
 

“Thanks,” she says, leaning back in my arms. She tips her head up and I can’t help but lower mine to hers, getting closer and closer. Heat rushes through me, turning me on, and making me want something—desperately want something—I haven’t yearned for in far too long. I can’t take my eyes off of her and if her lips aren’t touching mine in the next three seconds, there’s going to be a problem.
 

But Mother Nature thinks otherwise, and a wave crashes into us, coming with as much force as it leaves. Rachel grabs me for balance, wrapping her arms around my neck. I tighten my hold on her and fight against the pull of the ocean.
 

The moment for kissing has come and gone. I take Rachel’s hand and lead her back to the shore. She takes her sandals from her bag and slips them back on, protecting her feet from the rocky sand.
 

“You said you went into nursing because it was a logical choice,” I start. “What would you have done if you weren’t worried about logic?”
 

She takes a moment to consider it. “Art of some sort. Maybe design. I like creating things, but I also like getting a paycheck.”

“Yeah, those are nice.”

“When you think about working and money, like really think about it, the whole thing is weird.”
 

We continue along the shore, this time headed toward the hotel. “What do you mean?”
 

“Like we spend so much time, so much of our life doing a job that most of us probably don’t like. And we do that for money because you can’t live without money, though it goes beyond paying for essentials. There’s so much frivolous stuff, and I think about it all the time since I very much enjoy a good shopping trip.”

“I’ve never put much thought into it before,” I confess. “But you have a point. We value material things so much that working extra to be able to buy them is normal.”
 

“Exactly! Lots of things are weird when you really think about it. Like houses?”
 

“Houses are weird?”
 

“Yeah. It’s this box we confine ourselves in. And we decorate them. Paint the walls, set moods in reach room. The point of a house is to protect us from predators and the elements, but we’ve taken it so much farther. It’s weird.”
 

“You’re making me think it’s weird now, too.”

“I think fashion is weird, too, even though I like it. Sometimes I hate how much value society puts on how we look.”

“So why do you blog about it?”
 

“Because of the value. Thinking you don’t look good, that your body isn’t enough can really make you feel like crap. And it’s awful to look in the mirror and hate what you see. If I can inspire someone to dress in a way that makes them feel good about themselves, then it’s more than worth it. But trends are definitely weird. Why do things go in and out of fashion? I’m glad they do. I would not want to be wearing a corset right now.”
 

“Corsets sound good in theory,” I say and earn and playful glare. “But you do look good in that dress. And you have an interesting way of looking at things.”

“I’m weird, remember?”
 

I take her hand, smiling at her in the moonlight. “And I like weird, remember? We’re all a little strange.”
 

“Some just show it more than others. What makes you weird?”
 

Does refusing to deal with, talk about, or move on from a tragedy in my past make me weird? No…that makes me pathetic, right? “I’m totally and completely normal. Well, other than the stalking.”

She laughs and, God, I love it when she does. Through the night, her blue eyes sparkle and I know no amount of darkness can dull the light.
 
I reach for her hand, heart beating so fast I can hear it pulsing through me, pounding in my ears. My throat is thick and I fear she’s going to pull her hand away.
 

I’m like a boy, touching a girl for the first time. I’ve never felt like this before. Not with Deirdre. Not with Melanie, my girlfriend before that. Not with anyone.
 

Just her.
 

Light from the hotel comes into view, and it’s disappointing. I liked being far enough away that it felt like Rachel and I were the only ones in the world. A crowd is gathered around the tiki bar, dancing to loud music.
 

“Want to check it out?” Rachel asks. “Looks like it might be fun.”

I nod and we head over, pushing through the crowd to the bar and order drinks. The place is packed, and while the bartender looks frantic, I know he’s making a killing from tips tonight. We squeeze through the sea of people back outside, standing to the side of the stage that’s holding the live band. We listen to the music and work on our drinks.
 

“Hey,” she says suddenly. “Want to dance?”
 

“I don’t dance.”
 

“Everyone can dance.”
 

“Not me.”
 

She takes another drink and cocks an eyebrow. “You got me to jump off a fifty-foot cliff today. If I can do that, you can do this.”
 

I finish my drink and smile. “Fine.”
 

Rachel tosses the plastic cups in the trash and takes my hand, leading me into the center of the crowd. I’m not a dancer. I don’t know how to dance. From moving my feet to what the fuck to do with my hands…I’m clueless. When Rachel’s hands go to my shoulders, I’m back to feeling like that inexperienced boy again.
 

“Relax,” she says and tosses her head back.
 

There wasn’t nearly enough alcohol in my drink for this. Apprehensively, I take her waist. With a little coaxing from Rachel, I start to move along with her to the music. And with a little dancing, I’m having fun.
 

The next thing I know, it’s 3 AM and the bar is closing. The last time I was out this late—that wasn’t because of a murder—was in college. Rachel gathers her hair into a messy bun at the nap of her neck.
 

“Well,” she say, biting her lip. “I guess we should head in, right?”

“Yeah. We should.”
 

Yet neither of us move. We’re standing still as the crowd of people disperses around us. The lights on the stage go out and thick linen shades are drawn on the tiki bar. We make our way into the hotel, going through the dimly lit lobby to the elevator.
 

“I’m on the fifth floor,” she says and pushes the number five button.

“Three,” I say. “But I’ll walk you to your room.”

She turns, and takes a step closer. Her breasts brush against my chest, and her lips part as she looks into my eyes. “I’d like that,” she whispers.

I lower my head to kiss her when the elevator doors spring open. Two drunk women stumble in, talking loud and laughing. Rachel shuffles away, clasping her hands together behind her back. We don’t speak on the short ride up. I’m watching Rachel, trying to read her every move, wanting to do things right.
 

She hasn’t dug into her purse for her room key yet. She hasn’t touched her purse at all. It’s been hanging off her shoulder all night, almost as if she forgot about it. The elevator dings and the doors open on floor number five. We walk down the hall in silence.
 

“This is my room,” she says, stopping in front of the door. My heart skips a beat and I know this is a defining moment. If I don’t kiss her now, I might never get the chance. Because not kissing her now could set the tone that I’m not interested, not lusting after her. Which is far from the truth.