Page 20 of Tides Of Your Love (Riviera Shores #3)

Owen

THE FORT WAS STILL standing. Barely.

I was planning to dismantle it after a little rest, but since there were no cushions on the sofa, I ended up sitting ... in the fort. I stretched out inside it when I heard Rio coming down the stairs.

“You’re in there ?” Her voice came from outside.

I sat up. “Yeah, I was about to—”

Before I could finish the sentence, she appeared at the entrance, bending to look inside and holding the almost empty snack bowl.

I huffed a chuckle. “So we’re eating leftovers now?” I reached out and took it from her. “Any lemonade left to go with it?”

“I’ll check.” She straightened up and disappeared, only to reappear with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“I, uh ... no lemonade but I saw it in the kitchen earlier. It was open already, and I figured—why let it go to waste?” She exhaled a small laugh.

Relax, Rio. I wouldn’t suspect you of trying to seduce me with half a bottle of leftover red.

“Are we drinking on the job?” I asked, smirking as I took the bottle and glasses from her and shifted to make space for her.

“Half a glass. We’re responsible adults.” She sank onto the cushions beside me as I poured.

“Babysitting deserves a reward.” I handed her a glass. “To surviving babysitting?”

She clinked her glass to mine. “To surviving babysitting.”

We took a sip, the wine warming my chest.

I told her Emma had nearly crushed my ribs with her goodbye hug.

“She’s selective with her affection,” Rio said. “You should feel honored.”

I put a hand over my heart. “Deeply.”

She shifted, crossing one leg over the other, and her thigh brushed against mine.

She picked up a broken piece of snack.

“You’re actually eating it?”

“We can’t let it go to waste. Besides, I didn’t paw it earlier. Not like you,” she teased and munched it loudly on purpose, as if making a point.

“That was very uncustomary for me.”

“Let me guess.” She smirked. “You’re the type who eats only crumpets with tea.” She raised her pinkie and mimicked a British accent on the last three words.

“Not even if the queen herself asked me to.”

Rio laughed. I loved the melodic sound of it, it warmed up my heart and the space between us. “So, what’s your guilty pleasure, then?” she asked.

This .

“No protein anything,” I ended up saying. “But shhh, don’t tell. What’s yours?”

“Chocolate-covered pretzels. But they have to be the right kind.”

“There’s a wrong kind?” I asked.

“Of course.” She gave me a look, like I’d just insulted her entire existence.

We were quiet and I was well aware of the last time we sat closed up alone together and how it had ended. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to break this moment.

Rio’s mind probably went down the same path, because she leaned back against a cushion, away from me as the crammed place allowed. “Simon and Nicole will be a while. Alright, let’s see ... what’s the last book that made you cry?”

“Are we playing Five Questions now?” I couldn’t help asking.

“No. We can go for I-Spy but I think Emma had us covered.” She was keen on not going there, and I knew I should avoid that too.

I thought for a moment. “Okay, so probably the sports section of The Times.”

Rio chuckled. “Never read that one. Is it any good?”

“Highly recommended. What about you?”

She made a thoughtful noise. “Math for twelfth grade . ”

I burst out laughing, full and unrestrained. Simon and Nicole could take their precious time, I didn’t want this evening to end.

The humor ebbed into a quieter moment, and I found myself watching her, tracing the way her warm walnut brown hair cascaded just below her shoulders, the delicate glint of the thin gold necklace resting on her collarbone, and how her black top, loose yet somehow clinging in the right places, dipped slightly as she reached for her glass, revealing her clavicle and the soft curve beneath it.

She caught me looking and angled her head to look back at me. “What?”

“Nothing.” I stretched out my legs. “This fort will make me look bad in physiotherapy tomorrow.”

“How’s that going?”

“Hard. Injuries fuck with your mind, too. You start wondering—what if I don’t come back from this?”

“Do you wonder?”

I hesitated. It was something I didn’t fully admit, not even to myself. “Yes.”

“I think you will. Because you’re stubborn.”

“I call it determined.”

“Mm-hmm.” She took a sip of wine, the corners of her lips tugging up. She looked unconvinced. “And what if you don’t come back from this?”

I let out a slow breath. “Then I have to figure out who I am without it.”

A beat.

“I’ve spent so long chasing the next thing—trying not to let anyone down. My parents, Simon, the fans, management ...” You.

“And Walter,” she said.

A soft chuckle left me. “And Walter.” My smile faded. “I think he’s disappointed in me.”

“He’s proud of you,” she said quietly. “We all are. And it won’t change even if you don’t play ever again. ”

The words sank in deeper than I expected.

“You too, Wio?” I teased, my voice low now.

Her lips parted, the tiniest hitch in her breath. “Of course.”

The warmth in my chest melted into a soft, unexpected relief—cotton wool wrapping a wound. I wasn’t used to being valued and wanted for myself. Because most people loved and appreciated the footballer, the fame, the money, the proximity to it all. Even my own mother.

Rio exhaled. “Can I ask you something?”

If it’s to take your virginity again, I’ll do it! “Sure.”

She hesitated. “You once told me that you couldn’t fail. And you never really have.”

I ran a hand over my jaw, feeling the weight of the words I rarely said out loud.

“I love winning. But for my parents, winning was how you mattered. They always drilled it into me. My dad failed at business—more than once, in more than one country. My mom never let him forget it. Now she lives off my money in Spain, and he fucked off to Florida, only ever calling to ask me to ‘invest’ in his business.”

Her expression softened, but she didn’t rush to fill the silence.

“Failure ...” I exhaled. “I know it’s part of life. I just ... need it to mean something. To push me to do better next time. I can handle it when it fuels the next win, otherwise, I feel like I’m letting people down, and I can’t forgive myself for that.”

She was quiet for a long moment, then her voice came softly. “So what must you think of me? ”

My brows drew together. “What?” Yeah, what, except that I can’t stop thinking about you lately—your smile, your eyes, your voice. I’d never felt this close to anyone before. And the way my heart was pounding now? I’d never felt like that for anyone.

My heart nearly split in two at the sudden realization.

“I’m not even good at speaking, Owen.” She swallowed. “Every sentence feels like a fight. You must think—”

My chest tightened, ached. I shifted closer, locking eyes with her.

“I think you’re a rare force to be reckoned with, Rio.

” My voice dropped, steady, certain. “I think that you’re the most courageous person I know.

Courage isn’t being fearless, it’s pushing through despite the fear. You’re winning with every word.”

She blinked at me, something unreadable crossing her face. The dim glow from the nearby lamp made her eyes look darker, deeper—like pools of ink, hard to read but impossible to look away from.

She was so close. Her scent—soft and warm, like vanilla and cinnamon—flooded me, and I knew I should look away. That I should back up from this.

Inside the fort, it was almost easy to forget everything else. She wasn’t Simon’s sister. She wasn’t off-limits. She was just Rio. My Rio—at least in this moment.

Then she shifted, her thigh brushing against mine again, and suddenly, the fight I’d been waging with myself felt utterly useless.

I was going to lose the fight. Or win it. In the fog I was in—I wasn’t sure anymore .

One second, we were staring at each other, eyes locked, breaths intermixing, and the next, like a dam breaking, I was pulling her to me, tilting her face up toward mine, and crashing my lips against hers.

She didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned further in, the smallest exhale slipping past her lips into mine, sending a ripple of blood through my body straight to my cock.

I held her tight, weaving my fingers into her hair, fusing her to me.

She tasted both new and familiar, a contradiction that made me red-hot with need for more.

I angled closer, my chest ramming against hers, my arms wrapping around her waist and back, pulling her flush against me, on me, so I could feel all of her. So she could feel all of me.

She kissed me hungrily. Her hands trekked my arms, chest, shoulders. There was no hesitation. No should we , no could we . She kissed me like she already knew the answer.

A car door slammed shut just outside. Heels clicked on the path.

We jerked apart like guilty teenagers, hearts pounding, breathlessly staring at each other.

Her hair was tousled, her lips swollen from the force of our kiss.

“Shit,” I whispered.

“Cushions—” she hissed, already scrambling off me.

I followed, but right before she ducked out of the fort, she turned back.

We faced each other, breaths mingling, our mouths nearly brushing again.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then she stepped away, and the spell broke .

We worked in frantic silence, tossing cushions back onto the sofa, straightening things just as Simon and Nicole stepped inside.

I ran a hand through my hair, keeping my expression neutral, but Simon’s gaze flicked between Rio and me, his brows knitting together.

Or maybe I was just imagining it.

Maybe.

But I could still taste Rio on my lips.