Sometimes, protecting her also meant protecting her from the truth.
“It’s too soon to feel in the clear. But I don’t feel stuck with you. I’m here because I want to be.”
“Good,” she said, tracing a swirl on my chest. “Getting stuck with you is by far the best part of this shit situation.”
The familiar pang of guilt twisted in my gut. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you wished you’d never met.”
“I wish I’d met you three years ago,” she said, wistful and kind of distant.
“No you don’t.” I chuckled, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Trust me. I’ve matured a lot in three years. Besides, you didn’t even live here then.”
“I might have moved here sooner,” she said, dreamy but with a tinge of sadness, tracing a circle over my chest.
“My mom had this poem in a frame on her nightstand,Desiderata,” I said, voice rough with memory. “I’d climbed into bed with her early in the morning, when Dad was already out fishing, and she’d read it to me. One line I always loved was:The universe is unfolding exactly as it should.”
“That’s beautiful. But…" She raised her head and gave a crooked smile. “You ever think the universe has a deranged sense of humor?”
Like bringing me the woman of my dreams wrapped up in my biggest nightmare ever? “Definitely.”
CHAPTER 18
JASMINE
The final two paintings for Paradise Key could have been called finished yesterday. But since I still had time to make them as perfect as possible, I’d been touching them up for two hours already. Inspiration wasn’t coming easy though. I stared at the canvas, waiting for the spot to jump out—the spot that’s missing a subtle hint that would set it off. But I got nothing.
The air smelled faintly of turpentine and saltwater drifting through the cracked window. My shoulders ached from hunching, and a thin film of sweat clung to the back of my neck.
“Hmm,” I said out loud, storing my brushes. “Maybe you’re really finished.”
Or maybe I was just hangry and apathetic. I decided that I should whip up some lunch and look at them with fresh eyes afterward. I pulled a container of leftover grilled chicken and a tub of Greek yogurt. I’d whip up a tzatziki sauce and throw it on a pita. My mouth was watering just thinking about it. I dug out dill paste and lemon juice, then rummaged through the bottom drawer for the cucumber I’d been meaning to eat. Under applesand oranges and sweet potatoes, I found the sad specimen well beyond its prime. Parts of it were virtually liquified.
“Eww.” I almost gagged, holding the oozing carcass as far out in front as I could all the way to the trash. After I dropped the mushy cucumber in the bin, I pulled the bag out and tied it in a knot. I started toward the door to take the trash out, but stopped to grab my car keys on the way.
Publix was three minutes away. Getting out of the house would do me some good. And I wanted the damn tzatziki.
On the way into the store, I remembered that I was also out of Kalamata olives, which would go great on this concoction I’d gotten myself so psyched up for. I made a beeline for the produce department and grabbed a cucumber and turned the corner to head down the back aisle to find the olives.
The chill of the meat section air prickled my damp skin. I was reading signs along the tops of the aisles to my left, so I didn’t notice the man in the meat section to my right until I nearly bumped into him. I swerved just in time, and he was busy comparing two trays of steaks so he didn’t notice me almost running into him. But by then I had gotten a good enough look at his profile to not believe my eyes.
“Kai?”
He looked up and I realized immediately. Of course it wasn’t Kai. Kai was out on a charter. “Reef,” he said with a pearly grin.
“Yeah, Reef. Sorry,” I shifted nervously. “I guess Kai was on my mind, even though I knew he was at work.” I bit my lip to stop me from saying anything even dumber.
“That’s what you buy when Kai’s on your mind?” He asked, eyeing the cucumber I held in a death grip with a suggestive smirk.
I waved it at him. “I’m making tzatziki.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” he chuckled. “And don’t worry, I don’t judge.”
Heat rose to my cheeks, but I was determined not to let him get the better of me. “You can judge my tzatziki all you want,” I snipped. “It’s fabulous.” I rolled my eyes at myself, wondering if the produce aisle sold muzzles.
“I don’t doubt that,” Reef replied, sounding slightly flirtatious.
My eyes narrowed but his stayed playful, even while staring intently for a few seconds that felt like years. My face flushed and my heart raced. Not from attraction, but from recognition—the kind of awareness you feel when someone holds the same dangerous secret you do.
“Angler’s Reef, huh?” I finally blurted. Reef’s brow creased, confused, but he said nothing. “I was surprised that you remembered that’s where my parents’ house is,” I continued. “Especially since I don’t recall ever telling you that, the morning we met in the kitchen at Kai’s place. Or anytime thereafter.”
