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6
Oh no.It’s lasting all night.
It’s an hour past sunset.
Declan and I are still stuck on the island. The wind whips in strong gusts, the palm trees bend and the rain drives at us almost horizontally. I’m long past soaking wet and more in the drowned rat category.
We’ve been here three hours. Two hours ago Declan used his super-duper sat phone to text Percy and let him know we were fine, had shelter, and were just waiting out the storm.
I wrap my arms tighter around myself and try to stop shivering. Declan frowns at me.
“We could attempt to head back,” he says, talking loudly to be heard over the downpour.
Another peal of thunder rolls over our little island.
“No way,” I say. “I told you, the wave heights are going to be intense. I bet you anything there’s a small craft warning. We can’t leave until this settles down.”
He gives me a frustrated look. I get the feeling that Declan Fox isn’t used to being told no, even by nature. I imagine that if it rains while he’s at the beach he just hops on his helicopter or private jet and takes it to another beach where it’s sunny.
“It’ll stop soon,” I say.
He doesn’t look convinced. “That’s what you claimed three hours ago.”
Yeah. Yeah.
I shift on the wet stone bench. It’s cold, hard and uncomfortable. And no matter what I hoped for or what I told Declan, I don’t think this storm is going to lighten anytime soon. I start shivering again, so much so that my teeth chatter.
“This is unacceptable,” Declan says.
“S-s-sorry.”
He shakes his head and looks around the dark, rain-soaked clearing. Then he turns to me and holds open his arms. “Come here.”
I lift an eyebrow in surprise. “Excuse me?”
His jaw tightens. “You’re shaking. The rain’s cold and not stopping. I’m warmer than you. Come here.”
A flash of heat runs through me at the thought of walking into his arms, but that heat is quickly replaced with revulsion. Why would my body even respond like that?
“What are you waiting for? My offer isn’t indefinite,” he says. He starts to drop his arms.
I’m up and off my stone seat before I can think better of it. I hurry around the table and half-fling, half-shove myself against him. There’s nothing graceful about it. I’m too cold and wet.
He lets out a surprised huff on impact. I sort of burrow against him like a mouse in its hole. I let out an involuntary sound of happiness. He was right, he’s a lot warmer than me.
Mmmm.
Good.
He’s stiff at first, but when I don’t say anything, he slowly begins to relax. I’ve basically lost all inhibitions, because I drape myself across his lap and shove my bare arms and legs against his warm middle, then I drop my head to the heat of his chest.
He doesn’t say anything, he just slowly lowers his arms around my back and holds me close.
I listen to the drumming of his heart over the rainfall and blink my eyes when raindrops blow into my face. After about ten minutes I stop shivering and start to feel halfway warm.
It’s dark now. Really dark. There isn’t any light from nearby towns, or buildings, and the moon and stars are mostly hidden behind thick storm clouds. My eyes adjusted after sunset, so I can make out Declan, the outline of the gazebo, and the shapes of the waving palm trees and the bushes, but I don’t know that I’ve ever been anywhere so entirely dark.
I press closer to Declan and let out another shiver.
“Still cold?” he asks, then he briskly rubs my back and my arms.
I shake my head. “It’s not that.”
His hands slow and rest again on my back. “What then?”
“I don’t like the dark,” I admit.
Usually I wouldn’t tell a near stranger something so personal, but these are unusual circumstances.
He makes a noise a bit like a grunt but he doesn’t inquire any further. But, because the dark is pressing in, and I’m warm in Declan’s arms, I decide to tell him what I’ve only ever told my close friends.
“My dad took me and my mom on assignment with him when I was eleven,” I start.
He leans his head down, probably to hear me better over the rain.
“He’s a war correspondent,” I explain. “He wanted to show me the ropes. It was supposed to be a safe area, outside the conflict zone. He wouldn’t have brought us otherwise.”
I feel Declan stiffen, almost imperceptibly. I guess he can tell what’s coming.
“The second night we were there, the moon was covered by clouds. It was so dark, when you turned out the lights you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. So, I went into my mom and dad’s room and slipped into their bed. Ten minutes later, a militia attacked the village where we were staying.”
I stop talking as I relive that night. Declan’s arms tighten around me.
“What happened?” he asks.
I shrug. “Nothing really. The militia was driven out. My dad put my mom and me on a flight home the next morning.” I smile ruefully into the darkness. “I was lucky, I figured out at eleven that I wasn’t meant to follow in my dad’s footsteps. And also that I don’t like the dark. Two very important things to know about yourself, don’t you think?”
He lets out a long breath. “You’re right,” he says. “It can take some people decades to realize they don’t want to do what their parents expect of them.”
“Hmmm.” I lean in closer, enjoying the heat of him. “Is that what happened to you?”
“No. I always knew I wanted to start my own business. My parents fully supported me from my first endeavor at age five.”
“What was that?” I can’t help smiling. I can only imagine how serious Declan was as a five-year-old, telling his parents he wanted to rule the business world.
“I was the neighborhood messenger. I ran messages and parcels between houses for a fee.”
“That’s adorable.”
“And successful,” he gloats. “I made fifty pounds in my first month. That’s gold to a five-year-old.”
The concept of a parcel service sounds familiar.
“Do you own a shipping company now?”
He nods, and his chin rubs against my damp hair.
“It’s an integrated shipping company. I own a fleet of more than six hundred container vessels. We offer services at three hundred and seventy ports in one hundred and sixteen countries. We’re one of the largest operators in the world.”
There’s a world of pride in his voice.
I say the first thing that comes to mind. “That sounds like a lot of work.”
He does chuckle this time. Then he says, “I hire incredibly smart people to run the day-to-day operations.”
“Oh. Right.”
“What? You thought I ran a worldwide logistics company all on my own?” There’s a teasing note in his voice.
I tilt my head up to look at him, but I can’t make out his expression.
“No. I hadn’t thought about it at all. In fact, I don’t think about you at all.”
I think I feel him smiling. “That’s right. I’d forgotten,” he says.
The rain has slowed a bit and is no longer blowing sideways, although the palm trees are still bending in the wind. I’ve come to the conclusion I’m trapped in this little gazebo, in Declan’s arms, for as long as it takes for the storm to dissipate.
I may as well make it interesting.
“What do you do for fun?” I ask.
He shifts on the bench and readjusts himself so that I’m positioned more comfortably against him.
“Buy private islands?” he says.
I snort. “I’m being serious.”
