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‘You don’t have to apologise,’ Quin said tightly. ‘This is your space, and while you’re here you’re our guest. I should have knocked.’
The way Quin had looked at her since they’d met again—with something veering between disgust and severe distrust—made her wonder how much control it was taking for him to be so civil. But she didn’t want to give him any excuse to kick her off his property. Out of their lives.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I do really appreciate that you’re letting me stay.’
‘Sol was asking if you were still here.’
Sadie’s chest tightened at the mention of her son. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
Quin glanced at his watch. ‘We’ll have supper in about an hour.’
‘Okay.’ Sadie watched Quin leave and disappear back into the trees.
She sat down on the end of the bed, deflating. Absurd to feel so hurt by Quin’s coolness, especially after everything that had happened.
She was here now, and she was free to pursue a life with her son—that was all that mattered. Whatever bond she’d had with Quin was well and truly broken.
CHAPTER FOUR
QUINDIDN’TLIKEthe way it felt to hear Sadie’s distinctively low-pitched voice mingling with Sol’s more high-pitched excitable tone, both emanating from his bedroom, where Sol had demanded she come as soon as she’d appeared at the house a short while before.
It felt disturbing and arousing and a million things all at once.
He’d all but shut the door on Sadie ever being a part of their lives again. It was conflicting, inspiring too many things for him to unpick. But one stood out... The hum in his blood when he heard her now. The slow-burning lick of desire, coiling his insides tight.
It had been like that from the moment he’d seen her.
The first day he’d laid eyes on her would be seared onto his memory for ever, whether he liked it or not. He’d been living in Sao Sebastiao for a few months by then, and one day he’d noticed a young woman on the beach, in the water, surfing...or attempting to surf...inelegantly.
He’d been intrigued by her because she’d seemed to be by herself. No friends. Like him. He’d watched her attempt to catch waves, and fail, and then get up and try again. Her tenacity had impressed him.
As had her physicality. The slim, lithe limbs. Toned muscles. He’d been able to tell she was pretty, even from a distance, but he’d had no idea how pretty until he’d seen her up close a couple of days later.
She’d disappeared from the beach after that first sighting, he’d thought he wouldn’t see her again, until he’d walked into the local barber shop and she’d greeted him.
As soon as their eyes had met he’d felt it like a surge of electricity, all the way through his body. And he’d realised,She’s not pretty...she’s beautiful.Those wide aquamarine eyes, that straight nose, wide mouth. Dark hair...darker than it was now. Framing her face and making her look pale, in spite of the sun-kissed glow and freckles.
She’d cut his hair and it had felt like a more intimate act than sex. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. Her hands were small and deft, nails short. Unvarnished. And, against every instinct within him that had always told him not to trust women, there was something about Sadie, uniquely, that had lodged under his skin from that first meeting and started to dismantle all those defences without him even noticing.
He’d asked her out. But she’d declined. Not meeting his eye. He’d come back and asked her out again the next day. She’d blushed, but declined again, looking genuinely conflicted.
It had been the following day when he’d seen her trying to surf again and had witnessed the accident. She’d disappeared under the water for too long. He could remember the sense of panic as he’d raced to find her and pull her out of the water, giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. The blood had flowed from a gash on her head.
When the emergency crew had arrived they’d just assumed he knew her, and without even questioning it he’d accompanied her to the hospital. When she’d woken, she’d frowned at Quin and said in a cracked voice, ‘Do I know you?’
He’d almost been insulted—he knew he’d made an impression on her—but then it had transpired very quickly that she didn’t remember anything at all from before the moment of the accident. Not her name or where she came from. She spoke with an English accent.Heknew her name and where she worked because they’d met at the barber shop. When no one had come looking for her, Quin had offered to be the one to watch over her for the first few days after she left the hospital.
She’d had to be supervised, in case of further after-effects from her head injury. But, apart from the memory loss and the nasty gash on her head, there had been no further injuries or trauma.
Quin had taken her to the barber shop, where they’d told her where she lived, and they’d gone there—a small, modest studio apartment a few blocks from the beach. There had been no identifying things there, like pictures. Her mobile phone was gone—lost or stolen. The number had been inactive when he’d tried calling it. They’d found her passport, listing her as Sadie Ryan, twenty years old, with no next of kin. Born in Dublin, Ireland.
This had confused Sadie, and she’d said, ‘That doesn’t sound right. I don’t have an Irish accent...and I don’t think I’ve ever been there.’
The doctor had warned Quin not to let her get stressed, so he’d told her not to worry about it too much and that he’d look into trying to trace her and her family. Then they’d packed up her things so she could stay with him, as his beach bungalow had two bedrooms.
While she’d slept in the spare room he’d looked her up online and found no trace of her. Nothing. No social media presence. No records. No one seemed to be looking for her. Odd... But then a modest-sized city on the coast of Brazil, more akin to a sleepy beach town, was full of such nomads. He should have known—he was one of them.
He’d offered to put her details online with a picture, to advertise that she was looking for relatives, but she’d had the oddest reaction—one of almost fear. She’d said that she couldn’t explain why, but she didn’t want him to do that. So he hadn’t.