Page 72 of Tender Heart
“Winking? Really, old man?”
The joy leaches from his face, and he pushes to stand. Marching to where I am perched on the side of the rock pool, he grabs my waist and hauls me up onto his. His teeth nip at my breasts through my T-shirt. I lean back, a soft moan slipping past my lips. The delicious assault pauses, and I look back down.
“Who you calling old, brat?”
I’m dropped to my feet as he swats my ass and returns to his oyster hunt.
I’ve never been so turned on in my life from such a short interaction.
I like this version of me. The way this feels, being here. Being squared away on this island with Callum.
But this isn’t my life—it’s a temporary solace to ensure my productivity is restored. And it is. I’m grateful.
But I can’t help thinking, now that I’ve found all this...
How will I ever go back to the city? To a world Callum’s not a part of.
So manybuts.
With a full belly and a fire blazing in the small wood stove, I sit on the blankets, Callum beside me, drinking the only drop of alcohol he brought. It’s whiskey, and it’s harsh. It warms me from the inside as it slides down, and my body tingles. I look around the hut, wondering why he came out here. There is even less here than back at the house in his little shack. And at least that has running water in its tiny sink.
His attention is lost to the flickering amber flames.
“Penny?” I ask.
He drops his head and huffs out a breath. “You don’t want my thoughts, baby girl.”
I can’t help but smile at the pet name. Cal looks up at me, and my smile melts with the sadness reflecting in his blues, so I offer, “Maybe two, then, because it looks like the thought oughta come out.”
He nods, a shallow movement. “Possibly.”
I wind my arms around my knees and rest my head on his shoulder. “We have all night...”
The words are no better than a whisper. The hint of permanent longing flickers to life when I think of all the ways we could spend an entire night. The heat from the fire is suddenly overwhelming. But I don’t move from his shoulder. I don’t want to.
I don’t want to move from here.
“Was thinking about the last time I was here.” His voice is rough.
“With your family?” I ask softly.
“No, after that.”
What doesthatmean?
“Oh?” I lift my head, tilting it, desperate to get a glance of what’s written on his face. But he continues, and I drop my gaze to the fire.
“It was after Ava. I was in a bad place. This hut’s always been a kind of solace for me. Like the only place I want to be when life implodes on me, you know?”
My thoughts drag their knuckles back to the accident. The whir of sounds, the heartache barely dimmed by time. “Yeah, I think I do.”
“Nobody—” He clears his throat. “The town, they didn’t like the idea of me and Ava. She was the golden girl, the mayor’s only daughter. Adored by every single person.” He shifts on his seat with a strained swallow, and I sit up and slide my arm through his as he continues. “I was a bad influence after I lost my parents. Went off the rails. Iris almost disowned me, I’m sure of it. Then Ava walked into my life and it was like something just clicked. We were inseparable. So many folks tried to talk her out of dating me. We were young. She was seventeen. I was twenty-two. Didn’t help that I rode an Indian.” He huffs a strained noise that sounds like amusement.
Excuse me?
“An Indian?” I ask, an eyebrow raised.
“An Indian motorcycle. A ’99 Chief. Black, leather. She was a beauty.”
