Just awesome. So much for making things less awkward.
“Um, thanks, Flint,” I mumble again, shutting the door a little too fast.
God.
Pulling myself back together, I decide on a bath rather than a shower, hoping a nice soak will help ease the lingering soreness in my muscles.
I need to relax. Right now, I’m too keyed up thinking about showering with Flint.
Maybe my brain can’t remember that joy, but I think my body does.
It’s not hard to imagine his huge, hulking body pinning me down.
The same corded muscle he used to banish my nightmares so tenderly last night could also do wicked things. The same calm blue eyes that seem so gentle could turn fierce in an instant. And that smart mouth of his…holy hell.
My knees tremble, imagining him stamping fire-kisses across my body. His lips, his tongue, his stubble with just the right scratchy goodness heading straight for my—
Yeah. No. We’re not going there.
Not when I’m in the thick of ninety-nine other problems. There’s no room for a handsome beast-man devouring me more greedily than I swallowed up those malasadas.
The long soak in the tub helps clear my head and put out the blaze between my legs.
After it, I put on the island wear dress hanging on the door. It’s dark blue with big yellow hibiscuses scattered across it. Then, minding the butterfly stitches at my temple, I dry my hair and pull it back in a ponytail. Searching the drawers doesn’t turn up a single hair binder.
Weird. You’d think I’d have a few laying around. But maybe ponytails aren’t my style?
Leaving my hair hanging loose, I leave the bathroom. A sense of longing hits me when I glance at the bed that’s been made.
Tired again. Ugh.
I hope this crap gets better. It’d be nice to spend a full day without napping more than the cat. Deciding to fight it awhile, I go hunting for Flint and find him outside.
He’s sitting at a small table with his laptop.
A yawn hits hard, and I can’t hold it back.
“Have a seat,” he says. “You look dog-tired. Don’t fight it. Cash says sleep’s the best medicine.”
“If that’s the verdict, I should be in perfect health by now,” I say, plopping down on one of the comfy lounge chairs. “I’m just tired of this, but I can’t seem to stay awake.”
“Just close your eyes for a little while,” he says. “I’ll be here.”
“Flint, I don’t want to—”
“Val. You, sleep, now.” Those blue eyes are so full of it, but they’re also kind.
“Fine. But later, you start talking in complete sentences, okay?”
He grunts loudly. Full caveman style.
I can’t help but laugh, and somehow, laughter just takes more out of me.
Fine, Mr. Sea Glass. I’ll play along.
I close my eyes and tell myself I’ll just relax for a few minutes.
* * *
When I wake up, there’s a light throw blanket covering me from head to toe.
I tuck it under my chin and close my eyes again, just for a few minutes, waiting for the last dregs of drowsiness to pass. Maybe it’s my memory, trying to shine through like headlights through a thick, soupy fog.
There’s something right on the edge of my mind.
Something significant.
The accident again?
It’s this quiet, needling urgency. Like my brain needs to work now to fend off disaster.
I reach up and press my palms to my temples, fighting this dread sinking weight in my belly.
“Val?”
I open my eyes. Flint stands next to my chair with a glass of tea.
“Yeah, just waking up. I’m fine.” Savanny is still sleeping on my legs and I don’t want to disturb him, so I carefully fold back the blanket and take the glass.
“You sure?” His gaze cuts through me.
There’s no point in hiding it. I’m very not fine.
After a couple long refreshing sips, I ask, “The accident…were you there with me?”
“No,” he says slowly, tilting his head. “I was tied up.”
It’s still there. That hint of something heavy.
I feel like the steady, resonate slap of the ocean washing ashore in the distance just makes it stronger. It has to do with water. Lots of water.
“What was I doing out there, anyway? You said it was a boat. Do I work with boats? Or shipping? Do I spend a lot of time on the water?” I feel like I’m searching, grasping for another memory nugget, but I can’t quite find it.
He takes the glass from me, thankfully.
My hands are shaking. I look down and see goosebumps covering my arms.
Holy hell. Why would a few easy questions do this?
“You getting another inkling?” he asks.
“I don’t know, actually.” I press a hand to my forehead. “Almost.”
I shake my head. Frustrated and a little scared.
“Easy, babe. You do too much thinking before you’re ready and it’ll just get you pissed all over again.”
“I know. I just…I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like that annoying little blue circle thing on the computer or TV when something’s trying to load. That’s my grey matter. Searching, but not finding a connection. Everything just spins.”