Page 66 of Rusty's Command

She was twenty minutes early, but her morning had dragged on forever, and when she’d run out of things to do, she couldn’t wait another second.

As she walked along the sand, a trio of frigate birds soared on thermal currents overhead and their distinctive forked tails silhouetted against the cloudless sky.

Their secret cave finally materialized at the northernmost point just above the high-water mark. Eighteen years of ocean winds and yet the dark mouth in the volcanic face remained unchanged. It was barely more than a hollow in the cliff, and during their crazy summer together, they’d pretended they were the only people in the whole world who knew it existed.

She counted the stepping stones across the sand as she hopped over them. Eleven. The same eleven she’d crossed dozens of times during that steamy summer.

A giggle escaped her lips, part nervousness, part giddy anticipation. The thought of seeing Rusty here again sent sparks dancing under her skin just like it had when she was eighteen.

Her heart stuttered as she reached the cave entrance. There he was, looking like he’d stepped straight from her memories in cargo shorts and a faded navy T-shirt that stretched across his shoulders in a way that made her mouth go dry.

He’d transformed their rocky shelter into something from a romance novel. A rustic blanket was nestled in the shadiestcorner with a proper picnic spread that spoke of careful planning. Wine glasses were nestled in a metal bucket where a bottle chilled, and cheese, crackers, and strawberries were arranged with such precision she couldn’t believe Rusty had prepared it.

He must’ve been setting this up for ages.

When he looked up, his smile struck her with that same perfect blend of shyness and confidence that had caught her attention two decades ago. Some things time couldn’t touch: the way his eyes twinkled when he looked at her, lighting up his whole face. His smile still turned her knees to water, making her feel like that mesmerized teenager who’d first fallen under its spell.

Her heart performed a wild dance as he crossed the cave to meet her, his stride carrying that familiar mix of excitement and manliness. Eighteen years dissolved into morning mist, but now she wasn’t that uncertain girl anymore.

She was a woman who understood exactly what she wanted.

And what she wanted was standing right in front of her, looking at her with eyes that held the warmth of a crackling fire.

He extended his hand, and although his expression was solemn, his eyes danced. “Hi, I’m Rusty Callahan.”

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. “Rusty? That name sounds vaguely familiar, but I just can’t?—”

“Come here, you impossible woman.” He pulled her into his arms, spinning her in a circle as the cave walls echoed with their laughter. “You’re early.”

“Couldn’t help it.” She breathed in his scent—salty air, sunshine, and something uniquely him that hadn’t changed in all these years. She rested her fingers at the nape of his neck, exactly where they used to rest.

He lowered her to her feet, but his arms tightened around her waist, and when he kissed her, it was like coming home. Soft atfirst, tentative, then deepening as though he was remembering her, rediscovering every detail he’d kept locked in memory. The years between them melted away until there was nothing but this moment, the sound of waves, and the taste of his smile against her lips.

The kiss ended softly, just like the waves kissing the shore. She kept her fingers clutched at the back of his neck but drew back just enough to study his face. Time had left its signature—fine lines fanned from his eyes, and threads of silver kissed his temples. But the years had refined him, turning the beautiful boy from her memories into someone so manly, more enchanting, more real.

“I was going to be smooth,” he murmured as his thumb traced lazy circles on the small of her back, sending shivers dancing across her skin. “I had this picnic planned, and I was going to pour your wine and add a strawberry like you used to love, and pretend that I hadn’t spent three hours arranging and rearranging everything.”

“This is better,” she murmured, leaning closer. He popped open the Tupperware of strawberries and held it out to her. As she bit into one, the sweet juice burst on her tongue, mingling with the faint, intoxicating scent of him—familiar warmth laced with something new that made her pulse quicken.

Rusty exhaled heavily. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” His tone made it clear there wasn’t much “good” in the good news.

Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she said, “Good news.”

“They found the grave site you saw those men digging.”

Her breath hitched. “They did? Where?”

“Exactly where you said.”

She frowned, her mind racing back to that spot. “But we didn’t see it.”

“Yeah, they’re sneaky bastards. After they filled the grave, they dragged a thin slab of lava over it, blending it perfectly with the landscape.”

“Wow. That’s . . .” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Sneaky? Messed up?” he offered.

“Yeah.” She tilted her head, studying him. “How is that good news?”

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