His Christmas Present (19 page)

In the end, as long as he took it slowly,
the going was relatively easy. They walked to the shoreline, and he let the
waves wash over his good leg, smiling as Brandon leapt in and out and growled
at the water as if it were a live thing. Eamon skimmed stones, and Hamish
filled his lungs with sea air, the breeze cleansing him inside and out. His
father had been right. He needed time and peace. Maybe then he’d be able to
come to terms with what had happened to him.

He followed the shoreline to the north, and
his gaze halted as it fell on a figure a couple hundred yards away. The woman’s
long brown hair lifted in the wind, and she raised a hand to brush it out of
her eyes. She wore a light blue T-shirt and denim shorts. She began to walk
toward them, and his heart gave a strange thump, even though he didn’t
recognize her.

As she neared, Brandon noticed her and went
bounding up the sand. Hamish called out, but the boxer ignored him. Eamon
turned, and the two of them watched as the dog reached her and covered her in
wet kisses, making her laugh.

“I’ll be damned.” Eamon put his hands on
his hips.

The speech center of Hamish’s brain refused
to work, and he could only watch as she pushed the boxer away and came closer.

She walked straight up to him. Without
saying anything, she slipped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek on
his chest.

A warm glow spread through him, and he
lifted one hand and rested it on her back. “You must be Rose.”

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