Page 13 of Island Guardian (Brookwell Island #7)

Chapter Eight

Rhett did a double take when Trina emerged from his bedroom the next morning. He’d had a rough night on the couch, knowing she was in his bed. So close and absolutely too far away.

He wanted to find an excuse to duck into his room and bury his face in her pillow.

The right move was to ignore that notion and any similar ideas. This wasn’t the right time to reveal his attraction and infatuation.

She didn’t make it easy. A little bleary-eyed, she still looked amazing in another curve hugging dress, this one in a red and pink print with a full skirt that stopped at her knees.

Narrow sheer panels added tantalizing detail around the neckline.

Her makeup was flawless and she’d gathered her hair up in a casual twist, a few curls loosely framing her face.

Her feet were bare, strappy sandals dangling from one finger.

Thoughts and feelings had him jumbled up. He wanted to swoop in and kiss her rosy lips. Somehow, he managed to say good morning .

“Good morning.” She abruptly turned away, covering a yawn with her free hand.

“You didn’t sleep well?” He blamed himself for pushing too hard. “Should we take the day to rest?” They had some wiggle room in the schedule.

She waved off his concern. “I slept fine, thank you. Is there coffee?”

“Of course.” Bleary-eyed was better than scared, and a problem solved easily with caffeine. And though he was sure she still had doubts, she kept choosing this path with him over the marriage her parents were pushing. Silently, he vowed to make this as easy and romantic for her as possible.

“Would you prefer espresso?”

Everything about her seemed to lift with hope. Making her more beautiful still.

“You have espresso?”

He pointed to the machine just over his shoulder. “At your service.”

“Oh, yes please.”

“Coming right up.” He patted one of the counter stools. “Have a seat.”

While the machine did its thing he pulled two breakfast trays out of the warming oven and set them on the island in front of her.

Anticipation filled her big brown eyes. “That smells divine.”

“It should. It’s room service.” He winked.

She sighed. “Isn’t that one of the best things about hotel life?” she asked. “I do love to cook, but I enjoy it so much more when I have the time to do it right.”

“More lessons from your nonna?”

Her sudden smile struck him like a sunbeam. “I’m that obvious?”

“A lucky guess.” He served her the espresso and poured plain black coffee for himself. They both caffeinated in a companionable silence for a few minutes.

“You want to share the agenda running through your head?” she asked. “I think I can follow along now.”

He didn’t bother denying it. Though he wondered how she read him so well. Cradling his coffee cup in both hands, he said, “If we take care of the marriage license first thing today, we have plenty of options to fit in sightseeing and wedding planning.”

“Makes sense,” she agreed.

“I didn’t make an appointment, so we’ll probably have to wait a bit.”

“Will that mess up Ilsa’s schedule?”

He pulled out his phone and pulled up the message from the wedding coordinator. Trina leaned forward, read the message, and sat back with a short giggle. “She’s cleared the whole day? Lucky us.”

“Lucky us,” he echoed. The previous email, one he hadn’t shared with Trina, had been a discussion about wedding rings—stones, settings, and styles—and venue options he thought she’d enjoy.

She lifted the cover from the plate closest to her. “Maple sausage?” she queried.

“Among other things.” He’d requested French toast and a veggie omelet to give her plenty of choices. “Dig in. The office opens at nine.”

“I’m famished,” she said, picking up her fork. “Thanks.”

They talked more about room service menus and memorable chefs they’d worked with through their careers. He got the impression she was deliberately avoiding wedding talk. He didn’t mind. They’d be talking it over plenty in another couple of hours.

When they finished breakfast he pocketed his wallet, phone, and passport while she slipped on her sandals and grabbed her purse.

The shoes gave her a subtle height boost and he had to drag his attention away from her mouth.

Was there any way to make sure he could kiss her on their wedding day?

It was usually part of the ceremony, but he’d cope with it if she opted out.

Obviously.

He wasn’t a pushy bastard, just a regular man who was increasingly attracted to a woman who didn’t seem to share the same level of interest.

What did he expect? It wasn’t as if they shared the same close friendship as their fathers. The opposite, actually. Up until a few months ago, he could barely think of her without annoyance or outright animosity, harboring sour feelings over the way she outshined him back in college.

He’d done a helluva one-eighty since finding her upset and scared on the beach last night.

That wasn’t entirely accurate. He hadn’t looked at her as the enemy before France, only after she’d defeated him time and again during their program.

Now, over a decade later, he silently vowed to earn her trust and confidence in him and his commitment to this wacky plan. His commitment to protecting her.

“I’m looking forward to meeting Ilsa,” she said as they walked toward the clerk’s office.

He casually offered his hand, feeling victorious when she seized it. “You two will adore each other,” he promised.

To their mutual surprise, they didn’t have to wait more than a few minutes before their paperwork was reviewed and they were issued a marriage license.

“That seems way too easy,” she observed under her breath as they walked back to the car.

“Take the win,” he urged. “Gives you and Ilsa more time to bond.”

She smiled at him, her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses as he opened the car door for her. “You really think the world of her.”

He nodded. “She’s amazing. You’ll see.”

She didn’t immediately move into the passenger seat. Instead, she lingered, way too close for his comfort. He was too aware of her, of how the sunshine sparked off her glossy hair and warmed her skin, lifting her scent to wind around him.

“Trina?”

Her fingers lightly covered his where he clung to the top of the open door. “I need to say it one more time.” Her full lips pressed together for a moment. “Having an option is a relief in and of itself. But going through with it? I’m worried this will screw up our lives. Mine’s a mess, but yours?—”

“Let me stop you right there.” He had to pause before he leaned in and stole a kiss she wasn’t offering. “I will disagree with you one more time. Or as many times as it takes. I’m in.”

“But, Rhett.”

He shook his head. “You were afraid last night.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Then this is where I need to be. Where I want to be.”

She gave a small, jerky nod. “Okay.” And finally showed some mercy and slipped into the car.

He closed the door, deliberately ignoring the glimpse of her legs as the skirt drifted higher.

Once he was behind the steering wheel, the engine humming, he sent Ilsa a text that they were headed her way.

“Does she know this is fake?” Trina asked.

“Only if we tell her it is,” he replied. “She might suspect, since this is the first anyone has heard of me in a relationship.” He glanced over and caught her nibbling on her lip. “Don’t worry. We’re doing everything the right way. Everyone will buy in. You’ll see.”

“Mm-hm.” Her skepticism was clear enough. “I’m sure you’re right.” She shook out her hands. “Don’t you worry…” Her voice trailed off.

Her head tipped to the side and he knew what she was thinking. “That everyone will think it’s weird that it’s me.” He said what they were both thinking.

“Yes, exactly. And it’s terribly insulting to you, even as a thought inside my head.”

“Stranger things have happened than you and I having a secret romance.” At her snort, he plowed on. “I’ll do my best to make it easy for you to play the role of my wife in public. It’s not like we’ll be out and about together all the time.”

“Clearly you’ve forgotten how Brookwell works,” she said. “I will try, I promise.”

He hadn’t forgotten the quirks of the small town or the active gossip grapevine.

“You have to be yourself, Trina. That’s all.

” He couldn’t shake the image of her frightened and teary on the beach.

He didn’t need the whole story on Luca until she was ready to share, but backing out of this plan was a bad idea.

“No one’s ever seen you in a relationship, right? ”

“That’s true,” she said, thoughtfully.

Driving a courtesy car, he drove up to the front entrance to make life easier for the valet team. “So we’ll be together, a team. It wouldn’t make sense for either of us to be super affectionate in public anyway.”

“Another good point. I can’t imagine creating any kind of scene in public. Other than when we triumph in trivia.”

He chuckled. With the car parked, the engine off, he turned to her. “Feel better?”

“Much, yes.” She gave him a smile that took him out at the knees.

He had to wait a beat before he climbed out of the car, just to make sure he didn’t trip over his feet. The Trina-effect was potent stuff, at least for him. She always leveled him in the most unexpected moments.

Her beauty had stunned him when he recognized her at the orientation for their internship in France. He hadn’t seen her or thought of her in years. Not since a visit to Italy when they’d all been kids.

But physical beauty was only scraping the surface.

She was smart and creative, with an iron will when it came to any kind of challenge.

He’d seen glimpses of those traits whenever he visited Brookwell with his sister.

Trina went out of her way to be kind to everyone—even him.

As she’d said, they were both making an effort to keep the peace for Harper.

Each interaction with Trina made it easier to view her through the lens of a mature adult rather than the annoyed student he’d been.

He liked the changes he’d allowed himself to see.

Walking around the car, he met her where she waited at the closed passenger door, her purse tucked under one arm. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.” She stepped right up to him and with her teeth worrying her full lower lip, she reached out and took his hand. “Is this okay?”

She might as well have punched him in the heart. “Perfect,” he managed. He was in over his head and realized he couldn’t deny her much of anything. An issue he would have to work on.

Carefully, she wove her fingers through his and he focused on the soft heat, the contrast of her wine-colored fingernails marching along the back of his hand. Still nibbling on her lip, she lifted her gaze to his.

They could stand there at the hotel entrance for a hundred years. He was not about to break whatever spell had come over her. Her smile turned shy, and he felt a subtle tremor through their joined hands. “I will do my best in public to show you the affection of a wife in love.”

“To sell our story,” he croaked.

She swallowed. “Exactly. I’m warning you. I’m not very good at it.”

“You’re doing great.” His body practically vibrated with the need to bring her closer, to tip up her chin and kiss her lightly on those luscious lips.

Tapping into some previously unknown well of willpower, he guided her into the lobby and back toward the admin wing.

He was about to marry a warm and vibrant woman who’d been hiding for too long.

Trina deserved every good thing he could offer.

He wanted her whole story. Wanted to destroy Gallo for whatever he’d done to scare her so badly.

Hell, he’d slay any and all of her dragons until justice and peace filled her heart rather than fear and uncertainty.

He bent his head closer to her ear. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she confessed on a whisper.

“Good. Just remember, whatever you’re comfortable with, I’ll make sure it works.”

A smile teased the corner of her lips. “For the story.”

He could only nod his head. With her so close, the scent of her winding around him, he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. He needed a plan to cope with the way she stirred him up. But right now he had a job to do and a schedule to keep.

He smiled into her deep brown eyes and gave her hand the softest of squeezes. “Let’s get this wedding planned.”