Page 3 of Resting Beach Face
She waved her hand toward the door.
I rolled my eyes. “You should be so lucky. Don’t worry. Declan has absolutely zero interest in you or me.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I think you should go.”
I sighed and raked my hands through my hair. Thought about whether I could still salvage my sleeping arrangement. If I grabbed her, kissed her, put my hands and tongue to work, I could persuade her.
I hesitated too long.
Amy gave me a shove. “Just go!”
“Okay, okay,” I said, fending her off. “No need to get all violent and shit.”
“Get out of my room now! I hope your weirdo is worth losing all this!”
She gestured to her body as if it were a prize—and granted, she was a lovely woman—but the idea that skipping a night with her was any great loss made me chuckle.
I ducked out the door just before a vase hit it with a crash.
Oops. Declan would not be happy about that.
I halfway expected him to be waiting outside with his disapproving glare and orders for me to straighten up. But the hallway was dark and empty. I slunk down it, torn about what to do next.
Declan was gone to bed, as were all the guests. I paused, eyeing the sofa in the living room.
I could just wait a couple hours to ensure my dad was out cold, then walk to our place on the other side of the park. The thought of sneaking past him snoring on the couch in the same stained tank top—the coffee table littered with cheap-ass Pabst beer cans—and climbing into my too-small twin to sleep in a house steeped in hate and regret did not appeal at all.
At least Katelyn wasn’t there tonight. She was staying over with a friend. A tactic she often used during the summer, and good for her. I’d done that shit when I was in high school, too. Now that I was an adult, it was actually more difficult because my friends had all moved out of their parents’ places and hadtheir own lives. Even Brooks had unchained himself from the bar and was shacking up with that pretty Skylar.
I sighed and sank back against the cushions, my eyes growing heavy. Maybe I could just stay here a little while longer. I’d clear out before morning…
Declan
I rolled onto my right side, the faint ache in my lower back nagging me awake. I’d overdone it in the garden, trying to get my last fertilizing of the summer in before it was too late. I should have used the wheelbarrow, but I got impatient and lugged heavy bags around like I was twenty years younger.
Not that I’d been sleepingwell,anyway. I huffed an annoyed breath and flipped my pillow to the cool side. I closed my eyes, but they sprang open a second later. I was restless. Uncomfortable.Thirsty.
I blamed Cash Hicks.
He had to stop rolling through here like a tumbleweed. I should be used to him turning up with his flavor of the night. Iwasused to it. In the beginning, I’d seen Cash as a minor nuisance. An immature fuckboy who was sowing his wild oats, but as long as guests wanted that sexual energy in their rooms, it wasn’t my problem.
Then he turned that seductive smile on me. And, well…I’d have preferred that he didn’t. For one, it didn’t make any sense. What did he see inmewhen he was hooking up with half of the Swallow Cove tourist population? Secondly, I’d never been comfortable with things of a more intimate nature. My ex-boyfriend had called me cold, uptight, guarded. Take your pick.But no matter how I shot down Cash, he always had a smile for me.
A smile that didn’talwaysreach his eyes.
I threw back the blankets and got up, unable to ignore my bladder’s urging even though it was nowhere near morning. Once that was done, my thirst renewed itself and I resigned myself to being awake.
I headed out of my private quarters to get a glass of water in the kitchen. I gulped cool tap water, sighing with relief, and started the trek back to my room. I could read for a while or maybe start a crossword puzzle to unwind…
A shadow moved in my peripheral vision. I stopped and turned. A man-sized shape slumped on the sofa in the great room. Had a guest returned drunk?
Hesitantly, I crouched down by the sofa and put my hand on his shoulder.
He exhaled softly—and though the idea of recognizing someone’s breath seemed ridiculous, I instantly knew it was Cash.
“Hey.” I shook him gently. “You okay?”
Cash turned over, his eyebrows drawn together and his lips parted, but his eyes still firmly shut. I had an up-close view of his objectively gorgeous face. He had nicely symmetrical features. His nose was straight and not too big. His lips were full but not too pouty. Stubble darkened his jaw. He really should shave more, but Cash seemed to like the scruffy look, and judging by how many people he took to bed, others did, too. There was a certain rakish charm to it that fit his personality, I supposed.
