Page 46 of Sharing Shane

It had been late when he’d gotten in, after two. He’d found a local bar that had decent live music, and had stayed through last call. He’d ignored his phone most of the night, and the dozens of texts from Wyatt. They’d started out subtle, then gradually increased in boldness until “fuck the girl” followed by eggplant and peach emojis was popping up on the screen over and over again.

He’d responded once, with a gif a cartoon monster swallowing a man whole, then turned off his phone.

When he’d gotten back to the cottage, Veronica wasn’t there. She hadn’t shown up while he showered, still wasn’t there by the time he turned off the lights and settled onto the sofa. And now it looked like she hadn’t come back at all.

Biting back a curse, he fought his way out of the tangle of sheets and stumbled to the bathroom. He took care of business, then stumbled back out again and dragged on shorts and a T-shirt. He grabbed his phone off the kitchen counter and thumbed it on.

He snagged a Mountain Dew from the fridge—he’d taken advantage of the all-inclusiveness of the resort and had them deliver a twelve-pack—then picked up his phone and called Wyatt.

It rang five times before Wyatt’s sleepy, “H’lo?” sounded in his ear.

“Did you see Veronica last night?”

There was a muffled rustling of sheets, a low murmur, then, “Shane?”

“Yeah. Did you see her?”

“About sunset,” Wyatt mumbled. “We had a drink on the beach and talked for a few minutes. Why?”

Shane popped the tab on the can of pop. “She didn’t come back last night.”

“Hang on a second.” There was a soft grunt and a rustle of sheets. Shane raised the can to his lips for a drink, relishing the ice-cold sweetness as he listened to Seth’s sleepy voice murmuring in the background. Then he heard footsteps, followed by the click of a door shutting.

“Okay, I can talk now.”

Shane winced. “Sorry. I didn’t think you guys would still be in bed.”

“We had a late night, and there’s nothing on the schedule till after lunch today. Don’t worry about it. What about Veronica?”

“She didn’t come back last night.” He set the can on the counter. “She didn’t say anything to you about going out?”

“No, but why would she?” The shrug in Wyatt’s voice was clear.

“What time did you see her? Where was she?”

“I don’t know, it was after dinner. She was sitting on the beach in front of the cottage, watching the sunset.”

Shane narrowed his eyes on the glass doors that led to the patio, and the empty beach beyond.

“If you’re worried, try calling her.”

Shane frowned. “I don’t have her cell number.”

“Want me to get it?” Wyatt said with a yawn. “I can call Delia.”

Shane opened his mouth to reply, then his eyes narrowed as a flash of something moving at the edge of the patio caught his eye. Something that looked like...a hand? “I’ll call you back,” he said and hung up on Wyatt’s confused reply.

Leaving his pop on the counter, Shane strode toward the glass doors, his attention focused on the small shape just off the edge of the patio. By the time he got to the door, he knew what it was. Muttering under his breath, he slid open the door and marched across the patio to the hammock strung there, and the woman asleep in it.

She was snoring, lying on her back under one of the knitted throws from the couch. One hand was curled up by her face, the other hanging over the edge of the hammock so it nearly touched the ground. If it hadn’t been for that hand, he might not have spotted her.

Relieved—and irritated that he’d been worried while she’d been twenty damn feet away the whole time—he scowled at her sleeping form.

She was so damn cute, with her hair all tangled and frizzy from the sea air, her cheeks flushed with sleep. Her mouth was parted slightly, soft and pink. It was sexy as hell, even with the snoring. Though all he could see were the straps over her shoulders, he’d wager she was wearing the same simple black cotton dress she’d had on the day before.

When his fingertips started itching to tug the blanket away so he could see the rest of her, he gave the hammock a nudge with his knee. “Veronica.”

She frowned as the hammock swayed, then continued snoring.

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