Chasing The Sun (Angel Sands 7)

He’d never met anybody quite like her. Never felt the kind of pull he did every time she was near. It felt out of his control, and he didn’t like that.

Nah. That wasn’t true. He liked it too much. Like an addict drawn to their next fix.

The way his dad was always drawn to his mom, no matter how many times she walked away.

In the distance he could see a big swell moving steadily toward the breaking point. The kind of swell that would make his heart race if he was on a board right now. He’d paddle toward it, his eyes transfixed on the shape, working out exactly the right spot to ride the giant wave into shore.

Lydia had her back to the ocean, leaning down toward the sand as though she was searching for something to throw. She was close to the breaking waves, enough that her bare feet were covered with salt water every time they hit the shore.

Jacksons stood, walking toward the edge of his yard, and called out her name. Lydia looked up, smiling, and waved at him. He shook his head, pointing at the wave that was now lifting and foaming in readiness to break. From the shrug on her shoulders she had no idea what he was trying to say. Not until the roar of the rolling water hit her ears, and she looked over her shoulder at the oncoming surge.

Eddie chose that moment to jump at her again, knocking her over right as the wave broke. It poured over them both, obscuring them completely as the white water rushed up the beach.

By the time it receded, Eddie was happily swimming back with it, while Lydia was coughing and spluttering in an attempt to stand.

Shit.

Jackson ran down the cliff steps as fast as he could, his leg muscles lengthening and contracting rhythmically as he made it to the sand. She was bent over – damn, was she hurt? He sprinted toward her, his heart pummeling against his ribcage.

She looked up. Her hair was drenched and matted with sand and salt. Black mascara ran from her eyes and down her cheeks, like dark viscous teardrops. Her shorts and white t-shirt clung to her body like they never wanted to let go. He swallowed hard, trying to drag his eyes away from her soft, beautiful curves.

Lydia laughed. Not just a giggle, but a full-on roar. Her eyes crinkled, her body bent over, her hair cascading over her shoulders.

“You okay?” he asked, reaching out a hand to help her up. She curled her fingers around his, climbing to her feet, her body still shaking with laughter.

“Did you see that?” she asked. “Eddie got me good.”

“Yeah, I saw it.” Eyes on her face, man. “Did you swallow any water?”

“About a gallon.” She looked down at her wet clothes and up again. “I think I’ve got more water in my stomach than there’s left out there.”

Eddie suddenly noticed Jackson standing there, and let out a happy bark, bounding toward them both. “Sit!” Jackson shouted, not expecting it to work at all. But he did it, his tongue lolling out, his fur wet with brine.

The sun had almost disappeared. The air around them felt fresh, breezy. “You should take a shower,” Jackson told Lydia. He was still holding her hand. Funny how he felt in no hurry to let it go. “I’ve got some old clothes you can wear.”

“But I haven’t taken Eddie for a walk. We were too busy playing on the beach.”

Jackson glanced at the dog. He was panting, his eyes shining as he looked adoringly at Lydia. He knew how he felt. “He looks happy enough. And if he’s still full of energy later, I’ll take him then.”

She sighed. “I was supposed to be doing you a favor. Now I feel like I’ve given you more work to do.”

He grinned. “You’ve made me laugh, which is favor enough. And I think you’ve made Eddie’s day, too. It’s getting cool. Come up and get showered, then I’ll drive you home.”

9

Jackson handed Lydia

a towel from his heated linen cupboard in the hallway, and pushed open the bathroom door. The interior was masculine and calm, with black tiled walls and a grey tiled floor, the chrome fittings so shiny she could see a rounded reflection of her face in them.

“Wow, this is clean,” she said, holding the warm towel against her drenched skin.

“You sound surprised.”

She bit her lip. “Most guys’ bathrooms I’ve seen are grubby. I wasn’t expecting it to be so… nice.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended by your assumptions, or curious about how many guys’ bathrooms you’ve seen.” He winked at her, and damn if it didn’t make her heart skip a beat. “But instead, I’ll admit that the cleaner came today. And this is the guest bathroom. Mine is messy and full of crap.”

“In a weird way that makes me feel better.” She smiled. He was so damn easy going. And tall. She hadn’t realized how tall until she was in her bare feet beside him. It wasn’t her fault that her eye line was almost exactly at his chest. Well, it was if she lowered her gaze just a bit. And that action was worth it, because the black henley he was wearing was tight enough for her to see the outline of his chest through it.