Page 41 of The Bossy One

“That’s my girl,” he said, the warmth in his voice doing something to me. I could feel his eyes on me as I rubbed the lotion on my legs. A tiny, vain part of me wished I’d worn a sexier suit. But I’d packed for work, not vacation, so all I had was my practical black one-piece. At least the halter-top design made my boobs look amazing.

I passed Declan the sunscreen and turned my back to him. “Your turn,” I said, trying not to think too much about this.

Declan gently scooped my hair to the side and tucked it over the front of my shoulder to expose my neck. Then he spread sunscreen over my upper back in smooth, easy strokes.

“Can you, um, get under the tie at the back of my neck?” I asked awkwardly. “It moves a bit, and then I get burned…”

He gently lifted the back of the tie and used his fingers to work the sunscreen all around the base of my neck. When he finished, my breath felt a bit shallow.

I popped to my feet, avoiding his eyes. “Right! Time for a swim.”

Catie was more than happy to join me, but I didn’t take her out farther than my hips, and I kept her hand in mine. I didn’t know the tides here.

But Declan did. He swam out farther, weaving through the water with a fluid, masculine grace before coming back toward Catie and me. As the water got shallower, he moved from swimming to striding through the water. I watched the water sluice down his chest and thought the kinds of thoughts straight women always think when watching hot men emerge from water.

He splashed me and Catie, who shrieked. Catie and I returned fire until we were all soaked, cold, and laughing. When we walked back up to our blanket, Catie returned to her sandcastle masterpiece, while Declan and I flopped down on the blankets.

“I like the idea of going somewhere good on the anniversary of a loved one’s death,” Declan said quietly. I understood instantly that he was talking about his dad. “Mostly I avoid the people and places I don’t want to be. But I like the idea of goingtosomething instead.”

“What was he like?” I asked, rolling my head to look at him.

Declan smiled up at the sky. “He was just this calm, good man. He saw the best in anyone and everyone. I remember going to get a glass of water one night when I was maybe ten. One of his mates was over, clearly upset about something. I just remember my da saying, ‘You know it won’t come to that. You’ve got a whole net of people here to catch you, starting with me.’”

“That’s beautiful,” I said.

“He loved Ballybeith,” Declan said. “Even the shit bits.” He rolled his head to watch me. “What about you? What were yours like?”

“Adventurous. Happy.” I smiled. “He worked in real estate, but it was just a job—a way to pay the bills. He loved coming home to me and my mom at the end of the day. Sometimes, when the mood struck them, instead of going to bed, we’d all pile into the car in our pajamas and drive down to the beach. Then we’d park and listen to music while they talked softly in the front seat, and I fell asleep in the backseat.”

“What type of music did you listen to?” Declan asked.

“If my dad picked it, the Stones. If my mom picked it, ABBA.”

“That explains my doorbell,” Declan said, and I laughed. And laughed. I kept laughing, much harder than the joke warranted, until I realized that at some point the laughter had shifted to quiet tears.

“Hey, hey.” He threaded his hand through mine and squeezed. “It’s okay.”

But I don’t have a net of people to catch me, I thought.It’s just me.

And yet, with his hand strong in mine, though, I didn’t feel so alone.

Catie clambered onto the blanket. “Can we read now? Wait, why are you crying?”

I yanked my hand away from Declan as we both sat up. I discreetly swiped at my eyes. “I just remembered something that made me sad. But I’m okay. And I would love to read with you. Let’s see, which books did you bring…” I reached for the tote bag of Catie’s books, feeling confused when I pulled out two identical copies ofEmmy Lou’s Beach Day.

“Why do you have two copies?” I asked, confused.

“One is mine, and one is Uncle Declan’s,” Catie explained. “That way he can read them to me over the phone.”

Oh. Oh, this man. I felt something ache in the vicinity of my heart.

“Yeah, but that’s for when you’re in the States,” Declan said. “We don’t have to do it when you’re here.”

“This one is for me and Miss Olivia,” Catie said. “And this one’s for you. She’s going to read, and you can follow along.”

“Very sensible,” Declan said, his face solemn and his eyes dancing as he accepted the book.

“Read the book now,” Catie said, leaning her damp, wriggly body against my side so she could see the pictures. Both of these books would probably have sand in their spines for the rest of their lives. A matching set, in more ways than one.

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