Wrecked (Sons of San Clemente Book 2) (6 page)

His eyes narrowed and she remembered his ‘no lies’ clause, and even though she’d never lied to him, she wanted to somehow brush off her freak out.

“Sorry. Low blood sugar, maybe.” She hedged at the darkness in his expression—stormy blue black. “You just surprised me. I wasn’t planning on the naked part.”

“You and me in the same room and naked didn’t come to mind?” he drawled. “You’ve never kept your clothes on around me.”

“That was a long time ago.” She could feel the blush burn to her roots and silently cursed her fair skin. “Long, long, long time ago.” She muttered.

“In a galaxy far, far away.” He finished and one long, brown finger slid across her cheek, and she felt the thrill all the way to her toes. “Six years is not that long, duchess. Not long enough to begin to forget.”

She couldn’t look away from the warmth in the deep blue of his eyes. His heated gaze was like a wave washing over her, knocking her off her feet, and carrying her away from any hope of balance, stability.

“It’s not like you were any better keeping your clothes on.” She accused, striving for sarcastic but only sounding breathless.

He laughed and the deep husky timber went straight to her bones. “True, and no plans to improve.”

That stabbed at her. How many women he’d been with? Before her. During her. After her.

His shorts fell to the ground. Her air whooshed out as the dark blue and aqua blue puddled at her feet. She stood up and stared at the hard planes of his face.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

His face shuttered. “For which part?”

That kicked up her temper. He’d hurt her, not the other way around. Every time she’d been away or he was on the circuit, she’d seen pictures of him posted with women all around him. Barely clothed and often drunk women. Touching him.

“The past is the past,” she said in a hard voice. “Let’s just get this done.”

“Get this done,” he echoed softly, his breath teasing her cheek as he bent to look into her eyes. “I must truly be losing my touch.”

Hollis jerked on the water, angry and terrified at the same time. Losing his touch. If only that were true.

K
adan closed his eyes and let the hot water just roll over his body. He felt as if the past few weeks, all the pain and worry and anger began to jar loose and partially wash away. For a moment, when he’d seen the doubt and desire war in Hollis’ eyes, he’d felt a spark of his old self, and he wanted to savor that. Duchess was back and from the hunted look in her eyes, she wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry. He had time on his side for once.

A twinge of guilt shot through him. Something in her life had gone very wrong. He should be trying to help her, not celebrate that she was back in San Clemente and, for the moment, back in his life. It wasn’t as if he could really act on anything. They’d danced this dance before, but always her insecurity and jealousy and accusations had ruined them. She needed to find a man who wanted the whole package, marriage, house, regular job, kids. His stomach rolled over at the thought, especially as his career, which had driven him for more than half his life, was most likely over. What the hell was he going to do now? Who would he even be if he couldn’t compete?

He bit back a groan.

“What hurts?” Hollis flipped off the water.

His eyes snapped open. He had to stay focused on the present, not the past or everything that was currently wrong with his life.

“You haven’t shampooed my hair.”

“Something wrong with your arms?” She rolled her eyes and handed him a bottle of tea tree oil shampoo.

He considered making some kind of pathetic excuse for help, but decided he was damaged enough and didn’t need any help looking old and disabled and ineffective. His gut churned with distaste. He popped the lid with his thumb, poured a little shampoo in his palm, and lathered up before running his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

Her swallow was audible. She’d always loved to wash his hair. She nearly always had jumped in the shower with him, abandoning her pretense of “saving water,” after her first time spending the night. Kadan remembered how she would lather up the shampoo that she’d made and massage his scalp and run her strong hands down his back, his butt, his thighs, and then...he laughed as he felt his erection stirring to life.

Proof that he wasn’t as dead as he’d felt, but hardly something Hollis would welcome at this point.

“I’ll just step outside,” she said, sounding strangled.

Part of him wanted to ask her to stay, to watch him as he washed to see if she were really as immune to him as she wanted him to think, but another part of him was pissed that she had to see him this way. Injured. Diminished. Unable to do basic tasks without help. He wasn’t twenty-five anymore and Hollis wasn’t some idiot fan, who didn’t know the first thing about career ending injuries. She’d seen worse, much worse working with soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan. His ankle and foot was nothing to her. And his hip, too, if she even knew about it, would be nothing.
Suck it up
. He could practically hear her taunt.

He jerked a nod. Angry that he was still needling her, desiring her. Been there. Done that. Disaster for both.

He barely noticed her duck out of the bathroom. This was so stupid. In disgust with his failed body and pity party, he tossed the head of the shower aside where it hit the tile hard and clattered to the floor. Bracing himself on the chair, he tried to stand up.

“Kadan,” Hollis shouted, and raced back to the bathroom and grabbed him from behind and wrapping her arms around his body. He could feel her strength. He’d always liked her muscles. “What happened? Did you fall?” She pushed him back into the chair.

“You shouldn’t stand up without me. Ughech.” The strangled noise she made when the showerhead water hit her in the face was adorable and almost cut through his embarrassment that she thought she had to rescue him.

“That went really well from my point of view,” he said coolly, noting that her thin cotton tank was now drenched and clinging to her slim body.

She picked up the shower head and held it over him. “You’re lucky I don’t turn this ice cold.”

“I commend your restraint, duchess.”

She turned off the water.

“Here.” She handed him a towel. “If you’re smart, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

“No one ever accused me of being smart, duchess.” He felt a smile bloom inside when her lips twitched up.

“No, they didn’t, Kadan. But,” she paused, her face serious again, “they were wrong.” She sucked in a deep breath, and her next words were a punch to his gut. “My grandmother,” she said shakily, and he held out his hand as if that would stop her, “she saw a lot in you.”

He caught her hand.

There was so much to say, but he’d never done words well. That had always been Hollis’ gift and curse.

“She did.” His voice choked a little. “She always tried to see the good in people,” he said softly. “I didn’t deserve it, but...”

“You did,” Hollis said fiercely. She pressed her fingers against his mouth.

He felt her touch all the way to his toes. Unfortunately, it was not his toes that reacted. And the towel didn’t begin to disguise his reaction to her.

“Now, shut up. I’m going to help you up. Then you can get dressed while I make you a smoothie.”

“Maybe you should supervise me more closely as I dress.”

“Don’t reduce everything to sex,” she said.

“What else is there?”

Kadan laughed when she practically threw his crutches at him.

S
he bit back a curse when his towel slipped. She fled the bathroom and stalked back to the kitchen. Trying to settle her heart back to a normal rhythm and reminding her over-sexed self that she and Kadan were so done, Hollis rapidly peeled a banana to throw in a blender, where she’d already pushed in some green leafy veggies.

“Is that kale?”

She jumped. “Damn, you still walk like a cat even injured.”

“Meow. Kale?”

“Yes. And you’re going to shut up and drink it.”

She threw in a few more ingredients, mainly to sweeten it a bit since she expected Kadan to balk and to mitigate the green color somewhat since men were still babies about their vegetables. She was so rattled by his closeness that she nearly hit the power button before putting on the lid. He slammed it on just as she pushed.

“Good reflexes.” She bit her lip, hating that it was so obvious that he still got to her. She might as well take out a full page ad in the LA Times, announcing that yes, she was still stupidly attracted to and undone by Kadan Carson. She looked at the consistency of the liquid and pushed stop.

This was one of her favorite, go-to smoothies. It was healthy and tasty, but she’d made extra since Kadan was a tall man and healing. She hadn’t planned to be feeding an extra person. She’d have to go to the grocery store soon. A risk in a town where she’d grown up and didn’t want to see anyone she knew. And tricky financially. Her money had to last. But if she hit him up for grocery money she’d seem mean. And he’d know that she was in trouble. She shouldn’t have money problems. Look at her family. Look at her education. Look how far she’d fallen.
That took skill
.

“You’ve gone far away,” he said softly, his thumb tracing her downturned lips.

“Stop touching me all the time.” She pushed past him, wanting to get away, far, far away from him, but even further from herself.

“What is it? What’s happened?”

His kindness nearly undid her.

She didn’t bother to lie. Despite what he thought, she’d never been good at it. Instead, she grabbed two glasses and poured out the smoothie.

“Drink.”

“Hollis.”

“Just drink. Please. Drink.”

Because if he kept at her, she’d tell him. Hadn’t she always told him everything. All her dreams. Her troubles. Her happiness. It had always bubbled out of her and on to him. God, she’d been so young. So stupid. And he’d always been there. The only one she’d been able to cry on and cling to when Holland had died.

She drained her glass like it had alcohol in it. Or a forget drug so she’d make it through the day without screaming or crying or throwing something.

“I’m going to need to go to the grocery store.” She announced.

It couldn’t be put off since she hadn’t brought much normal food. Mostly healthy grazing snacks. Nothing a man could really sink his teeth into.

“I’ll get stuff for fish tacos for tonight.”

“Hollis, you don’t have to cook for me,” he said, trying to look her in the eye, but she kept turning away from him.

“You gotta eat. I gotta eat. It’s no big deal. I like cooking. I do it a lot.”

“Can I come with you?”

She opened her mouth to say no, but if the walls felt like they were closing in on her, imagine what he felt like. Still, she hesitated. She needed space from him. Probably from herself as well. If only that were possible.

“I was planning on a bit of a drive.” She hedged.

“Because 1,800 miles in a couple of days isn’t enough driving.”

She pressed her lips tightly together to keep from trying to explain.

“It’s okay, duchess. A drive would be great. Just wear your sunglasses and a hat, and we should stay incognito.”

She laughed, although it sounded brittle even to her ears.

“There’s not a beach you could go to in the world where you wouldn’t be recognized,” she said.

He was six feet three of lean, tan, chiseled male godhood. And then there was the world famous surfer aspect of him. And his dark, shaggy, wavy hair that begged to be finger combed back from his sky-high cheekbones.

“Then let’s not hit a beach,” he said.