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He stood up and held out his hand.
She frowned at it. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking a stroll down memory lane, and I want my wife to come with me,” he said honestly.
She looked at him for a long moment, and Grant was getting worried she’d tell him to fuck off, but she finally took his hand and he led them to the dance floor. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. Feeling her hips sway just like they had six months ago on the ship to this same song.
He breathed in her hair, closed his eyes for a moment, and felt what he knew to be the same love he’d had that night months ago. Hannah was it for him. Fit him perfectly. And he held tighter. Hoping the rest of life and all the complications would somehow work out.
She moved with him. Melted into him. Her skin hot, her sweet voice quietly singing along to the song as she danced with him.
Haiti was hot but overcast, and Hannah was walking through her first country outside the United States. The ship had docked a few hours ago, and she’d run off. Well, she’d stealthily walked and was now somewhere between a forest and a beach and . . . She glanced down at her phone. No service. No GPS. No problem—she’d figure it out. The ocean was where the ship was, and surely she could find her way back. She needed the air. She wasn’t avoiding Grant. Okay, she kind of was. Only because he was so intense. Rather, he made her feel intensely.
“That doesn’t even make sense,” she said to herself. More to her inner thoughts. This man made her feel intensely? What the hell did that even mean?
She couldn’t pinpoint a single emotion, because her whole body was still humming from last night. Feeling his skin, tasting his tongue, hearing his voice right against her ear when he commanded her to come. He was raw and rough and consuming, and she’d loved every minute. Replayed their time together over and over.
Which was stupid.
Because this was only day two on a cruise, and no one could make a connection this fast. She’d come on this trip to get a grip and take control of her life. Because she could only count on herself. She knew better than to fall. In any way. She couldn’t fall for her father’s endless excuses and con jobs. Couldn’t fall for the promises of her boss that one day she could buy the bar she loved. Couldn’t fall for Grant just because they’d had a great night. Falling was stupid, because smashing into the ground hurt. And Hannah knew firsthand there would never be anyone to catch her.
She blew a lock of hair out of her face and looked around again. Her skin was sticky from the humidity, and the sky was getting grayer. The ship required all people to be back on board by 5:00 p.m. She had an hour . . . but she couldn’t see past the trees.
“How in the hell did I get this lost?” she breathed to herself. She’d wanted a hike, an adventure, and now she was alone. On an island. Figured. Irony never seemed to miss her.
Alone.
And not a soul on earth would know she was missing. Would the boat leave without her? Her breaths came faster, and she started to hustle. In which direction, she didn’t know. She just wound through the forest that had looked beautiful an hour ago and now was a prison. The branches scraping her arms, her steps echoing as if reminding her how alone she was.
Her eyes stung, and it had nothing to do with the sea air.
She looked at her phone again. Time was passing, and she had no communication. Not that anyone could help her. What if she didn’t make it home? Would her father notice? Maybe, once he sobered up in jail and no one was there to bail him out.
Hannah had never counted on a soul in her life, but she’d give anything to know how it felt to be bailed out. To have someone come through for her.
She hustled faster. She’d be fine. She forced her brain to kick into strength and willpower. Everything is fine. She was capable, and she didn’t need anyone. She didn’t need help. She’d be okay . . .
That sting flared up behind her eyes again, and when she blinked, a single bead of moisture escaped.
Her heart raced, but her blood was sluggish, trying to keep up with the beating in her temples. What was this feeling?
Fear.
I’m scared . . . and alone . . .
She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes and moved faster.
“I’ll be okay . . . I’ll be okay . . .” But the more she tried to assure herself, the more she felt the opposite. She did the only thing she could—she started humming to herself.
She glanced up and was hit on the forehead with a raindrop. This was bad. Really bad. She shook her head and pressed on. Hoping to God she was going the right way and just praying to break the tree line, where she could hopefully see farther out.
A loud, deep voice sounded in the distance. “Hannah! Are you out there, Hannah?”
Hannah’s eyes shot wide. She ran to the voice. “I’m here! Please, don’t leave me.” She didn’t know who was listening, but she begged the voice to help her. To find her.
The trees rustled, and she ran faster toward it. Toward another person. Hoping she was close to the beach—
She ran into a hard chest, and arms instantly surrounded her. Warmth and spice engulfed her. She looked up and saw Grant’s eyes burning down on her.
