Page 15 of Shades of You (Calypso Key #4)

Chapter Fifteen

Brenna

The morning was tropically glorious, with the sun’s rays prying into every crevice of Big Pine Key as Hunter and I laid out our scuba gear on a worn, wooden picnic table. As expected, the strip of sand was deserted. This dive spot was a well-kept local secret, one that Eli had shown me a few years ago. And now I was here with Hunter.

“Don’t forget to check your inflator hose,” Hunter said, his voice steady and calm.

I glanced at him as he meticulously reviewed each piece of equipment. His motions were practiced and deliberate, those of a man who had performed this action hundreds—thousands?—of times. The fact that Siesta Sunset’s dive equipment was unfamiliar didn’t faze him in the slightest. His long-sleeved rash guard clung to him like a second skin, emphasizing every ripple and ridge of his upper body. Black, of course, and it suited him, the color of mystery and things hidden. Black-and-gray board shorts highlighted muscular thighs, gray being the only nod to color he seemed willing to make.

But his attire brought one rather important fact to light as I tugged my wetsuit on. “I’m sorry. I grabbed the biggest wetsuit we had in our rental pool. You’re a big guy, Hunter Markham.”

He tossed me a smile that sent a flutter through me. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine without one. I’ve dived in much colder water than this.” And there it was again. The gulf of experience that separated the Hunter I’d once been friends with from this… mountain of a man.

Without being obvious, I drank in the sight of him. Friend zone or not, desire unfurled in my belly in a long, hot wave. My body remembered the heat of his kiss, the way he’d pressed against me, unmistakably aroused. The size of him! The memory sent a shiver dancing down my spine, which I tried to deny. We’d settled into an amicable rapport, the last vestiges of that awkward tension in the past now. And I had to be okay with that.

“Here, let me help you.” His voice snapped me back to reality. Fully geared up himself, Hunter lifted my tank and held out the shoulder straps of the buoyancy compensation device for me to shrug into. His fingers brushed mine, a fleeting touch that set off a cascade of sparks I pretended I didn’t notice.

“Thanks.” I clipped shut the buckles of my BCD with an ease born of practice. My injured arm was more of a memory than a hindrance at this point. Hunter’s hand found the tank valve behind me, steadying me as we waded into the warm embrace of the ocean together. The water lapped at us, whispering promises of the world beneath the waves.

After donning our fins and masks, we placed our regulators in and started our descent. The weight of the world slipped away, the serene bliss of the underwater realm replacing it. Our exhales came in rhythmic bubbles, a soft accompaniment to the pops and crackles emanating from the living ocean. As we moved deeper, following the sand’s gentle trajectory, I couldn’t shake the awareness of Hunter’s presence beside me. How it was a mixture of the old and familiar with the new and the thrilling.

As we began our exploration, the wondrous delight of diving rekindled within me. There was something about being surrounded by the blue infinity, with only Hunter by my side, that made me feel both inconsequential and incredibly alive.

Our fins propelled us over the reef, an unspoken communication guiding our movements. I caught Hunter’s eye and smiled behind my regulator. For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed since those carefree high school dives. But so much had—especially him, his life skewered and seared by circumstance.

He let me lead, staying next to me but a few inches behind in an acknowledgment of my familiarity of the site. The thought made me smile. Hunter might be a giant of a man, but he didn’t mind letting a woman be in charge.

Another thought that sent my core clenching.

We were drifting past a high coral ridge, its carpet of multicolored sea fans waving gently in the surge, when a green sea turtle emerged from an elkhorn coral cluster. Its flippers moved with a gentle, unhurried grace that belied the strength within them. The creature stared as if acknowledging us as part of its world, then proceeded to swim alongside us in quiet companionship.

Its serene, almost lazy movements mesmerized me, the way it looked at us with ancient, knowing eyes. A school of yellowtail snappers darted past, their silver bodies glinting like coins tossed into a wishing well. They parted gently around the turtle and us, reforming behind our little trio. And when we encountered the regal glide of a queen angelfish, its vibrant blues and yellows stark against the colors of the reef, Hunter and I stopped to watch its graceful movements.

Memories flooded back—of us as teenagers, wide-eyed and awestruck, exploring every reef we could reach. Back then, he was just Hunter, my dive buddy and bookish friend, the one who could make me laugh even underwater.

I glanced at him, wondering if he too remembered those carefree days, or if the weight of his struggles had sunk those memories deep. His gaze met mine through the clear lenses of our masks, and a flicker of something unspoken passed between us. Even amidst the soft ballet of sea creatures, Hunter’s presence was a pull more compelling than the strongest current.

I considered myself a pretty good diver, years of experience making my movements fluid and effortless. Hunter had always been naturally talented at it, but the difference between then and now was obvious. The boy swimming in joyous discovery held little resemblance to the man who had completed deadly missions underwater. He was fluid and utterly graceful, with no unnecessary movement. And he used only slightly more air than I did, which was astonishing given the differences in our sizes.

But too soon, our tanks were light and nearly empty, and it was time to complete our safety stop. As we ascended, I felt the loss acutely. Above us, reality waited—territory far more uncharted than any dive. But down here, with the echoes of a simpler past and the beauty of the present surrounding us, life was so much simpler. In this otherworldly realm, I allowed myself to believe in the possibility of redemption. For the bad boy who’d captured my heart without even trying. And maybe even for us, for whatever we might be together.

The salt on my lips tasted like victory as we emerged onto the warm sand. We both used the freshwater shower near the parking lot to rinse off the saltwater, then toweled off. After wringing out my hair, I pulled on my shirt and board shorts over my bikini. When I looked over at Hunter, he had already exchanged his wet rash guard for a dry black shirt. I couldn’t deny the pang of disappointment that I’d missed my chance to see those muscles and what his tattoos looked like in glorious daylight.

“Almost like old times, huh?” His smile was easy and carefree, and I wanted to see more of it.

“It did!” I laughed, tilting my head to take in his silhouette against the bright sky. “Except you didn’t look like that in high school.” My eyes took in his bulging shoulders, the drape of fabric hinting at the tightly coiled strength beneath.

“Neither did you,” he remarked with a casual air.

I straightened, surprised at his comment. “How am I different now?”

“It’s been over ten years, Brenna.” Then he added, softer, “You’re even prettier now.” The red rising on his cheeks was a revelation as he quickly unscrewed his regulator from the tank.

I tucked away that blush like a secret treasure, letting it warm me from the inside out. A flying fish skimmed across the waves, and when I turned to point it out to Hunter, I found his eyes trailing slowly down my body. Desire flared through me again, my skin tightening. My urge to grab the front of his shirt and pull him down for a hot, wet kiss could barely be contained. He wanted me. I was sure of it. But I was afraid of driving him away again.

When he bent to pack up his gear, his shirt collar shifted to reveal a sliver of inked skin. Curiosity flared within me. Why was he so casual about that spectacular body? “I don’t remember you being so bashful. How come you’ve kept your shirt on the whole time? Most guys with muscles like that would be strutting all over the beach.”

He shifted, and the ghost of a tattoo disappeared, to my disappointment. “Just protecting myself from the sun,” he answered flatly, but his nonchalance didn’t mask his tight voice. Yet another mystery to this man—there was more to this story too. Which only served to remind me that I didn’t want this day to end. Not yet. And spending the morning with him made me realize something else. I didn’t want to be his friend.

I wanted to be so much more.

So I searched about for a topic of conversation. “Speaking of protection, my security system’s been acting up, or my shop is haunted. One of the cameras keeps sending me ghost alerts.”

“The camera angle and width of field probably need adjustment. I can take a look at it for you.”

“That would be great. And how about lunch? I’ve got sandwiches in my apartment.” It was an excuse to keep us together, and I was sure we both knew it.

“Lead the way,” he said, and there was no mistaking the current running between us. As we drove back to my place, anticipation built within me like a storm. I wanted Hunter Markham. All of him. And to hell with the fallout.

Back in my shop, Hunter’s fingers danced across the screen of my phone. “There,” he said as he handed it back to me. “I adjusted the camera and the settings, so you shouldn’t get any more false alerts.”

“Thanks. I’m sure that will take care of it.” I gave him a smile that hopefully masked the butterflies dancing in my stomach. “Diving always makes me starved. Let’s eat.”

I led the way up the staircase to the cozy living space above my bookshop. We settled in at my small dining table where I laid out the deli sandwiches I’d picked up yesterday. Turkey and Swiss on rye for him, ham and sprouts on whole wheat for me, nestled next to a bowl of fresh fruit salad.

My nerves didn’t dissipate as we ate, and I searched for something to discuss. There was so much I didn’t know about him. “So tell me about life in the Marines.”

He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “It was intense,” he said, his voice taking on a distant quality. “I was a Marine Raider, and it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. Lots of training, lots of missions that weren’t… your average active duty.” His shoulders tensed, the lines around his eyes deepening at distant memories. Or maybe not so distant.

“Sounds tough,” I said gently, not wanting to press too hard.

“Yeah. A lot of it was routine training, but other parts were dicey.” He cleared his throat. “What about you and Knox? Were you two serious?”

A laugh escaped me at the absurdity of that thought. “No. We dated for five months, but we didn’t have much in common. Though it took me long enough to realize that. He’s probably the only person on this island who doesn’t like the ocean. And my other relationships in the past all kind of fizzled out.”

He regarded me with hooded eyes. “You’re better off without him, you know.”

“No argument there.” I scooped up a forkful of salad.

As we ate, silence settled around us. The room seemed to shrink, the heat not entirely due to the afternoon sun. I couldn’t help but watch Hunter, the way his throat moved when he swallowed, the neat trim of his dark beard. My heart thrummed as I remembered the feel of that hair brushing against my jaw.

I wiped the corner of my mouth with my napkin. “How’s your sandwich?”

He nodded, swallowing. “Good—thanks for thinking of this.”

As we finished lunch, we discussed my shop, and I couldn’t help feeling that my past sounded boring and uneventful compared to his. When I said so out loud, Hunter just stared at me, wide-eyed.

“Brenna, you’re a huge success and your bookshop is absolutely perfect. You’ve accomplished a lot more than I have in the past decade.”

My chest warmed at his praise, but I shook my head. “Hardly. But I’m glad you’re back.”

My breath stilled as his dark eyes stared straight into me. “So am I.”

As we finished, I tried not to be acutely conscious of every move he made. Then I brought over a slice of cheesecake for us to share for dessert. Leaning over, I forked a bite, enjoying the creamy, sweet texture. It was a sharp contrast to the heat from his gaze that felt like the sun itself.

“You know more about me than I do about you,” I said. “ Have you ever been married? You know, during all that time away?”

His face took on that guarded look as he shook his head. “Not even close.” There was an undercurrent to him now that wasn’t his usual reticence.

“No serious relationships? Have you ever been in love?” I held my breath. It was a bold question, but curiosity was burning through me.

Hunter set down his can of soda, his eyes locking onto mine for a split second before darting away. His jaw clenched, and he ran a hand through his damp hair—a move I’d come to recognize as him grappling with inner turmoil.

“Once,” he admitted, his voice rough like gravel. “But it… didn’t work out.”

My heart skipped, then pounded furiously, unsure whether to rejoice or mourn. A flame of regret shot through me at the thought of some other woman letting go of him. Not returning what he’d offered her.

I cleared my throat, trying to mask the sudden surge of emotions burning through me. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said softly, willing myself to maintain composure. “Love can be… difficult.”

His glance flickered back to me, full of something unreadable, before he quickly looked away again. “Yeah, it can.”

Seeking normalcy, I stood and stacked our plates, my hands moving robotically, while my mind replayed his words. The thought that another woman had touched his heart made something twist inside me—envy, perhaps. Or was it longing?

“Any woman would be lucky to have you, Hunter,” I said as casually as I could manage.

He turned sharply, his piercing gaze searching mine for any hint of sarcasm. His startled look cracked something open within me. How could this glorious man feel so unworthy?

“Thanks,” he muttered, but his voice was low, barely audible.

The emotion inside me solidified. I was jealous of that mysterious woman who had left such an impression on him. I wanted to put my own mark over every inch of him. Claim him as mine. And to hell with patience—I couldn’t bear the distance his quiet words put between us.

So, with a few steps, I bridged it before I could second-guess myself. I leaned down to where he sat, letting my fingers trail over his beard and feeling the heat of his skin beneath. “You’re special to me, Hunter Markham. Don’t forget that.”

He closed his eyes and trapped my wrist with his hand. He held it gently, no aggressiveness in the motion. “Brenna. Stop. You don’t want to do this.”

I moved my arm deliberately, and Hunter immediately loosened his hold. It was the arm Knox had wounded, but I felt none of that as I stood on the precipice. Opening his eyes, Hunter stared up at me. I met his gaze squarely, with intent, and neither of us could look away.

He scooted his chair back and slowly rose to his feet, unfurling himself to his full height. He’d rinsed off at the beach, but a hint of saltwater and pure male wafted from him that made my abdomen clench tight. I reached out and fanned both hands over his chest, stroking the hard, curved muscle underneath.

I said with no hesitation, “Yes, I very much want to do this.”

A low groan vibrated from his throat. Then, with a sudden movement that stole the air from my lungs, he swept me up by the hips. In two large strides, he sat me firmly on the kitchen counter as if I weighed nothing. His gaze burned into me as he stood between my knees. The strength in his arms sent a molten roll through me, sparking an inferno that blazed through every nerve. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing the heat of his body against me. And then his lips were on mine, slanting across mine with an intensity that stole my breath. This kiss was different from our last—less brutal, yet still wild and untamed.

Perfectly right.

My hands moved of their own accord, exploring the landscape of muscle beneath his shirt, tracing the ridges and planes I was dying to explore.

“I want you, Hunter.” I pressed the words against his mouth, my voice thick with desire.

He angled his kiss, teasing his tongue over the roof of my mouth. His chest rose and fell rapidly, matching the rhythm of my own lungs.

“God, Brenna,” he breathed out, his voice strained with the same burning need that coursed through me. He pushed against my open legs, the hard length of him rubbing against me. A groan wrenched from my throat.

Hunter’s eyes were a storm cloud of doubt as his hands braced on the counter on either side of me. “This is a bad idea.” His voice was a gravelly warning that rumbled through my throbbing core. “Every time I get close to someone, it never ends well.”

I reached up, fingers slipping through the dark waves of his hair, anchoring him to me. “I refuse to believe that. The past ends right here. Right now.” Closing my hand, I gripped his short hair. His eyes were wild with desire, glinting dangerously as he pinned me with them .

My heart pounded with abandon. “You’re the match, Hunter. I’m the paper. Burn me. I want you to burn me to cinders.”

For a heartbeat, there was stillness, a held breath in time. Then our mouths met in a clash of lips and teeth, a fervent dance of tongues that spoke of withheld yearnings now set free.

I was completely on fire for him. Every touch, every kiss fanned the flames, and I wanted—no, needed—to be utterly consumed. I could feel him, hard and insistent as he ground against me. I arched into the sensation, desperate for the full length of him. Craving every inch.

“Which way is your bedroom?” Hunter broke our kiss to gasp the question.

Hardly capable of speech, I managed to nod toward the hall. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me in front of him across the living room as my legs tightened around him. Then we were inside my room, where the half open blinds threw shadows across the soft sheets. Setting me down, our gazes locked. And as Hunter drew his finger slowly down the length of my neck, I’d never been so willingly caught in the flames.