Wrecked (Sons of San Clemente Book 2) (5 page)

H
ollis looked up at him, over the rim of her mug. He was offering her a reprieve. A place to stay, but in return she would be with him 24/7. At his beck and call. Seeing him. Talking to him. Breathing him in. A knot tightened in her belly.

“I could drive you to PT,” she said slowly. “But wouldn’t you be more comfortable at your own house?” Hope. “I could definitely grocery shop. Pick up take out meals for you, run errands.”

He leaned back in the couch, a muscle twitched in his jaw.

“What?”

He shook his head, but didn’t answer. Hollis felt cut down. He’d suggested it not her. It wasn’t as if she were all hot to be his errand girl for a few weeks. And she certainly didn’t expect him to pay her.

“I’m not going to my house,” he said. “Too big. Too exposed. Too many stairs. Too many people. Not close enough to the ocean.”

He made it sound like a Hollywood reality show. But probably his life was like that.

“Oh. Okay.” Her heart sank. Obviously she hadn’t been to this house. He had a whole life, new layers of history she knew nothing about. Obviously.

“But surely you have friends, so many who could—” She broke off at the dismissive scorn that washed over his face, shuttering him off from her, far away.

“And I don’t want to do this”—he glared at his injured leg—“in public.”

Hollis bit her bottom lip nervously and nodded. For someone who’d always been surrounded by people, he had always been reticent about some aspects of his life. She’d been one of his better kept secrets, she thought with a spurt of resentment.

“I can trust you,” he said. “You won’t send out tweets about my progress or post my PT workouts on Facebook or Instagram or a dozen other places.”

That was true. Even when she’d hated him, she wouldn’t have been able to betray him. Still, she was surprised that he still felt he could trust her and, that after everything they’d been through, he would admit his trust. Her heart thawed a little.

“No,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t post anything. You can trust me.”

Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was alert anyone to her presence back in San Clemente.

He smiled without humor. “I don’t know if it’s trust so much as it’s obvious you don’t want anyone to know you’re in town. You might want privacy even more than I do.”

He might as well have thrown coffee in her face. She wanted to storm off and get away from his mocking gaze, but her legs seemed too rubbery to propel her up, much less to march her across the deck and into the cottage. No need to be self-righteous, she mocked herself. It was all true. And she needed the time to think, but also something to do to get out of her head. But spending time with Kadan....

“So we have a deal.” The cut of his voice made it sound like a real estate transaction. “You’ll help me during my recovery, and I’ll keep your presence back in town a secret.”

It wasn’t like she had much choice, but being with Kadan in the cottage. Cooking for him. Driving him to appointments. Sitting with him and watching the sunset while grilling out. Spending so much time alone with him. How could she not fall in love again? Even though she knew the kind of man he was and the power he so effortlessly wielded over her body and her heart.

“C’mon, duchess where’s your spirit of adventure?”

“It’s not adventure I need,” she said. It was armor. Real and figurative. “Fine. But my reasons for being here are mine. Not sharing, so don’t even pry.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“Don’t.” She held out a palm as if to ward him off.

“Then don’t ask about the surgeries or recovery times.”

Hollis felt a river of dread run through her. It was bad then. Really bad. Career-ending bad?

He clinked his cup with hers.

“To secrets,” he said. “But not to lies between us.”

“Kadan, I never lied to you,” she said softly, wanting him even after all these years to believe her.

“A lie by omission is still a lie, but the past is the past. I don’t dwell.”

“God.” She shook her head. “Like it’s that easy.”

“It is. Just move on.”

As if. The past kept jumping out at her around every corner. But that was Kadan. Stronger. More disciplined. Less emotional. She could never match him for adventure. He jumped on waves the size of buildings and rode them like they were horses. She kept stumbling through life. Falling over and struggling to her feet only to get pushed down again. She couldn’t even swim in the shallows anymore.

She had to stop thinking. The past was the past.
Don’t dwell.
Wasn’t that some lyric from an eighties dance song? Her roommate in med school had been all into new wave or whatever the eighties had been called. And ‘I’d better not catch you with someone else’ had definitely been part of it too. Well, she’d caught Kadan with plenty of someone elses.

“So.” She stood up, needing to get away from him and all the memories. “I’m going to take a shower. Then we should discuss our...our arrangement.”

He nodded. Gulped the rest of his coffee and handed her the mug. She took it, rolling her eyes. It made sense, but still fetching for him was going to make her feel like the family dog.

“I hope you heal quickly,” she said.

“Very,” he said. “In the right circumstances.”

“Can’t wait to hear what those are.”

H
ollis let the hot water run over her for longer than she should. This was Southern California. Drought. Always. She should turn off the water in between shampooing and conditioning, but it felt so good as if she were washing away Kadan and his plan. Washing away the last year. Her last failure. And the one before that. The heat relaxed her taut muscles, and the fragrance of the tea tree oil shampoo she’d made smelled so fresh and good. Showering always made her feel like she could start over, fresh. If only.

But the guilt over water usage overrode her pleasure, and she turned it off even though she could have stood there for a half hour just letting the water pour over her and wash all her thoughts and fears and negative energy down the drain.

She twisted her hair to wring out the excess water and then stepped onto the orange-grey slate floor and reached for a large fluffy grey towel. She closed her eyes and sighed. The towel and the bathroom was a luxury she’d forgotten since leaving home so many years ago to strike out on her own. She massaged her homemade lotion into her skin and then tucked it back in her cotton cosmetic bag.

“Great,” she muttered, realizing she’d been in such a hurry that she hadn’t brought her clothes in with her. Hopefully Kadan would still be out on the deck, although watching the morning surfers might burn when he couldn’t join them although this was not the beach where the good waves usually hit.

“Duchess.” He greeted her as she opened the bathroom door.

He stood on his crutches. He looked amused, but she could see the white line of strain around his lips and she forced down her worry.

“If I am going to be running errands for you, then you’d better ditch the hated nickname.” She informed him and headed for her duffle bag.

Even as she passed him, she felt his sexual pull. Chills ran up her spine and the hair on her neck and arms stood up. She felt a low pulse between her thighs as if an engine were trying to start up. It had been so long, she didn’t know if she still remembered what to do.

Stop
, she ordered herself and squeezed her thighs together as if that would somehow stop the chain reaction. She was pathetic.

“Ivy no longer applies as you don’t cling, but you are still proving to be invasive.”

She pulled on a black tank not bothering with a bra since he was right there and to get back to the bathroom for some privacy would mean she had to parade by him in a towel again.

“This is more my home than yours.” She groused, stepping into some black panties.

“I was invited.”

Of course he didn’t sound defensive, but she felt it. She could feel her heart rate speed and her breathing catch, go shallow. She was staring at thirty. When was she supposed to get all this wisdom? Control? Confidence?

“Standing invitation.” She pretended indifference and roughly pulled on a pair of black capri leggings with little Anime buttons on the side cuffs that she’d made and had sewn on. “You could try using my real name.”

“Hollis. It doesn’t suit you. Never liked it.”

“Too damn bad. Breakfast?”

“I’d like a shower first.”

“Okay. Have at it. I’ll make a smoothie for you.” She was already pulling out her small bullet blender.

“Hollis.”

Her name. Not good. She turned around, trying to keep a calm expression on her face.

“Kadan.”

“I’m going to need some help.”

“In the shower?”

Her heart thumped madly. Kadan. Wet. Naked and wet and slippery. And she’d be holding on to him. Angling the showerhead to get him clean. Helping him to soap up. Her vividly visual imagination soared.

“Showering with me never proved so horrifying in the past,” he said drily.

“But...” She gestured desperately as if trying to scoop up the past six years and all the fights between them.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to ask before you showered, but you took off so quickly.”

She bit back a curse. Of course she had. She’d been trying to get away from him. And now she was back with him, only now he’d be naked.

She forced herself to look at him. That was a mistake. He stood there so straight. Proud. His face impassive, but she could read the pain he was trying to hide.

Something brittle in her broke.

This was Kadan. Independent. Arrogant. Competitive. Hard. But always the first to help out a friend. And now he needed help, but he didn’t want to ask for it. But he
needed
it. And here she was, getting all pervy about seeing his body, touching him. Already she could feel the heat between her thighs, the gathering moisture, so achingly familiar when he was around.

And, of course, he knew what he still did to her. He certainly hadn’t been subtle or quiet about his prowess turning her on in the past. She’d been a light switch to him, and he knew it. Loved it. He used to drive her crazy with desire just whispering in her ear about how he loved knowing how she was always ready for him, always wet, always eager, no matter when or where. And then he would dip his finger inside her panties to prove his point and, holding her hot gaze, he would put his glistening finger in his mouth and smile and whisper “mine.”

She jumped. Why did she have such a visceral memory? And why could her mind just never shut up?

“Ah, shower. Yes.” She stumbled past him.

A chair. A chair from the deck that could get wet. That would be the professional thing. He could sit and shower alone.

Hollis practically raced outside, found a stack of plastic chairs on the side of the deck, and carried one back inside. By the time she had the chair in the shower, her brain had almost snapped out of its sexual stupor.

“Okay. Shower,” she said brightly as if he were a confused old man and she a new nurse.

She’d been a professional once. Before she lost it. Spectacularly. Humiliatingly and unforgivably. But she could do this.

He swung himself into the bathroom after her. The room seemed to shrink to half the size and Kadan dominated the space. She could hardly breathe. Not a panic attack here. Not in front of him.

“Okay, I’ve, um, moved the shampoo and body wash close and took the shower head off so you could angle it where you want and...I’ll stay close in case you need—” She broke off as he started to peel off his shorts. “Aren’t you going to wear your shorts?” she squeaked.

He paused and his lips ghosted into a smile. “Do you shower with your clothes on?”

“Well, no, but...ah, let me just squeeze by and step out.”

“Not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

Her throat felt so dry she couldn’t swallow.

“And touched me.”

There was a roaring in her ears.

“And showered with me.” His voice was pure smoke and her vision began to darken.

“What the hell, Hollis? Breathe.” All of a sudden he pushed her head down between her legs. “Breathe. In and out.”

She stared at the beautiful slate floor. She’d helped her grandmother pick out this slate. She’d chosen it because the blue streaks in it matched Kadan’s eyes when he was teasing her. And the orange was for the fire between them. Two tears leaked out of her eyes and splashed on the slate. Don’t let him notice.

But no, he noticed everything. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

This time
remained unspoken. What would he say or do if she told him the truth?
All of it
.

She sucked in oxygen like she was a middle-aged, out of shape, runner back on the treadmill for the first time in a few months. Then she forced herself to stand up and face him.

His beautiful, sculpted lips were tight, his eyes sparked with frustration.

“You’re a physical therapist, Hollis. I thought this would be a fucking breeze.”

“Of course it is,” she said quickly.

Just keep breathing
She wanted to get this over with and prove to herself she was, once and for all, over him.