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“Seriously?” He cocked his head, squinting his eyes.
“Yes,” Caitie lied. “There was nothing more sinister than that. I’ve spent most of the night trying to find a location for their wedding.” She shrugged and poured out their coffees. “How’d you take it?”
“Milk, no sugar please. And I’m sorry if I upset you.”
“I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
He smiled. “I shouldn’t have been so intrusive. What kind of friend turns up after being away for all these years and starts making you feel bad?”
“The sort of friend sitting opposite me.” She grinned back at him. “And I know you’re trying to be nice. The water’s a stupid thing to be afraid of, even I know that.”
“Phobia’s aren’t stupid. They’re reactions to traumatic events.” He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving hers. “After what happened to you, it’s completely understandable you’d be afraid of the ocean. But there are people out there who can help.”
“Like ther
apists?” she asked. “I tried a couple of them. One of them wanted me to jump in the ocean and get over it.” She frowned, looking down at her mug. “I figure it’s not worth dealing with. Not when it’s not a phobia that affects me everyday.”
When she looked up from her coffee, Breck was still staring at her. She couldn’t read his expression at all. But whatever he was thinking, there was something so glorious about him that it made her feel like she was fifteen years old again, mooning after her brother’s best friend. Wishing he’d think of her as more than an annoying kid.
Yeah, well he didn’t back then, and he clearly didn’t now. He’d come here to check on her and make sure she was okay, not because he was attracted to her. And though it was sweet of him, it made her heart hurt.
Because there was a part of her that wished he felt the same way she did.
6
Breck never had any problem sleeping, or at least he hadn’t until tonight. When he was a kid, his mom used to say a bandit could sneak into his bedroom, carry him out and smuggle him across the border, and he’d just mumble and turn over.
So why was he finding it impossible to sleep now?
He turned in his bed, the sheets tangling over him as he reached for his phone and checked the time. One-forty. Only five hours before he had to get up and head over to the resort, and be in charge of fifty men and god knows how many pieces of expensive, heavy machinery.
He needed to get back to sleep, dammit.
Another fruitless minute of twisting and turning passed before he dragged his ass out of bed. He was wearing nothing more than a pair of sleep shorts, thanks to the California weather. Even in October, the night temperatures didn’t dip too low. As he walked into his kitchen, he circled his head, trying to loosen the knots of muscles in his neck and shoulders.
He grabbed the carton of orange juice from the fridge and poured it into a glass, drinking the sweet liquid in one mouthful. His lips twitched as he remembered the way he used to drink from the carton to annoy his mom. She’d shake her head at him as he walked past, but there was always a twinkle in her eye.
God, what wouldn’t he do to see her twinkle again? She’d have loved the fact he’d come back to Angel Sands. Even though she was constantly busy, working to keep a roof over their heads, she always had time for talking about school and his friends.
He leaned on the counter, looking out of the big glass doors leading down to the beach. He’d chosen this cottage for the view. Within twenty minutes of seeing this place he’d signed a year long rental contract, determined to enjoy being within close proximity to the beach for the first time in almost fifteen years.
Though it was too dark to make out the sea, he could hear it. The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the shore managed to sneak in through the gaps in the windows, syncing with his heartbeat as he softly breathed in.
What would it be like to hate that sound so much it made you want to leave town? He thought of the way Caitie frowned when he’d mentioned her fear of the water. How she tried to change the subject. And those two little lines that appeared in between her brows, that he’d itched to smooth away.
He swallowed hard, the taste of orange juice lingering on his tongue. Her skin was as smooth as porcelain. Somehow in the years since he left, she’d grown up to become a stunning woman. The type of woman that people stopped and stared at, just because she had a presence wherever she went. With her dark hair, pale face, and warm brown eyes that seemed to be as big as saucers, she was impossible to ignore.
Yeah, she’s also your best friend’s sister, the little voice in his head reminded him. You didn’t go there. As a kid that kind of thing was verboten. Nowadays, it was asking for trouble. He’d only recently come back into town and reconnected with friends he hadn’t realized he’d missed. He wasn’t ready to mess that up because his skin tingled whenever a certain woman was around.
She’d be leaving soon, and maybe that was a good thing. He didn’t like complications, and he definitely wasn’t looking for a relationship. He ran the pad of his thumb along his jaw, feeling the growth of hair that had happened since he last shaved, his eyes fixed on a faraway spot in the darkness of the outside.
It was better to be single. Less messy and so much easier. Seeing his parents break up when he was a kid was bad enough. Losing his mom when he was a teenager made it worse. Love hurt like hell no matter which way you looked at it. He’d spent a lifetime watching people leave; he didn’t need to put himself through that again.
He’d be okay. He was a grown man in charge of his feelings. Just because something was itching, didn’t mean he needed to scratch it. Best to push it deep down inside, where all his emotions were locked up, and carry on being laid back and carefree.
Pulling the dishwasher open, he put his empty glass on the rack and headed back to his bedroom, determined this time he’d fall asleep. And tomorrow? Well, maybe then he could get the pretty brunette out of his mind.
* * *
