Page 5 of Must Have Been Love

I just need my body to get the memo.

“You’re Skyler,” he says, suddenly surprising me.

“How do you know that?” I narrow my eyes at him, feeling exposed in more ways than just having my damn nipples pressed against my top like traffic lights.

“Your father had a daughter and a stepdaughter. Skyler and Lee. Lee has a husband and a house and lives in LA. You…” he trails off. “Don’t.”

“He talked about us?” My voice comes out small. Not only because this man had some kind of connection with my dad, but because his knowledge of who I am must come from Dad too.

Which means Dad talked about us.

For some reason that makes my throat tighten so hard I find it difficult to breathe.

“He did.” He nods.

“What’s your name?” I ask him.

“Hudson Fitzgerald.”

He doesn’t offer me his hand, and I’m grateful for that. Mostly because I don’t feel that charitable to him, despite the lowering of his tone. But also because I’m not sure I want to touch him.

“And there’s really no need to be here,” he tells me. “Whatever offer you get, I’ll top it. I’ll buy this place as is. You can leave and enjoy the money.”

He says it so easily, like we’re talking about a simple transaction, not my dead father’s bar. I can’t walk away from it like that.

“Thank you,” I say. “But I won’t be taking that offer.”

Because now an idea is forming in my mind. I look around at the chairs stacked on the tables and the dust clinging to every surface. But in my head I see a bar full of people, laughing, ordering drinks, maybe a singer on the podium at the far end, a couple dancing to the music next to him.

And I see my dad behind the bar. Not the man who died of cirrhosis, but the man he was before. The one in the photographs I’ve seen from when Lee was young and I was a baby.

In a stupidly strange way it feels like home.

“I need to change out of these clothes,” I say, aware that I’ll have to run through the rain again to get to the car to get my luggage, but it has to beat being wet. And exposed.

This time he doesn’t look down at my body. Instead his gaze dips to my lips, to the stud in the top left corner. I part them, exhale, and there’s a flash in his eyes.

“Very well.” He nods. “But I’ll be back.” It sounds like more of a threat than a promise. He holds out a card. “If you change your mind, call that number. My assistant will answer day or night.”

I bite down a smile. “And what if I only want to talk to you?” I ask him.

“My assistant is more responsive than me,” he says.

“I bet.”

He shakes his head and goes to turn his back on me, before changing his mind. “This is a small island. Extremely boring. You’re going to hate it here,” he tells me, his voice certain. “I guarantee within a week you’ll change your mind.”

“Well if I do,” I say giving him a sour smile, “I’ll make sure you’re the last to know.”

* * *

HUDSON

The rain is pouring down in sheets as I head back to my car, wrenching the door open and climbing in before I close the umbrella. I slam the door hard for good measure before letting my head fall back against the leather upholstered headrest. I’m furious, because I should have known she was coming. I pay good money to know exactly what’s going on all over this island.

I don’t like surprises. Especially not in the form of a soaking wet woman who has the most perfect breasts I think I’ve ever seen.

Not that I was looking. I don’t think I’ve met anybody who’s less my type than her. I’m not keen on tattoos. I don’t like facial piercings. Fuck only knows what other surprises she’s hiding under those clothes.

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