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When he looked over at Aine, she was looking at him too.
“Walk me out?” he asked her.
“Uh…sure.”
He thanked Razor and Ava, told them he’d be back the next day, and put his hand on the small of Aine’s back as they walked out the door.
“I had a nice time tonight,” he said, trying to sound more like her friend than her lover, but having a hard time not falling into the rhythms of when they used to be a couple.
“I did too. It was so good to see Quinn again.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“I heard.”
“Will you be okay with me being around so much?”
She shrugged. “I might not be.”
He looked into her eyes. “Still leaving?”
“No. I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice.”
“I get it, but I meant what I said before, Aine. I want us to be able to be friends.”
“Are you friends with all your previous lovers?”
Striker had to think about it for a minute, but yeah, he was with the ones he still saw occasionally, like Merrigan.
“Goodnight, Striker,” she said before he could answer or give in to the temptation to kiss her goodnight.
The drive from Razor’s duplex to Harmony was short, but like Mercer said about the place, it wasn’t a house he’d miss staying in if there was another option. Maybe tomorrow he’d see if he could find something closer to the beach, so he’d be able to enjoy his time here a little more.
When Aine said she liked to listen to the ocean before she went to sleep, he’d envied her. Maybe he could rent a place where he could open up the sliding doors, or even windows, and listen to the waves crashing all night long. He doubted if they would actually lull him to sleep, and if they did, he wouldn’t stay that way for very long. In his line of work, sleep was a luxury, whether it was because you were on a mission or because you were reliving a past one.
“What the hell am I doing?” he said to himself. He turned the car around and drove back to Moonstone Beach. He drove up to Cambria Shores Inn and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the vacancy sign lit up. There was no reason for him to stay in a shit-hole safe house until he found a place to rent. Instead, he’d stay here, the place where he and Aine had stayed the first time they were intimate.
“Griffin Ellis,” he told the woman behind the desk when she asked for his name.
“Mr. Ellis, welcome back. It’s so good to see you again.”
He couldn’t say for certain that he remembered seeing her before, but he had had quite a lot on his mind the last time he was here.
“You’re in luck. Room four is available if you’d like it.”
“Sure. Thanks,” he responded, not knowing whether it was a good idea to relive every detail of being here with Aine.
Once he had the key, Striker moved his car to the parking spot in front of the room and carried his bag inside. The old motor lodge had been refurbished a couple of years ago with new furniture and bathrooms. He wasn’t sure if the fireplace had been there all along and they’d refaced it, or if it had been added. Either way, it was a nice touch.
The best part, though, was that he could step outside his door and feel the mist from the ocean on his face. With the window open, he could hear the same waves crashing that he imagined Aine was hearing.
He closed his eyes and pictured her lying on the bed, the windows open even though it was chilly, or even sitting out on the deck of the house, like she had in Yachats.
Pulling back the comforter, Striker couldn’t help but remember the last time he’d been in this same room, only then he’d been with Aine.
The look of vulnerability on Aine’s face had the opposite effect of the one it should have had on him. His need only accelerated when he thought about how nervous she was. He stood in front of her, taking the pins out of her hair and dropping them on the table next to them.
“I’ve thought about weaving my fingers in your hair so many times,” he said, stroking gently at first, knowing soon he wouldn’t be able to be.
