Page 69

I can feel his eyes boring into me, the anger radiating from his body. His mouth is set in a straight and firm line, leaving no room for argument. I know how this looks to him, and I don’t blame him for thinking the worst. Coming up on me and Anthony had to be the worst kind of shock.

My eyes dart around, looking for an avenue of escape, but the solid rock of a man standing in front of me isn’t giving an inch. Though I’d love to give into the temptation to run, Dax doesn’t look like he’ll allow that to happen.

Besides, I’m no coward.

“Are you going to come with me now or do I need to throw you over my shoulder and haul you out of here?” Dax asks dangerously, his eyes still glittering with barely kept-in anger.

With my hands on my hips, I take a step toward him. “You’d like to try that, wouldn’t you? So now, you’re going to be all Neanderthal cavemen and cart me off like you own me. I don’t think so.”

“Jess . . .” he says in warning. “I’m on the verge of losing my shit in front of all these people. You owe me some answers, and I intend to get them, but not here.” Without another word, he turns and starts walking toward the exit. He obviously expects me to follow him like some lost puppy dog. He stops at the doorway and waits.

And I follow him.

Like a lost puppy dog.

Because I owe him an explanation even if I don’t have one. I don’t even understand what happened here, either. I don’t know why Anthony showed up. How did he find me? I never told anyone where I was going.

I force my legs to move toward him. Just as I reach him, he twists at the waist and takes my hand into his.

Then, he’s off. He’s walking and dragging me along through the hotel lobby, down the long corridor, and out onto the walkway at the back of the hotel. I can barely keep up with his movements. His long stride is moving in double time, and my much shorter legs are almost at a run.

We’re outside now and half-running through the tables at the bar and grill area. Several couples look curiously our way as we pass, but Dax doesn’t notice. He’s intent on some unknown destination and determined to get there as fast as possible. It’s dark now, and the direction he turns down is just barely lit by some small landscape lights set along the path.

He finally slows down when we reach the end of the concrete pathway. He stops for a second and looks down at the wooden stairs leading to the beach. Seconds later, he drops my hand and leans down to take off his shoes.

“Take off your shoes,” he says brusquely.

Though the words make it seem like a request, his coarse tone suggests I should comply. I bend my leg and lift it up so that I can slip my nude-colored sandals off. I hold them loosely by the straps as I wait for Dax to finish taking his shoes off.

Even at this time of night, there are people, mostly couples, walking around on the beach. The weather is unseasonably warm for Santa Cruz. Even in late August, the evenings can be chilly. Not tonight. Tonight, people are walking around in shorts and t-shirts.

I look down at my sundress, picked out with Dax in mind. I decided to wear it because I like the way it looks on me. It’s a light fabric with flowers in different hues of purple that bring out the green of my eyes. The fabric is soft and fitted at the waist and flares out at the legs. It’s held up with little strings that are tied and knotted at the top of my shoulders. Even with the warmth of the night, I’m wondering if I should tell Dax I need to grab a sweater in case it gets colder.

One look at the stern lines on his face tells me that’s not the best idea right now.

He finishes with his shoes and tosses them over the railing and into the sand. He takes mine and does the same.

I’m not at all surprised when he takes my hand and rushes me down the stairs and into the sand. We are a good distance from the water, yet close enough to feel the salty breeze.

The silence is unnerving, and I know he’s upset, so I attempt to joke to lighten the mood. “Are we going on a romantic stroll on the beach?”

His piercing eyes stare me down with no sign of humor as his stride increases to an almost brutal pace. Even though I’m having trouble keeping up with him, I know he needs to work off his anger.

After what seems like hours, but is probably only twenty minutes, I tug on his hand.

“Dax?”

“I’m not ready to talk yet,” he says.

“Come on, just slow down. I’m not dressed for a workout, and I’m having to jog to keep up with you.”

He slows and glances at me. I see his expression soften just a touch. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just have a lot of pent-up energy right now, and I . . . I don’t know how to handle it.”

I nod. “I understand. Let’s just walk a bit. Okay? Not jog.”

He doesn’t acknowledge my words but slows the pace, and we continue walking.

We’re far from the hotel now and haven’t seen another person in several minutes. There are no other hotels around, either, from what I can see. We’ve reached a part of the beach that is rocky. Up ahead, large walls of rock separate us from the next part of the beach, giving us only a little more room to walk.