Page 50 of Tides Of Your Love (Riviera Shores #3)

Owen

SKIN TO SKIN, BODY to body, fire to fire. That was all that existed. All that mattered. All I needed.

Rio Mio, the stability to my chaos, the strength to my weakness, the unconditional love to the scoreboard I was valued by every day. Her love wasn’t based on what I achieved and accumulated or what expectations I fulfilled. She loved me for what was underneath.

She never held back from telling me what she thought of me, but she did it in her Rio Mio way—without making me feel judged at every turn. I didn’t need to laugh or charm or smooth out the rough edges.

With her, I didn’t need constant motion to outrun truths, feelings, voids. I could be still. I could be bare—body, heart, and soul.

She didn’t patch the void. She filled it.

The girl who was named after a song, made my heart sing. A song about a river, written by a British band, sung about a California girl—it felt like it was written for us. She was destined to be carved into my heart, inked onto my skin .

Later that afternoon, when we were getting ready to drive to the hospital, Rio came out of the bathroom with damp hair and bare feet.

“I got something for you,” I said, handing her the small paper bag I’d left in the car.

“Thanks.” She smiled, but when she opened it, her face lit up. “The exact brand,” she said, pulling out the pack of chocolate-covered pretzels. “How did you even remember?”

“That wasn’t a problem. Finding them abroad was. But I had a layover.” I chuckled.

She looked at the bag like it was gold. I couldn’t stop smiling. If this was her reaction to pretzels, I’d have to ease her into what was coming. Because I had every intention of spoiling her rotten.

We drove to the hospital in my rental car, bringing Walter his Scrabble board—to find new victims to destroy, as he put it—along with fresh clothes and snacks.

He looked pleased to see us, but true to form, his second question after how we were was: “When’s the flight to Egoville leave?”

I just smiled.

“What?” he insisted, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that where thousands sing your praises?”

Rio and I exchanged a look. I could only imagine how he’d react if he knew she’d been planning to follow me to England.

I placed my hand over his. “I don’t need thousands. I don’t even need dozens. I just need you two. And maybe Simon,” I added with a smirk.

“You’re not going back? ”

“No.”

“Good!” he said, nodding decisively. “Kick Sir Whatshisname like he kicked you. Besides, the MLS could use you here too. Not just Messi.”

“What about you, Walter?” Rio asked.

“I could use having him around. And seems that you could, too.”

Rio blushed and I gave Walter an acknowledging smile.

“You need help paying their fine?” he asked.

I laughed. “No, Grandpa.” As an IRS auditor, he’d probably lose sleep if he knew how much I made per season.

“Good. Because I can’t help you.”

“Walter!” Rio laughed, squeezing his hand, probably relieved that the topic changed.

We hadn’t managed more than a few words when someone entered the room. I only noticed because Walter’s posture shifted—he pushed himself upright, eyes widening. I turned to look.

An elderly woman stood at the foot of the bed, holding a bouquet of flowers. “Hello, Walter. Glad to see you’re still alive.”

“Not disappointed?” he asked.

Rio and I exchanged a glance, heads swiveling between them.

“I said ‘glad’. Why do you always have to be difficult?” She extended the flowers. “Here. These are for you. I hope you’re not one of those allergic types.” Her tone implied Rio wasn’t the only contender for outcranking Walter.

“I’m not,” he replied. Then, turning to Rio: “Can you take these? ”

“Sure,” Rio said, taking the bouquet. “I’m Rio. And you’re Clarice, right?”

The woman smiled. “Yes. Did Walter mention me?”

“No,” Walter said at the same time Rio replied—louder—“Yes, he did.”

Clarice eyed the Scrabble board on the side table. “I see you brought the board.”

“We’ll go look for a vase,” Rio said quickly, grabbing my hand and tugging me out.

Once outside, she mumbled, “You Wheaton boys are hard nuts to crack.”

I gave her fingers a squeeze, then gently turned her toward me and kissed her. “Takes a strong woman.”

“Clarice seems to have it in her.”

“You can give her a few tips.”

After getting the nurse’s permission, we returned to place the vase on the bedside table. Clarice and Walter stopped talking the moment we stepped in.

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Rio said. “Doctor said they’ll release you if you’re good tonight. So be good.” She shook Clarice’s hand. “Nice meeting you.”

“I’m Owen,” I added, offering my hand. “His grandson.”

“I know. He talks about you all the time,” Clarice said. “Always sending us articles.”

“Does he?” I shot Walter a grin. “Good to know. Now that I’m here full-time, let’s see if he regrets it.”

“I already do,” Walter muttered.

Outside, I opened the car door for Rio.

“European manners,” she said, smiling as she slid in. “I could get used to this. ”

I leaned in and grabbed her waist. “And this?” I whispered against her lips.

Her answer was to cup my face and kiss me deeper.

On the way home, she told me she’d updated everyone about Walter’s recovery. “But I haven’t told anyone about us yet.”

“Then do. Tell your friends. We’ll talk to Simon together—want to drive there now? No point in delaying it.”

“It’s eight. They should be home.”

We looked at each other. I nodded once, then turned the wheel toward the newer neighborhoods of Blueshore.