Page 22 of Stick Break
She lets out a breath, shoulders still tight. “Sorry. I know you wanted to catch dinner.”
“I wanted to relax,” I say, simple and true. “Fishing’s helps me with that.”
She looks up at me, cheeks pink, lashes fluttering. And I don’t know if it’s the sunrise, the salt air, or the fact that she just squealed over a flounder—but I might be in trouble here.
6
Charley
“You sure you don’t mind?” I ask, as I hold one of Rip’s big T-shirts against my chest.
“Nah, I have lots. We can run to town later though, if you like, and get you some new clothes. I usually like to go for a walk after the sun goes down.”
The thoughts of going into town makes my stomach knot. Recognition, whispers, phone cameras. It’s the kind of attention I’m trying to avoid. Still…I didn’t exactly pack for an extended hideaway. No big comfy clothes to lounge in. No chill out vibes. “I supposed we could go later, after dinner,” I say casually. Breezy. Not at all panicked.
Is that why he waits until after dark, so no one will notice him?
“There’s also a pub that does Karaoke.” He wags his brow playfully. “You could show me your singing skills.”
“Only if you show me yours.”
He puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head at me, looking utterly adorable. “Haven’t we been over this?”
I snort and duck into the bathroom before his ridiculous cuteness can fry the last of my brain cells. I get out of my sun-dried clothes and into his roomy T-shirt with my only other pair of yoga pants. I check myself in the mirror. Flushed Cheeks. Beach hair. An oversized shirt that smells like him. Honestly, not the worst look. Not that I’m trying to impress anyone here.
When I come out, Rip has changed too. He’s in a clean t-shirt, new shorts, beachy and delicious like an ad for rugged seaside living. He jerks his thumb toward the door. “I’m going to the market. Join me?”
I hesitate. I want to. But Rip likely draws attention like a lighthouse in the dark. Even if no one no one here knows he’s an NHL star, that face and body would break necks anywhere.
“I think I’ll stay here.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t press and I’m grateful. “So…dinner. No fish?”
“I’m not opposed to fish that I didn’t have to catch, or…” I gulp. “Well, you get it.”
“Did you see the fire pit outside. I thought fish over the grill for dinner would be nice. Then maybe later, after the sun sets, we can have a bonfire.”
“I love that.” A weird little bubble of excitement wells up inside of me. The last time I grilled fish over a fire was…never.
He grabs his wallet off the table and shoves it into the side pocket of his shorts. “Be back in a minute. Anything you need.”
“I’d like to make something to go with the fish?”
“Salad?” He blinks, looking hopeful and something tells me the only vegetable he’s eaten lately has come on his fast-food burger.
“Sure and maybe potatoes?” I grin. “I’m getting my carbs when I can.”
“Right carbs. Fish with only salad is stupid.”
“For a minute there I thought you were a monster.”
He lets out a deep belly laugh, one that makes his whole-body shake. It does something funny to my insides.
“Want do you need?” he asks when the laughter dies down. I reach for my purse and he waves a hand to stop me. “I got it Charley.”
I arch a brow. “I crash a peaceful cottage getaway and now you’re grocery shopping to feed me. I must have won the jackpot.”
“Seems like you did.”
