Page 9 of Tides Of Your Love (Riviera Shores #3)

Rio

FOR A MOMENT DURING that dinner, I saw Our Owen again.

Stripped of his global superstar image, he cooked, chatted with his grandfather, teased and bantered with me, showed genuine interest in my life—just like he used to.

But that glimpse faded the moment he reminded me how determined he was to get back to his life in England.

I couldn’t blame him. Who would walk away from that? Doing what he loved on the biggest stage in the world, with fame, money, fans, recognition, and models. The world was literally at his feet.

He was Owen, the football icon again—“A born leader, a team anchor, the kind of athlete who leaves a legacy, not just stats,” as one sports columnist dubbed him.

Somehow, as if it were possible to sink any lower, I felt even more embarrassed that he caught me watching that ridiculously hot guy do things to a foam roller and to my lower belly.

Shore Thing , Ruby’s preferred beach bar, buzzed with music, chatter, and the clink of glassware.

The breeze drifted in from the ocean beyond the open balcony.

I spotted Ruby weaving through the crowd, her blonde open curls bouncing with each step, the lights above catching on the gold hoops in her ears.

She wore a fitted black top and tight jeans, effortlessly cool as she strode in, turning heads without a second thought.

My floral dress, though short, felt a little too put-together in comparison.

Sliding onto the stool beside me, she grinned and flagged down the bartender.

“Two cocktails,” she said without glancing at the menu. “Something strong—we’ve got things to discuss.”

“Hey, it’s not fair; it’s not my fault I couldn’t take my eyes off it—I hadn’t had sex in over a year!” I said after telling her about the foam roll video incident.

“Oh, my God, woman!” Ruby looked genuinely shocked. “I knew it was bad, I didn’t know it was that bad!”

“I know, I know.”

“Even when you did, Bradley doesn’t look anything like that guy.

” Ruby laughed and pointed at my screen.

“Ugh, did I ever tell you how much I hated his wannabe preppy look that just came off dorky? And if he had corrected my pronunciation of bruschetta one more time, I swear, he’d have turned into one. ”

“You told me only like a thousand times?” I shifted to sit straight after leaning against her to guard the screen from anyone else’s view.

“And I’m willing to bet all my money, he didn’t have this technique.” Ruby held my wrist and turned the phone toward her, pressing the watch again button, her pupils literally dilating as she watched.

“You know this guy looks a lot like Owen, right?” She brought her gaze back up to me .

“No, he doesn’t!” I snatched my wrist back.

“From what I’ve seen, he does too!” She took a sip from her cocktail.

“He doesn’t, but okay, forget it. Tell me about Sebastian.” Sebastian Sawyer was her longest-tenured friend with benefits.

“We fuck. What’s there to tell?”

I gave her my best really? face, then sighed. “I don’t know how you do it.” I took a sip from my vodka soda with lime.

“I don’t know how you still don’t. Especially now that you have a scorching hot man, a fucking superstar living across the hall from you! You know how many women’s wet dream you’re living? Probably half the women in Europe!”

“Yes, and the women in Europe he wants to go back to. The supermodels of them. Besides, it’s complicated. He’s Simon’s—”

“Best friend, yeah, we heard that already,” Ruby interjected. “That didn’t stop you from sleeping with him back then.”

“That was different!”

“It wasn’t. It should make things easier for you now. Come on, you two already know each other. You saw each other naked, you did things to each other. A lot of things.”

“Yeah.” I couldn’t help but smirk.

“When you see him now, don’t you just feel like—”

“Can I get you anything else?” The bartender appeared at the right time, just when Ruby mimicked a lion clawing and opening its mouth to devour.

“Iced tea, please,” I said .

“What was I saying?” Ruby tried to recall when the coast was clear.

“Oh, yes. What’s wrong with you?” She jokingly slapped my arm.

“You asked about Sebastian? So here goes: Your situation is not that much different than mine. He, too, was my first and we’ve known each other forever.

Yet, here we are fucking each other senseless whenever he’s in town with no strings attached. ”

“You said that the last couple of times you got together you ... felt things.”

“I said that?” Her eyebrows almost reached her hairline.

“Aha.”

“Impossible. I don’t use the F word.” Ruby didn’t do feelings. Ever since she found the swan under the ugly duckling she had been in high school and college—her words, not mine—she was exclusively in casual relationships.

“You did. You said your stomach did a weird flip when he kissed you goodbye.”

“It was just a physiological response to a particularly good kiss. That’s not the same as ‘feeling’ something.”

“It’s gonna bite you in the ass one day.”

“Oh, he already did.” She chuckled. “You want to tell me that when you saw Owen two years after you slept with him, you—?

“He came to my father’s funeral, remember?” I cut into her sentence. “I had too much on my mind to be thinking about that .”

For two years after I’d asked Owen to take my virginity, I thought about what it’d be like to see him again.

No guy in college, try as he might, came anywhere close to making me feel what Owen had with just a kiss.

But then my father passed—didn’t wake up one morning—and everything changed.

Simon, Nicole, and I moved back into my parents’ house to be with my mom, and I dropped out of college not long after.

Owen had arrived for the funeral, and before I could process it, my mom and brother had asked him to be a pallbearer. I’d had too much on my mind to dwell on how he looked in a dark suit or the fact that, across the ocean, he was becoming someone—climbing the league ladder, earning recognition.

Before we left for the cemetery, he placed his hands on my waist and pulled me into a hug. I held on, maybe a second too long, before slowly letting go. He tipped his head down, slid his hand under my chin, and wiped my tears away with his thumb. His eyes were red. “You’re like family to me, Rio.”

“You’re right,” Ruby admitted now, her thumb chafing the stem of her glass. “But what about the times after that? He did come to visit several times, including when both your nieces were born.”

“I only saw him twice when Chloe was born and that was twelve years ago. He’d just been signed to a first-league club in Spain. And when Emma was born ... well, you know.”

“Yeah, Bradley was there.” A disgusted expression appeared on Ruby’s pretty face. “And that model.” She rolled her eyes. “I was there, too.”

She had been. “Um, is he trying to make the rest of us feel bad?” Ruby had asked at the sight of Bambi.

“Oh, wait, she opened her mouth, and I heard her speak. Never mind that,” she had whispered to me at the christening, just as my tactless mom pretty much shouted, “Her accent! She sounds just like a princess!”

Ruby sipped from her cocktail. “The past is in the past. I’m talking about today. I’m not advocating for romance, just sex.” Her face when she said the R word made me laugh. She looked like she accidentally ate an expired dairy product.

“No, no, it’s too complicated all around, even for just sex.” I signaled quotation marks at ‘just’.

“You’re afraid!” Ruby set her glass down with a firm thud.

“Yes!” I shot back, tossing my hands up. Finally .

“Of developing feelings. But he’ll go away anyway, and you won’t have to see him. You said so yourself. Why not get the most fun out of it while you can?”

I exhaled. She didn’t get it after all. “I’m not like you, Ruby. I can’t.”

Ruby sighed. “It’s like giving a good steak to a vegetarian.”

TWO HOURS LATER, I stood in front of Owen’s door. A sliver of light peeked from underneath, and the lingering trace of his cologne—woodsy, with a hint of something sharp, something undeniably him —hung in the air.

I was tempted. So tempted to knock, to see what would happen.

Instead, I walked into my room and closed the door behind me.

Ruby would be disappointed in me .

To keep myself busy, I flipped through the notes I’d made at work.

We needed to restock on lavender and eucalyptus essential oils, Candelilla wax for our balms, and glass jars for the new batch of organic whipped body butter.

I also wanted to film a video about making our hand-poured soy candles with dried botanicals—something I discovered could boost sales.

After work the next day, Ruby’s words still lingered in my mind, so I went straight to the garage, tied my hair up, and slipped on my work apron.

I arranged everything I needed on the long wooden worktable—essential oils lined up in neat rows, wicks cut and ready, wax melting in a double boiler on a portable burner.

The garage had been transformed into more than a workspace—it was part of the brand and my happy place.

String lights hung from the rafters, casting a warm glow, and open shelves displayed finished candles, soothing bath salts in amber glass bottles, and small tins of lip balm.

It smelled like cinnamon, lavender, and vanilla, with a hint of fresh citrus from the zest I had set aside for an upcoming scrub.

I started recording, talking through the first steps as I poured the melted wax into molds. Five minutes in, I paused to check my setup, making sure the shot captured the flickering candlelight just right.

That’s when I felt him.

Owen’s presence filled the space before he even spoke.

I turned to look at him. Dark brown hair, blue eyes, and an athlete’s build were all illuminated by the workshop’s golden light. I nearly audibly gulped.

“Am I interrupting?” His voice was low, somewhat raspy, as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.

“No.” A second too late. It sounded like he was.

His gaze skimmed over the table, the jars, the half-finished candles. “Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t look sorry. “I took a peek in here before. It looks great.”

Inside, I knew he was interrupting. Not my work. Not my video. But my peace of mind.