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Ian’s eyes instantly went to my chest before he glanced up and raised a brow.
“Oh, you’re disgusting.”
“Fine. I’m disgusting. AG Man!”
“What is that, more South African sailor?”
This time he jerked his chin back. “What?” He rolled his eyes in understanding. “It means—go away. And mind your own damned business.”
My eyes were trained on his lips as I pushed at his chest. “Stay on your side of the fence, asshole!”
“Fine by me.” He turned toward the beach and my feet began to move on their own accord as the last of my patience flew away.
“What is wrong with you? You can be civil enough to some lady at a bar to get her into bed, but you can’t show me any common decency? We were friends once.”
He barely glanced over his shoulder. “I hardly knew you.”
“Still, what in the hell is your problem with me? Because it has to be specifically with me, right? I mean you can smile for your daughter!”
His turn was sharp as he leveled me with one single look. The man was pure venom and anger and he was dragging me down with him. I could feel the panic in me start to rise and blew out a breath.
“Forget it! Just keep the noise level down on your side of the fence. Screw half of the island for all I care. But I live here. Remember that. I’m not leaving, so deal with it.”
His broad muscular back to me, he muttered his reply. “Not like I have a choice.”
My brain didn’t bother to tell my hand to stop when I drew wet sand from the beach and formed it into a ball, my limbs didn’t bother to slow at all as I tossed it full force at the back of his head.
PMDD. Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder and sleep deprivation. When the two get together, sand bombs happen.
Ian stood with his back to me several seconds before he turned to look my way, his face covered in disbelief. I had a ready middle finger stretched out in front of me, the only sign I knew before I stomped back to my Jeep. He was still glaring at me from where he stood in the sand as I sped off.
THE NEXT FEW WEEKS WERE much of the same. The Kemp house was quiet. Too quiet. I never saw flashing TV lights in the living room or heard any more of his ranting. He would disappear for a few days on the weekends, which I assumed was when he went to see his daughter. Despite my resolution to give him his space, I knew he wasn’t improving. But I was gone during most of the day, never really having any idea what he did when I wasn’t home.
“You’re thinking about him,” Jasmine said as I took a bite of my salad. We were on the sun-covered porch of the Oak Hotel. They had the best salads and an even better view of the bay.
“I just keep wondering what happened.”
“Cheating.”
“No, he wanted the divorce. That doesn’t make sense.” I forked some chicken and looked out at the water. “God, I love days like this.” It was hot, but not to the point of being miserable. The breeze blew off the surface of the sparkling water yards away. Jasmine eyed the man who sat alone next to us and he smirked our way over his paper.
“God, you’re terrible,” I noted, glancing his way. His eyes met mine and I gave him a weak smile.
“I’m thirty-nine and single,” she said a little too loudly as I sank in my seat. “I want to live a lit
tle.”
“Oh, you’ve been living,” I said just as loudly and the guy belted out a loud bark.
She glared at me. “Just because you decided the house was your new convent doesn’t mean the rest of us are hanging it up.”
“I’ve been thinking about that a little lately and maybe it’s time to give dating a chance.” The man Jasmine had been eyeing was suddenly at our table. I looked up to him as he plucked his wallet from his back pocket. “Pardon my eavesdropping, but I’m actually glad to hear it.” He set down a card in front of my plate and I winced at the sun-filled sky behind him trying to get a better look. He was beautiful, with thick coppery brown hair and a strong jawline. I couldn’t make out his eye color. Casually dressed in slacks and a polo, he looked down at me with curious eyes.
“Patrick.” He held out his hand and I took it, stunned. “Koti.” Patrick looked to Jasmine with a smirk, which she countered with one of her own. “I’m Jasmine.”
“Nice to meet you both. Koti, I would love to take you to dinner some time.”
“Okay, Patrick Roberts,” I said eyeing his card. “But it will be expensive.” He bit his lip and winked. “And she brings me a doggie bag,” Jasmine chimed in.
