Page 27 of Over & Out (Redbeard Cove #3)

Chris

I don’t notice we’re stopping until Hopper turns into a viewpoint tucked into the side of a hill.

I’m still all up in my feels when he kills the engine.

I can’t let him see me like this, so open and vulnerable.

I know his damn rules. I feel like I’m a puddle and reality is a boot about to step in me.

After dismounting, I slip my helmet off, setting it shakily on the bike. Then I walk quickly to the barrier so he doesn’t see my face. It’s dusk now. Everything is shadows of black and navy blue, only a thin strip of color at the horizon.

“Chris!” Hopper calls behind me. “You okay?”

On the other side of the barrier, grass stretches for maybe a dozen feet before dropping away. Beyond that is the wild Pacific.

I hesitate, then swing a leg over the metal guardrail.

“Whoa, Chris, stop!” Hopper’s voice is alarmed.

I cross the patch of grass, stopping at the cliff’s edge. Down below, waves crash against rocks. Thunderous. Violent. Primal.

There was a time, when I was a kid, after Dad and the hospital, where I was supposed to just fall back into regular life as if the world was still turning.

It was then I thought about stepping off the edges of places like this.

It didn’t last. Not even when things got bad.

Not even when no family wanted me until I found my own with Mac and Annie. And I don’t anymore.

But there’s a familiarity in it. A kind of foolhardy prickle of life as I lean over the edge.

Then Hopper’s next to me, pulling me back. “Chris, what the fuck?”

He holds me in his arms. His trembling arms. I scared him. I look up with a catch of breath in my throat. I have to tilt my face way, way up to look at him.

“I’m sorry.” I have to speak louder than my normal voice to be heard over the roar of the ocean and wind. “I’m okay.” I laugh, a little wetly, with tears in my eyes. “I’m just happy to be alive right now.”

And I am. I really am.

“Did I go too fast?” Hopper asks. I have to laugh, because he thinks I’m panicking about that bike ride.

I shake my head. “It’s not about that. You were perfect.” You are perfect .

It’s then I notice the sensation of his thick arms around me. The heat and scent of him. I can feel the beat of his heart against my palms where they spread over his chest, his jacket open, me inside.

Oh my God. My heart clenches, my whole body electric .

I step away, willing the feelings for Hopper to diminish. Because they have to. “It’s just been a while since I’ve been on a bike,” I try to explain. “It makes me feel alive. You know?”

Hopper studies me a moment and finally sighs. “I know.” He drops onto the grass and runs his hands over his face. “Did you have to act that out on a clifftop, though? You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” I whisper.

After a moment, Hopper reaches a hand up. “I need you down here.”

I take his hand, trying to ignore the skittering burst of sparks that shoots through my arm. The way I need you feels.

He tugs me down.

I think we’re settled, but once I’m sitting next to him, he shifts forward so his legs dangle over the edge of the cliff.

Now it’s my turn to be scared. “Hopper!”

“Cute, bangles. Pretending you’re worried about what happens to me.”

“I am!” I sit, but stay away from the edge. “If anything happens to you, I’ll be out of a job.”

He chuckles.

I should stay back here, a safe distance away from him. But I don’t. My body joins him all on its own. I watch like it’s not me sliding my legs over the edge next to him.

“That’s far enough!” Hopper reaches a hand out, gently pressing it against my stomach .

I quickly grab his hand. An instinct to keep that part hidden.

It’s only when Hopper looks down that I realize I haven’t let go of his hand. My heart leaps into my throat. “Sorry.” I pull my hand away.

But Hopper takes it back, lacing his fingers through mine. His hand is huge. Warm. Surprisingly calloused for someone who plays pretend for a living.

“I need to make sure you’re safe,” he explains.

Oh how I wish he didn’t just mean from the edge of this cliff.

I close my eyes.

“You sure you’re okay, Chris?”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Just a little embarrassed,” I admit.

“It was the Duke stuff before, wasn’t it?”

I open my eyes to glare at him. “A lot of women like the Duke.”

“But he’s special to you.”

“It’s not like I was obsessed with you , Hopper.” I think that’s true. Mostly. Maybe a little not.

He lets out a laugh. “Oh I know. You’ve made that clear. But I read the books. I got the fan mail. It’s not me—it’s him. The Duke has helped a lot of people out. There’s something about him that feels comforting, I think. He’s silly and sexy and…effusive. He loves with his whole heart.”

My chest feels like it’s stuck in a garbage compactor. “Yup,” I eke out. “That’s exactly it.”

“Plus he’s not satisfied until his lady’s had her pleasure. A dozen times over.”

I choke with laughter. That part’s true. In the books, anyway. I look over at Hopper. His grin just about undoes me. Why do I feel like Hopper would be the same way?

“It’s why I’m going to be doing the sequel,” he says, eyes on mine.

I can’t help it—I squeal. “What? There’s going to be a sequel? I thought they said it would ‘firmly be a stand-alone!’”

He looks almost boyishly happy to have made me happy. “Well, they’re firmly wrong.”

“Why didn’t I see any correspondence about it? Tru never mentioned it at all.”

“Because I just decided on it right now.”

I frown. “What? Wait, did you already turn down the role or something?”

Hopper looks down, almost awkwardly, studying our joined hands. Funny he’s staring at them while I can’t look.

He clears his throat. “I told them never in a million fucking years would I play that part again. I think that’s verbatim. That’s why they called it a firm stand-alone.”

“Hopper! Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

To my horror, my eyes fill with tears. That’s more than once tonight. What is wrong with me? I let go of Hopper’s hand to swipe at my cheeks, looking away.

“Chris?”

“I’m fine.” But my cracked voice betrays me.

“Are you?” Hopper, bless him, doesn’t take my hand again. I don’t think I could take it .

He’s quiet, waiting for me to answer.

I consider saying something to hide myself. Hiding is what I’m good at. But we’re past that, aren’t we? I am, anyway. Besides, I asked him to be straight with me—the least I can be is straight with him.

“Did I tell you I was in the system? I don’t think I did.

But maybe you know.” I know I’m rambling.

But now that I’ve started, I can’t stop.

“After my dad died, I didn’t have anywhere to go.

My experience wasn’t the worst. I’ve heard the horror stories.

I could have been the horror stories. But I still was hit, neglected, hit on …

” I swallow hard, remembering that one dad who came home drunk and told me he knew a way I could make some spending money.

I shake the memory away.

“When I was sixteen, I stayed for a month with this really elderly woman. Linda. I loved her. And she loved to read. Her house was filled with books. I found a Duke book there. That was the first night I disappeared into a world that wasn’t filled with pain and ugliness.

I’d read books before, but not like that.

It was just silliness and romance and…honesty.

I kept that book. She let me have it. I still have it.

And somehow…” I put a hand over my eyes as if that will somehow make this easier.

“Somehow, all those years later, you captured everything the Duke was. You didn’t make fun of him or act like you were better than those stories. You were him.”

Hopper doesn’t say anything. But he also hasn’t made his excuses and suggested we leave. So I keep going. “Earlier this year, I was in an accident. And, well…there you were in the movie. At a time when I really needed you. ”

I drop my hand, but still, I don’t dare to look at his face. “This is mortifying, you know. I bet you’ve never confessed to your jerk boss that he inadvertently saved your life.” My voice cracks on life.

When I finally sneak a look at Hopper, he’s staring at me.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “That was way too much information.”

Hopper shakes his head. “No. I’m just kind of”—he clears his throat—“humbled, I guess. I always think I had a shit childhood, but then I see how much worse it could have been. I’m sorry you went through that, Chris.”

I smile, relieved he doesn’t seem to care that I basically fangirled all over him. I guess he’s used to that. “Mine wasn’t all bad,” I say. “I have lots of happy memories from before.”

Lots of unhappy ones, too, but none of that matters now.

“I’m glad,” Hopper says, his voice kind of gruff.

A beat passes. He turns away, but his side is pressed up against me. Like he wants to keep contact. “Were you hurt?”

At my frown, he says, “In the accident.”

“Oh. That. I’m fine. I have this wonky shoulder that sometimes hurts still, and I…

” I still can’t ride. “But I’m fine. Anyway,” I say brightly, leaning back on my hands, ignoring the little twinge from my shoulder that seems to pop up just because I mentioned it.

“You don’t have to play him again, Hop. You’d make a lot of people happy if you did, but this is your career.

You should do what makes you happy. I said that before. ”

“I don’t care about making other people happy, Chris.” His voice sounds thick.

I laugh. “Yes you do.”

“No. I’m going to do this movie because it’ll make you happy.”

For a moment, time seems to stand still. He’s joking. That’s it. Why else would he be saying that? “That’s no reason to do a whole movie,” I laugh.

But Hopper’s not laughing. Mine dies out too as Hopper’s eyes graze over my face. From my hair whipping around my head, to the flush rising in my cheeks, to my slightly parted lips.

“I can’t think of any better reason,” Hopper says, his voice hoarse.