Straight Flushed (Hot Pursuit #1)(18)



I stepped into the humid, mildly offensive, sulfuric air and slid the glass door shut. As I headed toward the shore, a pair of pelicans glided across the top of the water, skimming it gracefully with the tips of their wide wings before plunging head first into the sea. Ripples formed as they broke the glassy surface and gobbled their dinners, throwing their heads back and sliding their prey down their pouchy throats. It was beautiful.

I heard giggling, and my attention shifted to a couple running by, frolicking gaily, and it ripped a gaping hole in the center of my moment, not to mention my heart. With a shudder of vivid recollection, a picture flashed in my mind of almost an identical moment I’d lived less than two years prior.

Gabe and I had taken a trip to Palmetto Dunes in Hilton Head, South Carolina. It had been at the three month marker where we lived in the euphoric get-to-know-each-other stage and the not-being-able-to-get-enough-of-each-other stage. We were deliciously obsessed and consumed with one another. Thinking back to the time filled my belly with warmth.

How could he have said what he’d said and ended our relationship? I was still having a hard time wrapping my head around it. I didn’t even know if he was aware I’d left. I hoped if he found out he’d realize how ridiculous he’d been and apologize for being insensitive. But he hadn’t called me once in the days since the accident. No phone calls, no texts—nothing. I fought a sudden wave of tears. I cleared my throat and shook my head. There was no purpose in wallowing while I was in paradise. I put my shoulders back and glanced down as I stepped over a wooden walkway bridging a small grassy area to the beach. At the end of the walkway, I stood for one more moment, hands tucked loosely inside my linen shorts admiring the scene. The full-bellied pelicans bobbed listlessly in the water, drifting along where the current took them. Their peace and beauty renewed my serenity.

I closed my eyes and breathed it in, but then something bit me. And another. And another. And another. I yiped and bent over, slapping my ankles, trying to knock whatever was eating me off. I thought the devil himself had lit my skin on fire.

A man trotted toward me. Without hesitation, he picked me up.

“Hang on,” he said. “I need to get you to the water.” My muscles tightened from the surprise as he carried me to the shore. One of his strong hands wrapped around my ribs reminding me that they were still broken and his other cupped the soft skin behind my knee. He stood me at the water’s edge, taking command, splashing and rubbing my legs then he pressed a cold bottle to my ankles. “This will make it feel better for now, but when the welts develop, it’s best to leave them alone,” he said before looking up at me. His flaxen hair shone like ribbons of gold, and the glimmer of the setting sun reflected off his brilliantly blue eyes. At first they showed slight concern before warming into a smile.

“Welts? What did I step on? It hurts like hell.”

“Fire ants,” he said. “They build nests in the sea grass. You have to be careful where you step. Nasty little bastards. They deserved to die.” His eyebrows twitched, and he let out a small laugh then stood, broad shouldered before me. He was completely gorgeous.

“Thanks for your help.” I laughed.

“It’s no problem. Glad I happened to be walking by.” He studied my face for a moment then squinted. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look kind of familiar.”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so.”

He grunted and smiled. “You must have one of those faces.” He glanced briefly at my lips, and I swallowed an inexplicable surge of nervousness. “Be sure to tell whoever you’re renting from that they need to treat the area around the walkway.”

“I will.” I smiled up at him. He was about an inch taller than Gabe, and his eyes up close were even prettier. The pit of my stomach began to tingle and twist. “So, are you the resident fire ant expert around here?” I giggled.

Good god, what was I doing? Flirting? When was the last time I’d done that? Two years, that was when. The sorrow I’d felt moments before surged and headed down the road toward anger. Yes, I was angry—very angry—with Gabe. And I was going to flirt with this man. I was single after all, so there was nothing holding me back.

He chuckled and switched his beer from his right hand to his left. “I’m very familiar with fire ant bites unfortunately. I used to come here as a kid. You’ll be fine. It burns for a few minutes then it should start to fade away.” His eyes, which had been riveted on my face, slowly moved over my body, electrifying the air around us.

“Good, well, um, thanks. I’ll let you get on with your night.” I expected him to walk away and disappear as quickly as he had appeared. My attempt at flirting was transparent and lame. But, instead of leaving, he stayed.

“What kind of a gentleman would I be if I left a beautiful woman in dire need of medical attention? You could be allergic, and I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.” He grinned.

“But I’m not allergic to anything.” I glanced at him over my lashes and bit the inside of my cheek.

He shook his head. “I insist.” Then, he took me by the hand. And, I let him. He led me to his house, five down from mine. As we walked, I was acutely aware of his grip’s gentle authority. “I have some medicine inside the house that’ll help with the stings. Hang out here. I’ll be right back.”

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