By a Thread (Page 33)

That left me alone in the living room with Owen. He hadn’t said much in Callie’s office or on the ride over to the beach house, but he’d been staring at me with a dark, guarded expression ever since Donovan had shown up at the Sea Breeze.

"How about we take that walk on the beach now?" he suggested. "And give Finn and Bria some privacy."

I nodded. Owen didn’t say anything else, but I had some explaining to do, and we both knew it.

I grabbed a couple of large blankets and a blue-and-white-striped beach umbrella from one of the downstairs closets. Owen took the umbrella from me, hoisting the white metal pole up on his shoulder like it weighed nothing. I took a moment to admire the ripple of his muscles under his shirt. Unlike the other wealthy businessmen in Ashland, Owen came by his sculptured physique the old-fashioned way – through hard physical labor. He’d spent years working as a blacksmith while he built up his own business empire, and he still made weapons and iron sculptures in the forge in the back of his house.

Once our supplies were gathered, we set out. We were on the far side of the island from the hotel, and according to Bria, this was the quiet part of Blue Marsh. The local folks rented out their fancy beach houses for exorbitant fees and went somewhere cooler for the summer, while the tourists moved in to get away from the problems that plagued them back home. For a few days, anyway. Too bad it wasn’t working out that way for me.

It was still early in the season, and we passed only one other person – a woman playing with a small, sand-colored corgi along the water’s edge. Owen and I wandered about a mile from the house, stopping when we came to a small curve in the beach. The ocean rushed back into a hidden cove that slithered inward like a fat snake trying to wiggle its way inland. A small ridge of glossy black rocks ran along the back of the cove, separating it from the rest of the island. Beyond the rocks, I could see the cypress trees and tall, waving cattails of the island’s boggy marshes.

Off to my right, the ridge rose to a sharp, jagged peak, and a small lighthouse clung to the edge of the rocks there. The lighthouse had been black at one time, with thin white stripes running down its sides, although all the paint had long since faded to various shades of gray. From the way the structure was boarded up, it had been abandoned long ago and left to someday fall into the ever-encroaching sea.

We strolled into the cove. The ridge of rocks and the lighthouse provided a bit of shade, making the air seem a bit cooler back here, and the waves muted to more of a misty, refreshing spray. I spread out the blankets while Owen planted the umbrella in the sand, then opened it. I pulled off my sneakers and socks, sat down on the edge of one of the blankets, hugged my knees to my chest, and dug my bare toes into the warm, crusty golden sand. Owen plopped down beside me, kicking off his own shoes and socks, and leaned back on his elbows. We sat there and watched the water foam and froth for several minutes.

"So," Owen finally said. "Donovan Caine."

"Yeah, Donovan."

A few seagulls and terns with fluffy white feathers circled overhead, although the constant rush of the ocean mostly drowned out their hoarse, hungry cries.

"I had no idea that he was in Blue Marsh," I said. "When Donovan left Ashland, he didn’t tell me where he was going, and I didn’t try to find him. You know that."

Owen nodded.

I drew in a breath. Now came the hard part. "I know that I should have told you last night that I’d seen him again, that he was Callie’s fiance. But I wasn’t sure how to tell you. I was still trying to figure out how I felt about seeing him again."

"And have you? Figured out how you feel about him?"

I shrugged. "Nothing’s changed between us. I still kill people, and he still hates me for it. Same old, same old."

"Yes," Owen agreed. "Same old, same old. Right down to the way that he looks at you."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

He sighed. "Donovan might be engaged to Callie, might have put a ring on her finger and promised to love her forever – hell, he might even really love her forever. But he was looking at you the whole time that we were in her office."

I thought that Donovan had done a rather splendid job of not looking at me at all, but I didn’t say anything.

"He still wants you," Owen said in a hard, blunt tone. "Even now he’s thinking about making a play for you, but I’ll be damned if he’s going to have you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that jealousy I hear?"

"You’re damn right I’m jealous," Owen growled. "Because I saw how you used to look at him, and he didn’t even realize it. But more than that, I saw how much it hurt you when Donovan turned his back on you when he realized that you’d survived the collapse of Tobias Dawson’s coal mine."

I couldn’t help but flinch. Things had not gone well when I’d tried to kill Dawson at a party that Mab had thrown. The dwarf had gotten the drop on me instead and knocked me out. I’d woken up in one of Dawson’s coal mines – the one with all the diamonds in it that ran right under Warren Fox’s land. Using my Ice and Stone magic, I’d caved in the mine – hell, the whole damn mountain – on top of Dawson and his men, killing them.

After that, I’d managed to crawl and claw my way out of the collapsed mine with a little bit of skill and a whole lot of luck. When I’d finally made it back to civilization, I’d expected Donovan to be, well, happy to see me. Or at least f**king relieved that I’d survived. Instead, the detective had seemed disgusted and disappointed, like things would have been so much easier for him if I’d been buried under that mountain forever and wasn’t around to tempt him anymore. Donovan had even gone so far as to turn his back on me, instead of trying to help me and see that I got the medical attention that I needed. The detective’s open, curt dismissal had cut me deeper than I liked to admit. Even today, I could still feel the faint sting of it. That had been the beginning of the end of Donovan and me, even if I hadn’t realized it at the time.

"Not one of my finest moments, I admit," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. "I excel at killing men, not so much at picking the right ones to date. At least, I didn’t until I met you."

Owen smiled a little at that, but his face soon turned serious once more.

"You don’t even see it, do you?" he asked. "How similar you are to Callie."

I frowned. "What do you mean? I’m nothing like Callie."

He shook his head. "Sure you are. Think about it. You’re both beautiful, strong, smart women. You both have dark hair and pale eyes. You both run these cool, quirky restaurants and are great cooks. Hell, she even wears blue aprons just like you do at the Pork Pit. It’s a little eerie if you ask me."