Now That I've Found You (New York Sullivans #1)(8)

As soon as he’d seen her walking along the cliffs, he’d known something was wrong. If only it had just been a bad breakup. Because Drake couldn’t imagine how eviscerating it would feel to have something like this happen. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he brought his groceries over to the counter where Mona was waiting with his apple pie.

“Anyone you’re planning to share this pie with?” she asked as she rang him up.

Unbidden, Rosalind’s face popped into his head. “Not unless one of my siblings drops by unannounced. I’m here to focus on painting, just like always.”

“I suppose a strapping young man like you must have all the girlfriends you can handle in the city, don’t you?”

He forced a smile. “I’ll see you in a few days, Mona.”

Rain was still coming down as he headed back out to his car. He hadn’t seen a storm like this in years. Visibility was so bad as he pulled out of the parking lot that he wouldn’t be able to drive safely at much more than fifteen miles an hour.

He’d been planning to head straight back to his cottage to force himself to get some work done even if it killed him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Rosalind. Her family had told the press that they were helping her through her ordeal. But was that actually true? From what Drake had seen, it sure didn’t seem to be.

What’s more, he doubted someone from Miami would be used to driving in this kind of fog, with its low visibility. Hating the thought of something else happening to her, he turned left out of the parking lot in the same direction she’d gone a few minutes earlier, rather than heading back toward home. It wasn’t likely that he’d run into her again, but he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least check to make sure something hadn’t happened to her or her car in the storm.

Less than five minutes later, when he saw her car on the side of the road, he knew his gut had been right. He pulled up behind the old car and got out, expecting to see her sitting inside waiting for help. But she was nowhere to be seen.

Was she actually walking on the side of the road in this weather?

Cursing, he ran back to his car, put it into gear, then pulled back onto the narrow two-lane road, squinting through the thick rain and fog in which his windshield wipers and headlights were barely making a dent. Finally—thank God—he saw her walking a hundred feet ahead with her head down and her shoulders hunched against the force of the rain.

The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally skid into her, so he carefully pulled to the side of the road again before jumping out of his car. “Rosalind!”

Even through the fog, he swore he could see how big, how scared her eyes were as she turned at the sound of her name. A beat later, she started moving even faster down the road, away from him.

He didn’t blame her for running, considering what had happened. But that didn’t mean he could let her stay out here on a seriously dangerous stretch of road in the middle of a storm.

For the second time in one day, he went running after her. Only this time he didn’t stop halfway there. Not when he knew precisely how much she needed someone to help her.

He didn’t know what he expected her to do when he caught up to her and put a hand on her arm, but it definitely wasn’t dropping the bag she was holding and whirling around with her fists raised as she yelled, “Go away!”

My God, she was beautiful. And so damned fierce, even when scared and soaking wet, that he now knew for sure exactly where her beauty came from. Not the perfect lines of her jaw. Not the lush curves of her mouth. Not even her incredible figure.

No, it was strength that underlay every other part of her. So much strength that she literally took his breath away.

But just because she was strong didn’t mean she wouldn’t be worried about being out in the middle of nowhere with a man who was a good foot taller and eighty pounds heavier.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised her in a voice loud enough to carry over the rain hammering the pavement. “But walking on the side of the road in this storm isn’t safe.”

“I’ve been fine so far.”

Drake had no doubt whatsoever that she would be fine again one day soon, but sometimes it didn’t matter how strong you were—you still needed help to get over the worst parts. “I saw your car on the side of the road a half mile back. I can help by taking you where you’re trying to go.”

He could see how much she hated needing to accept his offer. But no one could deny the danger in their spot on the side of the narrow road.

Still, she didn’t answer him with words, simply bent down to pick up her soaked bag. Since it had already torn most of the way through, the slightest touch was all it took for the brown paper to split completely. Everything rolled out, with a pack of underwear landing on his foot, followed a moment later by a couple of oranges.

Maybe it was the last straw on a terrible day, because she simply stood there and stared at the mess. Moving quickly, Drake bent down and picked up everything. The TV dinners, tourist shirts and sweats, and especially the underwear, toothbrush, and toothpaste, told him that she hadn’t planned this trip. She’d obviously needed to get the hell away from Miami and had somehow ended up in Montauk.

The only items that didn’t make sense were the colorful spools of thread and the sewing needles. If the magazine article was to be believed, she didn’t have any skills or interests apart from her growing beauty empire. Then again, given the ridiculously embellished stories he’d read about his father and mother over the years, Drake knew better than to believe anything he read.