Page 70 of Sin of Love
Oh, sweet woman, you really don’t know?
“For the same reason I came after you.”
“Because I’m your muse?” She spits the word out in disgust.
I almost laugh.
“Non, mon bijou.”
My phone starts ringing again, vibrating where it’s pinned between my balls and the ground. I spit out a few more grains of sand and shift a little, trying to move the phone away from my junk. The vibration is a bit distracting.
“Why is he here?” asks Deirdre, her mouth almost on my ear. She doesn’t seem to notice, and I try very hard to divorce how good she feels on top of me with the moment.
“Huh? Who?”
Her arm lifts, pointing down the beach to our little cottage. I squint, picking out the figure of a man near the front steps. He lifts one hand, then uses the other to point at it with exaggerated movements. If I didn’t know who he was by then, his identity would be confirmed by the fact he’s wearing no hat or coat and only a light sweater.
Fucking Irish.
“I think he’s pointing at a phone,” says my little genius. “Did he call you?”
I sigh. “Up you go. Let’s see what the Irishman wants.”
Deirdre’s weight leaves my back. I stand, brushing off my jacket and pants for a few moments before realizing it’s a lost cause. The clothes will have to dry before the sand can come off.
“Sorry I knocked you down.”
I give her a droll look. “No, you’re not.”
And then
it
happens.
She grins. Rosy cheeks, bright eyes, dimple to the left of her mouth. Little wisps of hair framing her face, dancing in the breeze. A look of utter fucking mischief.
Right now—I could die right now and be satisfied.
Just as quickly as it came, the smile vanishes. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you looking at me like that?”
I laugh and shake my head. “No reason. Come on.”
We continue our trudge back to the cottage and now, Liam. Halfway there, Deirdre grabs my gloved hand with hers. I pretend it’s no big deal, which isn’t fucking easy as I almost trip from the shock.
“You don’t seem surprised to see him,” she notes as we start on the final incline, where the ground transitions from sand to grassy soil.
“He didn’t give me an exact date, but yes, I knew he’d be visiting.”
“Why is he here?”
What Liam is here to deliver—hopefully—are our new passports, American and French citizenship papers and identification, along with dossiers with detailed histories of our new identities.
Everything we need to disappear.
