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Kim’s throat worked.
Misty stared down at the sand, her knitting needles clutched tightly in her hand.
Frankie blinked rapidly—not saving them this time.
Luckily, Rob did. “Can I interrupt the meeting of the minds to grab the table?” he asked. “And my wife,” he added, kissing Soph on top of her head.
Raven grinned. “By all means, take both.”
“Thanks,” Soph fake grumbled, kissing her cheek again and then stepping into the circle of Rob’s arm as he tucked the table beneath the other.
“Good to have you back.” Rob smacked a kiss to the top of Raven’s head. A warm, comforting touch that was completely different from the one he gave Soph, but still settled over Raven like a warm blanket.
“It’s good to be home,” she whispered.
He nodded approvingly and then everyone was moving at once—exchanging cheek kisses and hugs and goodbyes chased by promises to see everyone the next day at Raven’s place.
She rebuffed offers to walk her to her car.
Then sank down to the sand and watched the sky grow dark.
Only when the cool of the night was beginning to bite at her skin through the thin material of her sun top, skating along her bare legs, sinking into the formerly warm sand beneath her, did she push to her feet, brushing off her bottom, and picking her way carefully to her car.
She’d parked under a light because she was a single woman and that was the kind of smart, careful move that single women made.
Her parking beneath that light meant she could see her car clearly in the lot.
As clearly as she could see the man leaning back against it.
Twelve
Connor
He’d waited well down the beach for the rest of his family to clear out, not wanting any extra attention.
In a family of six siblings, it was both hard to get and hard to avoid attention.
Mostly because it was difficult to get attention he wanted and annoyingly east to court the attention he had no interest in.
And right at that moment, had had no interest in his family and friends and their significant others to focusing on him hanging around, on him waiting for Raven to come up from the beach.
The apology.
The peace and guilt, acceptance and pain.
The towel and hand up from the waves.
The abrupt change from a woman who’d hated his guts and made no qualms about showing it to…whoever had been standing in front of her house, whoever had been picking his ass up out of the sand.
She stopped, but only for a second.
Then continued walking toward where he was leaning against her driver’s side door. “Did something happen to your car?”
Because why else would he be waiting around for her?
It wasn’t like spending extra time together was a thing, not between them (post-fire healing aside).
Their relationship was pushing buttons and avoidance in equal parts…
