Page 4 of Tides Of Your Love (Riviera Shores #3)

Owen

“IT’S YOUR HOUSE. YOU don’t have to ring the doorbell,” said the woman whose amber eyes—now framed by delicate lines and not just soft bangs—could still reach deep inside me.

All I could do was give her a stupid, small lopsided grin that half-hid the grimace caused by my throbbing knee.

“Hey,” I managed to say eventually.

A familiar, beloved, and slightly annoyed face appeared next to Rio. “It’s just you? No extras?” my grandfather asked, theatrically sticking his head out and looking from side to side.

In his dark brown pants that surrounded his Santa Claus figure and a buttoned-up shirt and cardigan, my grandfather was now a head shorter than Rio. Three years had shrunk him further.

“Disappointed?” My sardonic smile completed my tone. “Good to see you too, Grandpa.” Knowing that he wasn’t a hugger, I reached out my hand to shake his.

Walter shook my hand, and with a teenagery shrug and frown mumbled, “Well, come in. Don’t stand in the doorway. You’re letting the air conditioning out.” He then shuffled back inside.

“Hey, Rio.” I finally focused my eyes on her.

She stood silently with a little smile on her face.

“He’s a little cranky these days. It’s not you.” She got a little stuck on the C. It landed in my chest as a warm memory, as if I crossed the threshold of home.

I scoffed. “He’s mad that it’s been a while. Right for being so.”

Rio seemed to hesitate, but then, as if to make up for my grandfather’s welcome, she stepped forward, stood on tiptoes, and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Welcome back home, Owen,” she said against my neck.

Surprised, I left the handle of my suitcase and wrapped my arms around her.

I inhaled. Rio still smelled like strawberries though she didn’t seem to be wearing that godawful lip gloss she used to when we were kids.

She released her hold and stepped back. “We’re still at the threshold.” She chuckled. “I prepared the suite for you. The cleaning service actually did. I’m sorry I haven’t found a place yet. I’m looking.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you’re here and that he has you.

With his mood, I’m happy you’re buffering.

Please don’t move out on my account.” I limped inside, dragging my luggage behind me.

I wanted to add that I might not stay for long or that she probably didn’t plan on living with two invalids instead of one, but I said nothing.

Rio gave out a little gasp. “Are you in pain?” She reached for the suitcase handle. “I’ll take that. You didn’t seem to limp when I saw you on the ...” Her face turned crimson. “ We saw you on the news,” she quickly added. “He watches BBC Sport just for news on you.”

The spacious living room, with its calming colors and the vast yard reflected in the large French doors, reminded me why I bought this house. It was meant to be a haven I'd use once a year during visits, but life got too hectic, and I’d only used it twice since.

Walter moving in had turned this place into a home. I never expected Rio to live here, but when Simon mentioned she was looking for a place, I offered the house rent-free if she could keep an eye on Walter. It was a win-win.

Back then, they didn’t know each other, but when I called to ask how the introduction went, he feigned indifference. “She’s okay. She can play Scrabble so I wouldn’t mind if she wanted to live here.”

“You challenged her to a game?” Scrabble-obsessed Walter was always on the lookout for worthy opponents. He could terminate a friendship over Scrabble-related arguments.

“I was just organizing my kit when she showed up,” he lied.

“She beat you,” I guessed.

“Beginner’s luck,” he muttered.

“She equinoxed you?” I laughed, referencing a word he boasted beating others with.

Now Walter stood by the sofa and motioned his hand at the house.

“Rio and I are keeping the house in good condition for you.” He obviously misinterpreted the way I skimmed the room.

“If you want me to move out, all you have to do is say so. There’s room at the Sandy Hills senior home in Riviera View. Rio’s friend, January, works there.”

“Don’t be silly, Grandpa. I don’t want you to move out.”

“Oh, now I’m silly.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to climb the stairs with that knee?” Rio jumped in before I could reply. She was already buffering.

“Positive.”

“You see? You need the downstairs suite. I’ll move out,” Walter said. He might have tried to sound unconcerned, but I could hear the challenge in his tone. He was like an eighty-year-old kid, testing the boundaries and looking for reassurance.

Rio glimpsed at me, trying to suppress a smile, probably detecting the same thing.

“I’ll be fine upstairs. No one’s moving out,” I said.

“It’s not like you’ll stay long,” Walter mumbled.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come more often. I’m sorry. But I plan on staying a while this time.”

“You don’t call very often, too. Texts. Some invention! Texts, so that people can decide not to call other people,” Walter harrumphed.

My head began to throb as much as my knee, but I suppressed a sigh when I spoke. “I’m sorry. Just with the time difference ... I know you were worried when I was injured, but you shouldn’t be. Injuries are part of my job. I’ve had them all—torn ligaments, torn meniscus, reconstruction surgeries. ”

Rio passed by me on the way to the stairs. “He’s just cranky because he’s tired. He’s usually in bed by nine-thirty,” she whispered.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Grandpa.” I patted his shoulder as I passed, debating whether to offer a hug. I would, if he were the type to welcome one.

“You’re getting on well with him,” I said when I reached Rio at the bottom of the stairs.

“Because I can out-crank him,” she whispered with a grin. I loved the way her eyes always participated in her smiles.

I laughed—really laughed—for the first time in weeks. “And out-Scrabble him.”

Taking the suitcase handle from her, I hoisted it onto my shoulder, steadying it with one hand while grabbing the banister with the other.

Upstairs, my suite door stood open. Across the hall, Rio’s was closed—I knew it was hers by the vase of fresh flowers on the side table by the entrance, a twin to the one outside mine.

I shut my door behind me and sat on the bed, rubbing my knee over the padded brace.

A large bowl of fresh fruit sat on the dresser across from me, along with what looked like protein bars. My stomach grumbled as I walked over. A handwritten note peeked out from beneath the bowl.

Welcome home! Hope you’ll like these. They’re popular with athletes at the shop.

I smiled and unwrapped one that promised strawberries in the mix .

Stepping out onto the balcony, I let the ocean air wash over me. I’d been here last for Simon’s daughter’s christening. My girlfriend at the time had insisted on coming.

When Walter heard her name, he looked at me like I’d grown two heads. “Bambi?” he repeated.

For the three nights we stayed, he kept addressing her as ‘Owen’s girlfriend.’

“Is there a point in me memorizing her name?” he asked. “At my age, it’s hard to learn new things, and she’ll be history by next month, right?”

I couldn’t argue with that.

“Besides, she can’t spell,” he added on our last morning there, dealing the final blow. “And she calls herself English. Shakespeare is rolling in his grave.” Then, with a flick of his hand, he turned off his hearing aid. Conversation over.

Not that there had been much of one. He was right. I had become a cliché—just another footballer with a model on his arm.

Back in England, I had become the version of myself I’d spent years crafting.

Owen ‘Wonder’ Wheaton, the name, the image, the life—I built it all and wore it like a second skin.

But in Blueshore, seeing myself through the eyes of my family and old friends, I saw a walking, breathing stereotype, playing a role I hadn’t realized I’d cast myself in.

So I did my best to close my eyes to that.

I took another bite of the bar, strawberry mingling with the salt in the air. I thought about the softness in Rio’s eyes tonight—forgiveness and understanding shined there. Maybe I just hoped it was. With Walter pulling no punches, I needed that softness .

I knew that people weren’t always what they seemed. I’d learned that about Rio the night before her brother’s wedding, when she walked into my room at her parents’ house.

That night, the small flowery ‘infinity’ tattoo on her hip told me that Simon’s little sister wasn’t so little anymore. And though she was off-limits, what she asked of me was like depositing a sledgehammer into my hands and saying, ‘Go on, break through any limit.’