Page 12 of Tides Of Your Love (Riviera Shores #3)
Owen
THE KNOCK ON THE FRONT door was brisk, familiar.
“Well, look who’s gracing us with his presence,” Simon said as soon as I opened it for him.
I smirked and clasped his hand, pulling him in for a half-hug. “I’ve been gracing it here for a while. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”
Simon scoffed, his gaze flicked over me, assessing, like he was trying to measure the difference three years and an injury have made. “You look ... American.”
“Yeah? You look married.” I tilted my chin toward the soft belly he was sporting.
He grinned as we walked into the living room. “Hazard of falling for a woman who loves to cook.” His eyes swept the room. “Where’s Walter?”
“Out back, grumbling at the weeds.”
“And Rio?”
I didn’t glance toward the kitchen where I could hear faint movement, the sound of a tap running. “Somewhere.”
Simon seemed satisfied with that answer and dropped onto the couch. “So, how’s it going with that knee? ”
I rolled my shoulders. “Not too bad.”
“Right.” He leaned forward, forearms on his knees.
I could never bullshit him. Except for one thing. But she asked me not to tell.
“So, when do you go back?” Simon asked.
I exhaled. “Depends. My contract’s still theirs, so no matter what, at some point, I’ll go in for check-ups and a final decision.”
“Not to be an arse,” Simon used the British version, “but even with physiotherapy and all, you should start thinking about a future that’s coming anyway—cause we’re not getting any younger.”
My fingers flexed against my knee, but I kept my expression smooth. “Fuck you very much, Sir. Would you like some tea?” I said in a British accent.
Simon grinned. He knew me well enough to know when to stop pushing. “How’s Walter taking it? Grumpy as ever?”
I let out a short laugh. “He’s got new material now. The state of the country, the uselessness of the medical profession, how technology ruins everything.”
Simon chuckled. “He’s a gem.” He leaned back, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Feels weird seeing you here, mate. But good weird.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, remembering what it felt like to hold his sister in my arms last night. “Good weird.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rio step into the room, holding a glass of water. Her gaze darted between us before she took a slow sip.
Simon barely noticed.
I did. But then, I wasn’t supposed to .
“Even weirder with Rio here,” Simon said.
You have no idea, mate. Between you and me and her—I can fuck up more than one friendship here.
“I was pretty much living in GMT time so I hardly saw them,” I hurried to say. “That’s why I’m taking them to dinner tonight. Wanna come with?”
“Can’t today, but expect a dinner invitation from Nicole soon.”
Looking over at Rio, Simon called, “Hey, Ri. What up? Hope you don’t give this one a hard time.” Looking at me, he added, “On second thought, Wheaton, you can take it.”
I forced on a smile.
Rio took a long sip.
“Any chance you can babysit on the twenty-second?” Simon addressed her.
“Twenty-second? Sure.”
“Hey, you should come, too.” He turned to look at me. “Chloe’s been asking about her famous uncle Owen from England who sends her the best gifts for Christmas and birthdays. Even Emma knows your name.”
My gaze crossed paths with that of Rio’s.
“Then I have to be there.” Tearing my gaze from her, I turned to look at Simon again. “So that’s instead of that dinner you said Nicole has in mind?” I had to act as if no undercurrents flowed between me and his sister right under his nose.
“You’re not getting off the hook that easy.” Simon laughed and patted my shoulder.
FRESH FROM A SHOWER , I pulled on a pair of slim black chinos and a fitted dark gray button-down shirt, leaving the collar open. Rugged black boots completed the look. A quick glance in the mirror—I cuffed my sleeves, ruffled my hair, and called it good.
Fifteen minutes before eight, I stepped out of my suite just as Rio emerged from hers.
My breath hitched.
In a simple, little black dress that hugged all her curves, a pair of pumps, her hair down, two hooped earrings shining through, and a little makeup, she wasn’t just beautiful—she was a punch to the gut.
Rio had always been the epitome of your best friend’s younger sister—sweet, familiar, harmless. But I had firsthand knowledge of the fire beneath the softness, the way her body felt and moved under these clothes, how sweet, untouchable Rio unraveled in my hands.
But that was a long time ago, and I wasn’t supposed to remember.
“Right on time.” She waved her phone as if pointing to the hour on the locked screen.
“You look great,” I said. Shut the fuck up, this is not a date.
“Looking pretty smart yourself.” Her lips curved and her smile threatened to melt my resolution.
“Thanks.” With stylists fighting to dress me, my image had taken me places until it felt like second nature. But with Rio watching me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was wearing it rather than living it.
A lyric from a buried memory surfaced: I just want you to know who I am.
At the top of the stairs, I placed a hand on the small of her back. “After you.”
Turn off the flirting. Whatever this is.
This is Rio. Simon’s sister. And you’re not going there.
You fucking can’t. But as she moved ahead, her soft brown hair brushing her shoulder blades, I couldn’t focus on anything else.
My palms buzzed with a need to touch that bare skin at the edge of her dress.
Downstairs, Walter shuffled out of his room, clad in an old blue cardigan and plaid shirt over equally worn trousers.
“Walter, why aren’t you dressed?” Rio asked.
He waved us off. “You two go ahead.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t make it tonight. But you go on.”
“Why not?” I asked. What have I done this time?
“I made a date to play a game.”
“A what now?” Rio blurted. Then, quickly: “What date? With who?”
“Clarice, from the club. Thinks she can beat me at Scrabble. No one beats me at Scrabble.”
“Except me, sometimes,” Rio teased.
“You have beginner’s luck, is all,” Walter muttered.
“Can’t you reschedule?”
Walter shrugged. “She invited herself. I told her I’d bring my board on Monday, but she called to say her grandson is heading this way and he’ll drop her.” Walter shrugged again.
“She likes you,” Rio singsonged .
Walter scoffed. “Shame on you! At my age?”
“What, you can’t like anyone at your age?” I chimed in.
Walter pretty much eye-rolled. “We’re playing a game, and she’s going to get her tush whooped.”
“She might like it.” I laughed, but Walter pinned me with a stare. “Suit yourself, Grandpa.” I turned to Rio, hyperaware of her shoulder brushing against mine. “Do you still wanna go?”
She hesitated. “We can.”
“Let’s give them some privacy.” I grinned at her, and when she smiled back, something unspoken passed between us—an awareness, maybe, of how easy it was to call someone else out loud while keeping our own truths buried.
What the fuck am I doing?
“I don’t need privacy, don’t talk nonsense,” Walter grumbled. “Go, I already ate.” He patted his belly—the soft roundness over his spindly legs.
Rio sighed. “Fine. But I can leave some snacks for you and your guest .”
“I’m not in kindergarten, I can handle it myself. Besides, I don’t want her getting too comfortable. Now go.”
“We’re going, we’re going,” Rio muttered as we turned for the door.
“Have fun, Grandpa. Maybe let her win.”
“And something to eat,” Rio added.
“Bye already!” Walter called out before slamming his door.
Rio and I laughed as we stepped outside.
“Is this the first time he’s had a lady visitor or visitors in general?” I asked .
“He’s had friends over, but they mostly socialize at the seniors’ club or swimming. That’s why I make sure he keeps going.”
“I hope Clarice is the one.” I laughed and opened the door of the Range Rover.
“Don’t you want to try mine again?” Rio dangled her key.
“I’m trying to preserve my dignity. And my knees.”
She laughed and slid into the passenger seat.
As I backed out of the driveway, I sneaked a glance at her profile.
Her gaze was fixed ahead, but her soft fruity scent filled the car, wrapping around me like a memory I never let go of.