He stopped his car and suddenly realized he’d come to the bluffs, the highest point in San Rey. The muffled roar of the sea dashing on the rocks below drew him out of the car. He’d often come here as a teenager to think or try to get in some girl’s pants. Forgoing the bench, he stood at the railing and looked out over the night-blackened ocean. There was something about the rhythmic ebb and flow of the tide that soothed him. It was constant, dependable. He pulled in a deep breath and tilted his face into the misty breeze, closing his eyes. If only he could be like the waves, coming and going as he pleased.
After several steadying moments, he opened his eyes and glanced down at the rocks below. Maybe he was more like the rocks than the water. A static thing that life pounded and crashed against, trying to wear down. It was colder here with nothing to block the wind. Graham didn’t mind the cold. It matched his mood. He stayed at the railing, his body tense against the chill, until his eyeballs hurt and his hands went numb. He jammed them in his pockets and turned to go back to his car. The outline of a figure sitting on the bench startled him. He reached for his weapon by habit, his heart banging hard against his ribcage, then halted the motion when recognition hit.
Her. What was
she
doing here?
“Sorry. I was trying not to disturb you,” Erin said, her voice as thin and wispy as the ocean breeze.
He made his way over, forgetting the cold and the reasons he had for leaving. He stopped in front of her. “What are you doing out here?”
“Probably the same thing as you.”
“I doubt that.”
She scooted over, making a motion for him to sit beside her. He did.
“I came to clear my head,” she said, looking out over the black ocean. “Too many clouds to see the moon tonight, but it’s there.”
“Do you come here often?”
She laughed and it did something funny to his insides. “That sounds like a bad pick up line.”
“I don’t really have any good ones.
Wanna see my gun
is about as good as it gets.”
She looked at him, leaning back a little. “That
is
awful.”
“Told you.”
“I suppose you don’t need pick up lines with those eyes, do you?”
She liked his eyes? That thought made him cheerier than he’d been all day. Hell, all week. Maybe all month.
She returned her gaze to the dark sky. “Can’t see any stars either. That’s my favorite thing about coming out here at night. There are so many stars.”
He stole that moment to look at her profile, shadowed and uninhibited. She’d tucked her hair into a knit cap and wrapped a scarf around her neck, framing her face as though it was a picture. There was something so very honest and forthright about her.
“How do you stand it?” The words fell out before he knew he was going to say them.
She tilted her head and looked at him. “What?”
“This town.”
“What do you mean?”
“The smallness.”
“That’s one of the things I like most about it. It’s quaint.”
“Haven’t you ever wanted to be anonymous? To be able to tell somebody something about yourself without them already knowing everything about you and your family?”
“Ah,” she said with a small, sad smile. “Our families are famous in this town for very different reasons.”
“Just my point. Wouldn’t it be nice to walk into a room and not carry generations of your family’s baggage?”
“At least your baggage matches. Mine is mismatched and Duct-taped together.” Her smile flattened and her expression turned brooding. “You fit in. I never have.”
“Fitting in isn’t belonging.”
“For me it is.”
Her words hit him hard, making him feel like the world’s biggest dumb ass. Here he was complaining about the respect his family’s legacy afforded him, while hers set her apart.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Hitching a shoulder, she jerked her gaze away. “Nothing for you to be sorry about.”
He racked his brain for words to fill the long, awkward silence that followed. None came. He could only stare at her profile and wonder what it would be like if their roles were reversed. If he were the outcast free to leave any time he wanted and she was the one anchored to the community by generations of service.
“I can see how your family’s legacy might feel strangling,” she said, breaking into the quiet. “It’s like a rich people problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Having money doesn’t make your problems go away. It brings a whole new set of problems, but it also brings more choices.”
“My problem leaves me no choice,” he said.
“Not true. You could
choose
to not see it as a problem.”
“Accept it, you mean? Just give in?”
“No. Give over to it.”
Give over to it. She was talking about something he didn’t know anything about, a different kind of acceptance. But wasn’t that just a fancy word for giving in?
He shook his head. “I don’t have your optimism.”
“It’s not optimism. Happiness can be as simple as making a decision.”
“If it’s that simple, why haven’t you put it into practice?”
“Who says I’m not happy?”
“You did.”
She looked at her lap where she’d twisted the fringe of her scarf around her finger. “I’m happy.”
Her tone told a different story. He dropped the subject rather than upset her more.
“I used to bring girls up here sometimes.” He pointed to where the bluffs bent back before curving around again. “Right over there is a group of trees with perfect camouflage. A blanket, an illicit bottle of cheap alcohol, and a willing girl in the moonlight is a beautiful thing.”
“Yeah, Susie Philpot swore she saw a shooting star at the exact moment you took her virginity.”
He couldn’t help grinning in surprise. “Oh, yeah?”
“Susie set us all up for disappointment. There were no shooting stars or fireworks when I lost mine.”
“That’s because you didn’t lose it to me,” he joked.
She chuckled. “No, I certainly didn’t. All I got was a big ole
that’s it?
and a sticky mess to clean up.”
He barked out a laugh that sounded old and little used. She watched him with a strange awed look on her face.
“What?” Self-consciousness made him ask a little too defensively.
“You should laugh more. It completely changes your face. And you get these little laugh lines right here.” She touched a finger to the corner of his eye. “Very sexy, like a movie star.”
“A movie star? I don’t think so. But I’ll take the very sexy part.”
“Your modesty borders on annoying.”
She was smiling up at him and he forgot the cold, forgot the surf pounding the rocks below, and the distant bark of sea lions. Forgot why kissing her was such a bad idea as he leaned forward, his gaze dropping to her mouth. She put a hand on his chest and he thought for a moment she might shove him back. Instead she fisted the lapel of his jacket and pulled him the rest of the way toward her.
“This is probably a bad idea,” he murmured and instantly felt her grip change, pushing him away. The exact opposite of what he wanted. Or maybe the very thing he wanted. Kissing a local girl was probably not the smartest thing he could do right now.
“You’re right.” She leapt up and backed away from him. “I can’t do this.”
He caught himself with a palm on the bench seconds before he face planted. “What the hell just happened?” he said more to himself than to her.
“I have a boyfriend,” she asserted.
“He’s not here now.”
“That’s not… It doesn’t matter. We’re committed.”
“Somebody should be committed and I think it’s me.”
Why was he trying to talk her into what he’d just talked her out of?
He shook his head.
And why couldn’t he keep his big, freaking mouth shut?
She started backing away from him toward the staired path that wound down to town. “I should go.”
“Let me drive you home at least.”
“No need. My house isn’t far.”
He stood and followed her. “Erin. Let me drive you.”
~*~
Erin knew if she stayed one more moment under the moonless sky with Graham Doran she’d do more than temporarily forget she had a boyfriend. She needed to leave. Now.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, scrambling backward.
Her foot caught on a rock. She teetered at the top of the stairs, arms pinwheeling. Time slowed. The sky rushed across her vision. Graham dashed forward. He grabbed her, pulling her from the edge so suddenly her head snapped forward. She gripped him roughly, her heart pounding so hard she couldn’t speak. The sensation of falling stayed with her and she didn’t think she’d be able to stand without him.
“Jesus God,” he breathed, clutching her closer. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Me, too.”
“Erin—”
She cut off his words with the firm press of her lips. His surprised oomph morphed into a low growl as he changed the angle of the kiss, pulling her closer still. His lips were cool from the night air, making his mouth seem even hotter. She wound her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers into his hair. His hand slid down to her backside, bringing her into him. She pressed closer, rocking against him. He felt so good. It all felt so damn good. She’d wanted this from the moment he’d sat down on the bench next to her.
He trailed his lips along her jaw, murmuring words she didn’t understand, but knew the meaning of. In answer, she dragged his mouth back to hers. She felt the brush of his thumb on the underside of her jaw. She was hot from him and cold from the night air and wet where she wanted him. The sensations built, one piling on the other until she was throbbing with need.
He backed her against a tree. Her clothing caught on the rough bark, pinning her between it and him. He was so hot and hard against her. The rain began in fat drops, but she didn’t care. He kept kissing her, his hands moving lazily over her.
Breaking their kiss, his mouth near her ear, he made his offer again, giving it a whole new meaning. “Let me take you home.”
“Yes.”
Lightning flashed, followed by the loud clap of thunder. He gave her a hard kiss and wrapped an arm around her. The clouds opened, unleashing their burden in sheets. Hunching under the onslaught, they ran to Graham’s car, laughing. She was still laughing when Graham deposited her in the seat and ran around the car. He slid in on his side, slamming the door behind him. Their laughter died in the close confines of the car. Rain bulleted the roof, thunder roared overhead.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he asked, a little out of breath.
“What?”
“Kiss you.” His words settled around them, changing the mood in increments.
“No.” Her response was a breath of sound. How
would
she know? He’d hardly acknowledged her until today and when he did well, she didn’t even think he liked her.
She could just make out the shape of his features in the darkened car, but couldn’t see his eyes. Focusing on his mouth, she watched as they formed the words she half longed for, half dreaded hearing.
“Feels like forever.”
“Your lips are softer than I imagined they’d be,” she quietly confessed.
Holding her hand, he kissed the back of it. This felt too intimate, too much like they were starting something that couldn’t be stopped. She wasn’t free to start up something with Graham or anyone else.
“Can you take me home now?” she asked.
He squeezed her hand, taking her words the wrong way.
“I’m tired,” she added, making her meaning clear. “It’s been a difficult day.”
He took her chin in his hand and turned her toward him. He searched her face for a minute that felt like an hour. She didn’t know what he saw or if he could even see anything at all. Nodding slowly, he released her. He started the engine and shifted into gear, beginning their journey down the hill.
She broke the silence now and then to direct him to her house. He kept his eyes on the road and didn’t comment. Finally he pulled up to the curb of her small Craftsman bungalow and killed the engine.
“Thanks for the ride.” She reached for the door handle.
“I don’t like him.”
“Who?”
“The Jolly Green Grocer.”
“You don’t have to like him.”
“I don’t think you like him either.” He shifted in his seat, angling toward her. “Do you?”
“I like him.” She put as much enthusiasm in her words as she could muster with the feel of Graham’s body still imprinted on hers and his smell wrapped around her.
“Very convincing. Did you know you have a tell?”
“Like in poker?
“Why are you with him if you don’t like him?”
“Thanks again for the ride.”
She made to leave, but he reached across her and clamped his hand over hers. “Answer my question and you can go.”