Storm Surge. Celia Ashley

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СКАЧАТЬ caught his eye out on the purple-shadowed beach. He leaned to the side for a better look through the porch railing. He took another bite off the burger, chewing slowly. “Paige Waters,” he said around the mouthful. “What are you up to?”

      He watched her pace, a few steps one way and then back. She wore jeans rolled up to mid-calf and the water, foaming in evening shadow, purled around her ankles at the tide line. Pulled into a high ponytail, her curly brown hair bobbed and bounced with her head’s movement. She appeared to be talking animatedly. To herself.

      Liam continued to observe her as he finished his meal, his thoughts growing less clinical with every passing minute. Each time they interacted, his necessary detachment became harder to maintain—especially at this moment, with the double whammy of both curiosity and attraction. He set aside his plate and headed out onto the beach, beer in hand. He thought about stopping first to get her one, but decided against it. He didn’t want to appear too friendly. Besides, in her present mood, she’d probably kick sand at him.

      He managed to get within two yards without her noticing. He stopped, crossing his arms. Over the growling waves, her voice carried to him, rising and falling in indistinct agitation.

      “Wouldn’t it be more helpful to bounce all that energy off someone else?”

      She jerked about and lost her balance, the canvas shoes in her right hand sailing from her grip. Liam lurched toward her, snagging her by the arm before she tumbled into the waves. She fell against his chest. The bottle flew to the sand.

      After he set her back on her feet, Paige bent and picked up the bottle, brushing off the sand. She held the container in the air. A glint of evening sun shone on the contents through the clear glass.

      “You were going to offer me used beer?”

      “Used beer?”

      “That bottle didn’t spill, and it’s only half full. You’ve been drinking it.”

      “I have been. But I wasn’t offering it to you.”

      She narrowed her eyes at him—eyes, he noticed, the color of honey—then pushed past him, starting up the sand toward the house. She glanced back. “I’ll take one, thanks.” And off she went at a staggered trot, heading for the stairs leading to the porch.

      Liam hurried past her and leapt up the steps two at a time. At the top, he planted his feet apart to the width of the tread, blocking her way. “What’s wrong, Ms. Waters?”

      “Don’t flirt with me,” she said.

      “Don’t flirt?” Good God, was he? She needed watching and he, of course, was the best candidate for the task. Flirting was both stupid and dangerous. “I’m wondering what’s wrong, that’s all. People don’t stand by the ocean in boisterous conversation with themselves if everything is fine. You haven’t been drinking already?”

      Rolling her eyes, she pushed his leg out of her way and threw herself down into his abandoned chair. “I wish,” she stated in an emphatic manner.

      With a mental shrug, Liam snatched up his empty plate from the porch floor and went inside to grab two more beers. He set the sandy, half-full bottle in the sink. He wasn’t a fanatic who bemoaned a waste of “good beer.” He only drank a few times a month, when he felt a change in the cycle of his life or had worked up a really rip-roaring thirst. Tonight, it was both. He could blame Paige Waters for that.

      Pausing before exiting the kitchen, he tipped his head back to listen. “Are you still here?” he queried softly.

      Nothing. Just as well. He didn’t need to be making those kinds of explanations to Paige. Back outside, he handed Paige one bottle and took the other over to the railing. He hopped up, balancing himself on top, one foot hooked around a baluster and the other leg stretched out along the length of the rail, his spine pressed against the upright post. A month and a half ago, this stunt would have left him on the ground. Little by little he was making the necessary repairs.

      “Would you like the chair?”

      He shook his head. Paige tipped the bottle and her head back with a fluid motion and swallowed a third of the contents in a few gulps. Then she set the bottle on the chair arm, her face twisting in indecision.

      “I don’t think I like beer,” she said.

      Laughing so hard he nearly upended himself over the railing, Liam managed to gasp out a question. “Then why did you demand one?”

      “I don’t know.”

      She didn’t know? He doubted that. “I can get you something else. Water or a glass of apple juice?”

      “I’ll just sip this. It’ll make me drunk, right?”

      “It might. You’re a small person.”

      She nodded, taking a mouthful gingerly.

      “But why do you want it to?”

      “Something somebody told me.”

      Liam slid down from the railing. He kicked the upended crate closer to the chair and sat on it. She kept her gaze on the bottle in her hand as she picked at the label with the edge of her thumbnail. Condensation dripped down her wrist. “Why did you come back to Alcina Cove?”

      Pick. Pick. “I told you.”

      “To find out what happened to your dad. But if that was all you wanted, wouldn’t you have gone straight to the police? They’d be the best source of answers for you. There must be something else. Do you have no family here?”

      She shook her head. Tendrils of hair flicked around her brow and into her eyes. She blinked them out. “Not anymore.”

      He waited in silence.

      “I was told today that we never really know our parents and they never know us. I get that. I understand.” Swig, swallow, face. Pick. Pick. Pick.

      “And?”

      “I guess I need to know them. I need to know what made them tick, why they got together, how things went so horribly awry. Of course, it’s too late. Even if I get answers, they’re hearsay, really. Someone else’s opinion of why they acted as they did.”

      The burger and beets he’d eaten began a revolution in his gut. He wriggled the crate closer, tipping his head to look into her downturned face. “Why do you need to know?”

      “What kind of question is that?”

      “It’s just a question. It’s rather late in the game to be seeking those kinds of answers, and I was wondering why you were putting yourself through it.”

      She began to pull at the label in earnest. Liam took the bottle away. She bowed her head again and stared at her hand, at the thumbnail she had chipped with her actions. After a moment, she put it in her mouth and bit off the sharp edge. He gave her back the beer, sensing she’d drawn into herself, as if to become as small a target as possible. He wondered why. In the past day and a half he’d found her to be feisty and fearless. She had faced him, a rather large stranger, in the darkness without backing down, and he had to admit he admired her for it, although he’d been trying not to.

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