Alec had seen her do this more times than he had fingers and toes to count. No doubt, it was her parents calling for their mundane weekly check-in.
The fucking shitheads. What in the hell was wrong with those people? To treat a daughter that way? Their flesh and blood. How could you look at something so beautiful, so goddamn sweet his teeth ached, that they themselves had created, and not love her?
Alec’s baby had been nothing more than tissue when Laura miscarried, but he loved that little mass with all he had, and he hadn’t ever gotten to meet it. Granted, he only had one side of Faith’s story, and there may have been more to it, but Faith was honest to a fault. He didn’t question for a second that what she told him was the truth.
Looking at her now, any residual doubt slipped away with the tide. He pulled out his cell to text her. Cowardice, for sure, but she was killing him standing there all by herself, wanting acceptance from two people who were too selfish to give it.
I miss you.
She glanced down at her phone and stilled. If not for the swish of her hair in the wind, he’d swear time had stopped.
Painful minutes ticked by.
Just as he was about to make his way over, his parents approached Faith, with Lacey and Jake in tow. Feeling like he’d been dropped in some god-awful mute version of a Shakespearean play, Alec watched from a distance.
Faith said something that made his dad laugh. Before they moved on, Faith handed them a napkin with a brownie as if she were one of the waitstaff.
He followed Faith’s gaze as Lacey introduced her father to his parents. He couldn’t tell from this distance, but he knew that longing, yearning look haunting Faith’s face. Any family dynamic, even a dysfunctional one, had to be better than pretending total ignorance.
He’d forgotten all about the text until Faith glanced at her phone again. After a few seconds, she cast a wayward glance at the guests and crossed her arms as she wandered toward her guesthouse.
Surging into action, Alec pivoted and strode past the beach and mimosa grove to the front of the property, where he could make his way to her place without anyone seeing.
chapter
twenty
It seemed she didn’t belong anywhere. A party full of people and she was still so alone. Most of the guests were having a great time, which was good. Faith was hoping to drum up enough courage to go introduce herself, but then Alec’s text came, throwing her off.
He missed her? She didn’t know how to feel about that, or if she should believe it. If he missed her, he had a funny way of showing it.
His parents were nice people. His dad was a little too outspoken, but his mother was warm and friendly. Faith got the impression Alec’s dad was just nervous. After all, he used to be the Covingtons’ gardener and now he was invited to beach parties on the estate and his son was marrying the Covingtons’ daughter. Hope used to talk a lot when she was nervous. Endless chatter with no filter.
She opened the back door to the guesthouse and stepped inside. Not bothering with the kitchen light, she made her way to the stove to start the kettle. While she waited for the water to heat, she glanced out the window over the sink. The bonfire created enough illumination for her to move about, but she didn’t want anyone to know she’d slunk off like a coward, so she kept the lights off. The party had been too much stimulation. Most people didn’t understand that, and it was too hard to explain.
She doubted anyone would notice she was gone anyway, which was fine.
The kettle whistled, shaking her away from her thoughts. She poured the water into a mug and set the tea bag to steep. After locking the kitchen door, just in case a wandering guest should approach, she decided to grab a book and read until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Perhaps then she’d get out of this pattern of interrupted sleep that had haunted her all week.
“You left the party pretty early.”
Hot tea sloshed over her hand when she whirled. She shook the sting away.
The deep tone of Alec’s familiar voice infiltrated the quiet serenity of the guesthouse. She’d thought she was alone. Assumed, rather. He hadn’t come inside without knocking first any other time.
He leaned against the living room wall by the front door, arms folded over his impressive chest and ankles crossed. No flip-flops or sandals. The sight of his bare feet sent some kind of electrical current to her knees, causing them to weaken. Why was that so sexy? Board shorts in a blue tropical pattern covered his strong thighs and narrow hips. His tee was plain white, but stretched across the muscles in his biceps and broad chest, making her want to be that shirt.
He looked casual, until she caught the tension tightening his shoulders and the wariness in his eyes. Tufts of his black hair stood up on his head, like he’d run his hands through it a half dozen times. It was windy tonight, though. Perhaps nature was the culprit for the bedhead.
She tried to swallow and failed. What was he doing here? He didn’t want complications or romantic entanglements. He’d called things off. Didn’t he realize how hard it was for her to be near him?
The sting in her hand where the tea had spilled intensified to a throb. It was turning red already. She shook her hand again and set the mug aside.
He shoved off the wall and strode into the kitchen. “Did you burn yourself? Let me see.”
This was silly. It was fine. “I’m . . .”
The thought died away. He brought her hand to his lips and gently blew on the burn, keeping his gray-blue eyes trained to hers. A head-to-toe shiver tore through her body. She made some kind of sound in her throat—a determined whine of surrender or a plea to stop. Either. Both.
He stilled, all but his thumb, which brushed over the rampant pulse in her wrist. “Never, never stop making that noise, Faith. It’s the sexiest thing. You make the same sound when you come.”
Air forced its way into her lungs. Heat pooled between her thighs. Her head got more than a little light.
With a gentle tug, he drew her against him. “I missed you.”
Yeah, but . . . why?
“You said that. In your text. I’m confused.” And incoherent.
“As am I.” Several emotions shifted over his face in the span of a few seconds. He dipped his head and brushed his lips over hers. Moaned. He drew away and mumbled something about a mermaid before he plunged into the kiss.
She fisted her hands in his shirt and yanked him closer, even as her brain screamed at her to back away. This was maddening, the need and fervor he could evoke. And when he left at the end of summer, if she didn’t die from bewilderment first, she’d succumb to a massive broken heart. But this was what she’d wanted. Experience. Passion. To live.
His arms tightened around her back when he ended the kiss and nuzzled her neck. He sighed heavily. “Mermaids and cupcakes.”
She chewed on her lower lip where she could still taste him. “I wasn’t joking when I said I’m confused.”
He chuckled against the skin below her ear. “I’d explain, but you’d think I’m nuts.”
“Already there.”
He laughed again, sounding rough and sexy. The shadow of his beard scraped her cheek as he drew back to look into her eyes. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What did you say to my father to make him laugh?”
She stared over his shoulder, trying to remember the brief conversation they’d had on the beach. “He jokingly asked if the brownies were safe to eat. I said Ginny and I made them, so the sugar coma was his risk to take.”
A smile lit his eyes, infused his whole face. He shook his head and cupped her cheek. “I got my sweet tooth from him. At least there’s something we have in common.”
They had more than that in common, but that was a conversation for a later time. “Why are you here, Alec?”