Page 122 of Catching Trouble

Sophie’s giggle rang out, fighting for supremacy with the call of the seagulls. Esmé smiled. “She’s so lovely.”

I grinned with her, twisting my hair into a knot at the side of my head. “She is. She hasn’t fully entered her teenage era yet, but she’s inherited Maxime’s quick temper, so I may have to armour up.”

At that moment, Bean picked his way across the pebbles towards Sophie. The two of them were still like sidekicks. He slept in her bed every night—even when she was away at school. Valerie had even allowed him to visit, though she sent him back promptly after he pricked holes in her couches.

With a crunch of pebbles, Maxime pulled up at my shoulder. He looked uncomfortable, brows drawn tight, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I borrow you?”

I shrugged my shoulders at Esmé before following him to the side of the club. “I thought you’d taken yourself off to the freezer.”

Maxime grimaced. “That was the plan. Only I found Fifi and the chef getting extremely friendly in the store cupboard.”

I fought off a grin. It wouldn’t be the first time. They’d grown closer over the last months. According to Fifi, they had a love-hate relationship. But she said the loving outweighed the hating and frankly, I’d never seen her happier.

I reached out and took one of Maxime’s hands. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been a shock.” He shook his head.

“Not really, I’m not blind. But it’s left me with a bit of a problem.”

My tummy twisted. “Like what?” Was he thinking of reprimanding Fifi? Without her at the helm, Méduse would be toast.

With a scowl, Maxime nodded down to where he carried a large dishcloth at his groin. A conveniently timed breeze blew across the beach. It flattened the cloth against his body, revealing a monster erection.

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open.

“I can’t seem to get rid of it. I’ve tried walking, thinking about politics, naming obscure fish genus.” He nibbled at his lip. “I think I might need a little help.”

I giggled. “Max, everyone’s here.”

“Yes, but if we just nipped up to the villa, would anyone really notice? I promise you it won’t take long.”

I looked at him—at the devilish glint in his eyes—then around at our guests. Iris was down on the sun beds where Luc’s grandmother held court. Sophie, having handed off baby Amelie to Luc, was collecting shells for her burgeoning collection, Bean at her heels. And thanks to the waitstaff, everything was under control.

I looked back at Maxime. I should probably encourage him to visit the bathroom and take care ofthingshimself. But then the breeze nudged away the collar of his white shirt. A teasing glimpse of olive skin and blue ink bid me a jaunty, “come on in.” I sucked in a breath, letting it out through my teeth. Why was he impossible to resist?

Against my better judgement, I took his hand, threading my fingers through his and led him towards the steps that led up to the villa.

As we walked together hand in hand, a warm glow settled over me. I was so incredibly happy. Content. There was nodriving need to wander the world looking for somewhere I felt accepted, somewhere I belonged.

Maxime loved me just as I was and I intended to spend the rest of my days wrapped around him. Whether that was in his boat, on his bikeorin his bed, I didn’t mind. Being next to him was the only thing that mattered.

When I reached the first step, I stopped, turning around to meet him chest to chest. With a smile, I brought my hands to his jaw and kissed him gently.

He pulled away, searching my eyes. “What was that for?”

I shrugged and sent him a smile. “Nothing. I just wanted you to know how much I love you.”

He blinked his long dark eyelashes, then brushed strands of hair away from my face. “Likewise,” he whispered. Then he kissed me, slow and tender. And call me an exhibitionist, but I pressed into his erection. The groan that left his body sent me straight to Tingle-Town.

“Chloe, please,” he ground out, voice rough with need.

I pressed a kiss to the ink on his chest—salt, sun, and that steady heart beneath.

“Lead on, Poseidon.”

He didn’t speak. Just took my hand and pulled me with him, step by step, up towards the house.

As we climbed, I smiled.

If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be here—happy, settled, and slowing down—I’d have scoffed. But in my blissful slide into coupledom and responsibility, I’d learned that love wasn’t about travel, trailblazing or ticking boxes. It was about finding the one man who didn’t try to anchor me—just drifted beside me, steady as the tide.

And that man was Maxime.

And even if he smelled like salt and sin—he was mine.