Page 13 of Safe in Clua

THIRTEEN

Laia

I try not to stare when Felix pops a hidden sunglasses shelf down from above the rearview mirror and slides his Ray-Bans on. I could pretend that it’s the fanciness of the black leather interior I’m admiring, but Kenzi was right the other day, I’ve never been very good at lying. Not even to myself. “So, where are we going?”

“Tenting.” The corner of his mouth quirks up at whatever he reads on my face. “I thought we could stop off at Tenting Falls on the way.”

“Okay.” I rummage in my purse for my own sunglasses. I’ve never had anyone look at me like that … like they can read my mind. Like they like what they read there.

This is maybe not one of my finest ideas.

Or is it?

Damon broke something in me—that’s on him.

But fixing that thing? Not letting him take any more from me? That’s on me.

I won’t let him win. Not anymore. And if that means going on impulsive road trips with a man I really like kissing, then who am I to argue?

Sliding my glasses on, I lean back into my seat. “What kind of trees are those?” I tap my finger on the window at the thick forest that skirts the side of the road as it whizzes by.

“Bigleaf Magnolias.” A small smile is still playing on his lips, but he doesn’t look my way again. “They grow all over the island. Them and palm trees.”

My tummy flutters. Everything said in that curling lilt sounds good. Even tree talk. I force myself to turn to the forest outside my window. “And those little pink flowers growing around them?”

“Those are Mexican Coral Vines, they weren’t introduced here until a few years ago, now they’re taking over.”

“You know your plants.”

He nods and I let my gaze linger on his profile, his lips…

“Everything okay?”

I blink my brain back into action. “I…” Is that a smirk on his face? It is. It’s a smirk. “I was just … I like your sunglasses.” Lame, lame, lame.

“My glasses?” The lips that got me into this mortifying mess in the first place press together. “You like my glasses.”

I release a breath as subtly as I can.

A few minutes of awkward silence tick by before he talks again. “So. Pies, huh?”

I nod and twist my fingers. “My mom was a baker. It was our thing, now it’s my thing. I guess … it’s stupid.” I hold my breath, waiting for him to agree—to laugh.

“Not stupid. It’s your thing. It’s good to have a thing.”

“What’s yours?” I turn a little in my seat to face him.

He snorts, but a dimple appears in his cheek when he shakes his head, his forehead creasing. “I don’t know. Fishing maybe? Work?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “How are you still single?” The question’s out before I can stop it.

His dimple vanishes before my cheeks even have a chance to flame. “I’m sorry. Too personal, I shouldn’t have asked.”

His fingers flex on the steering wheel. “It’s fine.” His Adam’s apple bobs and the muscles in his throat contract.

“Felix, you don’t have to answer, it’s nothing to do with me.”

“I’m single because” —his smile is forced when he finally looks at me— “Because I want to be.”

We pull off the main road down a tight dirt road before the awkward silence that follows really gets … awkward.

Until I forget it’s awkward because… “My God. This place…” My mouth falls open as we pull into a small opening surrounded by lush greenness. “Felix, this place is unbelievable.” Without waiting for him, I open the door and jump out the second he stops.

A heady, unfamiliar scent envelops me along with the sticky, humid air as I close the door behind me. Vivid greens, breath-taking pinks, and stunningly bright oranges. Flowers every color of the rainbow and more drip from every one of the huge trees that surround us. Vines adorned with tiny white buds wrap around trunks as thick as two of me and as tall as a building. I sink down into a squat and inhale, stroking my fingers over the white petals of a plant. A wild orchid. This place is like stepping into another world. A different time. It’s like a fairy-tale. “Is that smell those Big Leaf Gorgolias?” I stand at the sound of the driver’s side door closing.

“Magnolias.”

“Magnolias, right.” My fairy-tale high plummets to the soles of my flip flops. Stupid woman. You never listen. “I’m an idiot, I never listen. Sorry.”

Felix moves to the front of the pickup a couple of feet from me. He pushes his glasses onto the top of his head then folds his arms over his chest, the blue of his eyes unreadable. “You’re not an idiot, Laia.”

The humid heat sticks to my skin along with the millions of questions written over his face. I fan my hand in an attempt to cool my cheeks. “I mean … I didn’t mean … I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” His jaw sets, hardening.

I clamp my bottom lip between my teeth but can’t seem to make myself look away from his face. He knows.

There’s no way … I suck in a breath. Shake my head. “Felix, I don’t … I…” Can’t explain.

Straightening, he takes a step towards me.

I step back.

There’s no smile in his eyes anymore. Just curiosity. Protectiveness. And it’s gone before I’m sure it was even there in the first place. The tension in his shoulders eases, his mouth curving into an almost smile before he reaches me. “The waterfall is this way.”

“How far?”

“Not far. Five minutes or so.” He takes my hand before I can move from his path.

I stare at his long fingers linked through mine then up into his face. I didn’t flinch. Not even nearly. I may feel sparks. Or I may be about to faint. But either way, I didn’t flinch. I’m taking it as a win.

His thumb smooths across the pulse in my wrist. “You’re not an idiot, Laia.” He takes a step closer, dipping his head to keep my stare held in his gaze. “Stop putting yourself down.”

My head tilts back. Damon’s voice in my mind threatening to take all the good away, threatening to ruin everything like it always does.

I want it gone. I want him out of my head again, and I know exactly how to make that happen.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I lift onto my toes, everything inside me telling me that this’ll make it better—that this man can make it better. That just once more won’t hurt.

His gaze moves over my face, questions still flitting through his stare, until it fixes on my mouth, like he knows what I’m doing. But he doesn’t stop me, not even when I close the distance and brush my lips over his. I breathe in his scent and suck lightly on his bottom lip. The effect is instant. No more Damon. Just Felix and his smell, his lips, and the calming effect they seem to have on me.

He dips his head, and his hands slide around my waist. I tickle my tongue over the seam of his mouth, and he angles his head to kiss me deeper, slower, better.

A low moan vibrates from his chest when I flick my tongue against his top lip.

He clears his throat and steps back without warning, his hand lifting to the back of his neck as he turns to the forest. “We should probably get going.”

“Yeah.” I barely resist touching my fingers to my lips. “Sorry. Yes. Let’s go.” I shouldn’t have done that.

I pick my way over the partially overgrown walkway, the weight of his presence behind me accelerating my heart rate way more than the pace we’re walking at. I should say something. Apologize for using his lips as an anesthetic to my fucked-up past. I lift my gaze to the sun-stippled canopy of palms and Big Leaf Magnolias and try to pick out one of the birds singing above us instead. How would I even put that into words?

“It’s just up here.”

I squint through the trees and sure enough, there’s an opening a few meters ahead. A giddy excitement rises to the surface when I hear the bubbling of flowing water. I pick up my pace.

“Watch out for the…”

Before I can turn to see what I’m supposed to be watching out for, my foot catches on a rock, propelling me forward.

I’m dragged back from the steep drop down to possibly the clearest water I’ve ever seen before I even get a squeal out.

“I’ve got you.” His breath tickles across the back of my neck, the soft cotton of his T-shirt brushing against the backs of my arms when he straightens behind me and pulls me into his chest.

My hands drop to cover his; adrenaline, fear and a whole lot of heat pumping through my veins. Breathe. I need to breathe. Get things clear in my head again. Clear in his too. “I’m sorry for the kissing,” I whisper without looking back. “I think … I know you don’t want anything … and I don’t, but I can’t … I just … you just…” Make me forget. There’s no way to add that last bit without coming across as seriously unstable.

“No worries.” His hands flex on my waist, and his chest stays pressed up against my back.

I swallow hard, my gaze fixed on where my hands cover his. “I don’t know why I keep…” The lie falls dead on my lips. I know exactly why I keep kissing him. “I’m sor—”

“I’m good with the kissing, Laia.” His long sigh brushes the side of my cheek and his hands slide to my hips turning me a little. “So, what do you think?”

It takes me a second to figure out what he’s talking about—to unwrap myself from him enough to take in my surroundings.

My breath leaves me.

The sun, no longer shaded by the forest, sparkles over the bubbling water. Black, moss-covered stone glistens beneath the cascade of water, spraying a cool mist into the air around us. I tilt my head back following the waterfall to the top of the story high rock face and the back of my head touches his shoulder.

Neither of us move.

My eyes drift closed as I breathe in the sweet, fresh, floral air. “It’s beautiful.” I finally turn to him. “Thank you for bringing me here. I’d never have found this place by myself.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “My pleasure. I haven’t been here for years. We can get down this way.”

I follow him around the edge of the water. He doesn’t mind the kissing. That’s good. I think. Unless that means he wants to do more than the kissing. That’s bad. My pulse starts whooshing in my ears. Definitely bad. I’m nowhere near ready for more. I’m not even sure I’m ready for the kissing.

“The thought of coming back to this place got me through some tough times when I was on tour.” Felix hops down a drop onto the rock below, then holds his hand up for me to take. “Watch your step.”

I grab his hand and jump down, thankful for the change in conversation. “How long were you in for?”

He kicks at a stone when we come to the edge of the massive flat rock, watching it as it rolls off the side and splashes into the water below. “Five years, give or take.” Toeing off his Converse, he lowers himself down and hangs his legs over the side, his feet plunging into the water. “I busted my knee on a training mission and that was the end of that.”

“Were you sad to come home?” Slipping off my flip flops, I sit down by his side. “Stupid question. I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave somewhere as beautiful as Clua in the first place, let alone being sad to come home.” I dip my toes into the water, then instantly jerk them back out. Jeez, that's cold. I try again, slower this time. “It’s paradise.”

“I was twenty-four and thought” —he picks up another flat stone and skims it across the water— “I thought that running away from my problems would make them go away.”

I look up from the path of circular ripples his stone left in its wake, kicking my feet beneath the surface. “Sometimes there’s no other option but to run.”

“Is that what you’re doing here?” That deep line appears between his eyebrows again. “Running from something?”

I shrug, but don’t trust myself to hold his stare. I’ll probably blurt out my whole sorry story if I do. “What does your tattoo mean?” I ask in a lame attempt to change the subject back onto safer ground.

After a beat, he lifts his leg from the water, turning it to either side, his calf muscles bunching and tightening under his skin, making the black swirls and patterns that wrap it shift and move like they’ve come to life. “It’s traditional Cluan. In the fifties, they dug up some old tiles with script and images engraved on them. This is one of them.”

I lean forward. Only just stopping myself from tracing my fingers along the details. “It looks almost Maori. Do you know what it means?” I glance back into his face.

He holds my stare, his lips parting like he wants to say something, but the words just won’t cooperate. I know that feeling well.

I slide my hand across the rough rock until my pinkie is flush against his. “You don’t have to tell me.”

He clears his throat, his troubled stare flicking from our hands to my face.

Before I can overthink it or talk myself out of it, I lean across and kiss him. Again. Just a tentative press of my lips to his in the hope that it has the same effect on whatever’s got that haunted look on his face as it does on my past.

His whole body stills and I’m pretty sure my heart stops completely. I’ve read this wrong, read him wrong. But, before I can pull back, he slides his hand around the back of my neck and kisses me back until I don’t think I could even tell you my name if you asked.

I guess it works both ways then.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com