Crazy For Love. Victoria Dahl
“Ouch.”
“I just mean, whatever I might worry about, mostly it’s you. What Thomas did to you…”
The words prompted Thomas to make an appearance inside Chloe’s head like a looped video. He was laughing at a joke, pretending to be the perfect fiancé. Even now, she couldn’t see the selfish, panicked thoughts that must have been turning behind his eyes for months. The truth was unavoidable, but her 20/20 hindsight wasn’t kicking in. He’d seemed fine. Would he look different now?
She hadn’t seen him since the day before the crash. Hadn’t talked to him. What was he supposed to say, anyway? “Hey. Sorry I faked my death in order to escape your love.”
Acid burned in her stomach, but, strangely enough, nothing else hurt very much. Could love wear off that quickly? And if it did, had it really been love at all?
Chloe shook her head, afraid to poke too intently at that question. “The whole point of coming here is to not think about it. Just for a few days. If I can manage that, you can, right?”
“Yeah.” Jenn tilted her head, looking in Chloe’s direction. “I just don’t want you to be hurt any more.”
“What’s going to happen? What can be worse than finding out that your loving fiancé would rather give up everything in the world than marry you? He jumped out of a plane, Jenn. He abandoned his house and his family and his job and he jumped out of a fucking plane in hopes of never seeing me again.”
“Chloe…” Jenn sounded like she might be crying.
“Come on, sweetie. I’m sorry. It’s okay. Thomas was obviously a coward. I knew he was a mama’s boy, but I should’ve seen something more than that, right? I should’ve seen something long before he faked his own death. So part of this must have been my fault, too. I’ll get over it someday. And right now, I’ll just pretend that I’m great because this is a beautiful place and I’m happy.”
“Are you? I’m so glad you like it here. And maybe, after we get back and the hearing’s over, things will get better.”
“Yeah, the press can’t possibly be interested for much longer.” Chloe’s vision had fully adjusted to the dark, and now she could make out the pale, sugary circle in Jenn’s hand. “If you’re so upset that you can’t eat that doughnut, you should give it to me. I’d hate for it to go to waste.”
“Here.”
“Jenn—”
“I’m awful company. I’m tired and the waves gave me a headache, so I’m going to bed. I’ll be more fun tomorrow, I promise. Why don’t you go see your new boyfriend?”
The coyness in her friend’s voice pushed a hesitant smile onto Chloe’s face. “Come on. He hasn’t even pretended to accidentally touch me.”
“I’ve seen him shoot you a few hot looks. And then there’s your lustful staring.”
“There is that.”
“Wander over and see him. He looked wide-awake when we got back.”
Chloe shrugged. She was thinking of wandering over, but she couldn’t decide if she should go in the hopes of luring Max into a make-out session or solving a mystery. Maybe both? The light of his front window beckoned.
Yeah, maybe both.
Jenn stood. “I’m turning in. Go get some nookie for me.” She pressed a kiss to Chloe’s head.
“Get your own nookie,” Chloe said, but Jenn just shook her head.
It was only ten o’clock. The boys were going to be awake for a while yet. Taking a bite of the last doughnut, Chloe craned her neck, trying to see if they were on the porch or not. A slightly darker area of shadow on the porch might’ve been one of the men, or it could’ve just been a chair.
She thought of Max frowning down at those dials, thought of the way he’d checked the hoses and tanks over for long minutes before any of them had splashed into the water.
He was none of her business, really. She’d only been single for a few weeks. Even under normal circumstances, that would be too soon for anything, even a fling. But at least the puzzle of Max Sullivan was taking her mind off her own problems.
Chloe dusted off her hands and headed for the men’s cabin.
Aware of the crabs that scuttled frantically around from the moment the sun set, she stepped carefully across the sand, trying not to cringe every time her foot touched something hard.
“Hi,” a deep voice said. Though she could only make out the outline of a man, she recognized Elliott’s voice. The clink of dishes drifted through the window behind him. “Max is inside.”
“Thanks. I just wanted to ask you to keep an eye on the cabin for me. If Jenn comes looking for me, tell her I’m going for a little late-night swim.”
Glass crashed inside the cabin, and before the last pieces had fallen to the floor, Max jerked the door open from inside. “Hey!” he said brightly.
“Um, is everything all right?”
Elliott started to stand up, but Max waved him down. “Everything’s fine.”
Right. Fine. “Okay… I was just going to take a swim, so if you could—”
“Care for company?”
Despite her plan, Chloe couldn’t keep the doubt from her voice. “You want to go swimming? Right now?”
Dish towel still in hand, Max leaned against the doorjamb, pretending casualness. “Sure,” he said, the straight line of his shoulders giving away his tension. “If you’re going to be there.” Enough light filtered from the living room that she could see his flirtatious smile. He aimed it right at her, oozing charm.
Oh, my God, Max Sullivan was a total faker.
Chloe smiled up at him, letting her expression melt a little. “Sure, Max. That’d be great.”
His shoulders dropped half an inch on his next breath. He tossed the towel aside and jogged down the stairs to join her. Some of her analytical detachment faded as he drew closer. She remembered the way his thighs had flexed in those Speedos, as if the muscles were barely contained by his skin. Man.
“It’s a little cool to swim, isn’t it?” he asked, pausing to wait for her to turn and start their walk. It had taken him all of one second to try to change her mind.
“I like it. It feels…thrilling. Tossed around by the waves in the pitch-black.”
“Mmm. Well, sure, I like to swim at night, but I have a special connection with the sharks who swim after dark, too. It comes with the profession, you know.”
“Sharks?” she asked, just as he’d wanted her to.
“Yeah. They like to hunt at night.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
He nodded. “As long as you’re a strong swimmer. The riptides can be a real bitch this time of night.”
“Oh, sure. I’m pretty strong.”
Her feet finally touched damp, packed sand. She turned and followed the waterline, watching Max’s large feet make hollows in the sand next to her.
Max audibly sighed. “So tell me more about your job,” he said.
She tossed him a smile. “I’m an accountant at a big accounting firm. What do you want me to talk about? Spreadsheets?”
“Okay, then. Tell me about your family.”
“I have a mom and a dad and a big sister. I grew up in Richmond in a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence.”
“No way.”
“Yep.