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“Be ready to leave in half an hour.”
I’ve always wondered what the beach would look like in England. Whether it would be pebble or sand. This one is sand. A long, golden stretch of it along the coastline, with a giant pier housing a fairground reaching out into the rough sea.
I’ve been to the local town plenty of times now. But the lawyer Dax needed to see was here, further away. He drove us down as I stared out of the window, and he stayed silent. It wasn’t much better at the lawyer’s, with him only speaking about work things and the paperwork we had to sign. It was all a rush because there was an accident and we got stuck in traffic. They stayed open for us, but it’s already late, so we will probably be heading back soon.
I look along the sidewalk to where Dax is on the phone, his brow furrowed as he shakes his head, his body language tense as he stares at the ground and paces up and down. He looks up and locks eyes with me for a split second, then barks something into the phone and ends the call.
“The road is still gridlocked.” He walks to where I am sitting on a bench and turns, hands on his hips to look out at the sea. White crests swirl and crash against the base of the pier as the wind picks up more.
“A slow drive back, then?”
“We could get some dinner. It might give it time to clear.”
I look up at him. His hair matches the sand, golden and warm. But everything else is dark. His black suit, his black shirt, the closed expression on his face.
My stomach growls as if on cue and one side of Dax’s lips twitch.
“Dinner it is, then,” he says.
“Fine,” I mutter as I stand, smoothing my pencil skirt down over my hips.
We find a restaurant and eat together. I make small talk about work, which Dax engages with. But it’s stifling, sitting at a table with him, surrounded by couples and people on dates while we are sat like two total strangers, each not wanting to say what they are thinking to the other.
I walk out onto the sidewalk, sucking in the evening air in relief as Dax pays and we leave.
“You ready to go back?”
“Sure,” I reply, looking off up the street so I don’t have to meet his eyes.
“Rose.”
“What?” I snap, turning to face him.
He shakes his head, his eyes dropping to my lips.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? I’m not doing anything.”
“Why are you acting like you can’t stand to be around me? Ever since last night…” He lowers his voice and steps closer as a couple pass us. “You’ve been acting pissed at me.”
“Because I am pissed at you.”
“What did I do?” His eyes darken.
“You…” I search for the right words.You confuse me? You infuriate me? You turn me on like no one ever has before and it annoys me?
“Come here.” He grabs my wrist and pulls me down a small alleyway.
“What? Ow, Dax, that hurts.”
“Shh.” He presses his fingers to my mouth, and I stare at him as he pushes me against the wall, shielding my body with his as he cranes his neck, looking around the corner of the wall to the main street.
“Yes… yes. I know how to do it. I have Mr. Young’s file here.”
The voice grows closer.
I pull Dax’s hand away from my face. “Why are we—?”
