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TRENT TIPPED HIS beer bottle to his lips and icy-cold lager slipped down his parched throat. Dance music thumped from the speakers and a hundred or so semiclad people yelled, screamed and danced on the sand. What had he been thinking asking Izzy here? This was the very last place she should be. Why hadn’t he insisted on cooking for her at his place? A glass of wine, some of that classical music she liked...
“You’re an idiot,” he murmured. “A class-A idiot.”
“I couldn’t agree more, but since I’m here, you can start by getting the first of many glasses of wine I intend to have tonight.”
Relief swept through him and Trent smiled. Izzy. She came. He slowly turned and the smart comeback he had in mind froze on his tongue. Holy crap. She’d twisted her long blond hair to the side in some sort of fancy plait, the tip brushing her right breast. Her eyelids softly shimmered, the lashes thick and dark, making her blue eyes bigger than ever.
Trent blinked. “You look...you look...”
“Underweight according to Kate. I know.” She lifted her shoulders. “Losing a brother can do that to a girl. How about that wine?”
He swallowed against the dryness in his throat and he was relieved when he opened his mouth and words actually emerged. “I admit, I’d be more than happy to see some more meat on your bones, but I was actually going to say you look amazing.”
Their gazes locked for a second before she looked to the beach behind him. “Thanks.”
He took her hand and pride washed through him when she didn’t pull away as he’d expected. “Let’s get you that drink.”
People stared as they passed on their way to the makeshift bar and Trent stiffened his shoulders. As much as he’d loved living in Templeton Cove these past four years, there were still times when a guy couldn’t be blamed for wanting the anonymity of a city.
He tightened his grip on Izzy’s hand. When her fingers clenched his in response, it was all too clear she felt the heat of the town’s curiosity too. He stopped. “Do you want to get out of here?”
Her eyes darkened with determination. “And why would I want to do that?”
“Come on, Iz. You know why. If I had known people were going to—”
“Stare? Pity me? Then that’s too bad, because I’ve thought of little else since you stormed into my studio and gave me no choice but to come tonight.” She eased her hand from his and lifted it in a nonchalant wave. “Well, I did as the big alpha male commanded and I’m here. I want to dance and get drunk. Now, you either stay and look after me, or I’ll find someone else equally as capable.”
She brushed past him and he stepped back, his gaze falling to her perfect ass in a short black skirt. Hope rose inside him and he smiled. Whether Izzy realized it or not, she was already showing signs of her old self. Long may it continue. He was more than happy to deal with whatever she had in mind to throw at him—he was strong enough, liked her enough to take her punches. He was a patient man and would wait for her to come to the conclusion that they were great together, just as he’d thought she had done three months before.
He sidled up to her at the bar, where the barman filled a large glass with white wine. The guy’s gaze slid back and forth between the V of Izzy’s shirt and the glass he filled. Trent cleared his throat. “And a bottle of beer when you’re ready, my friend.”
The barman lifted his gaze. “Be right with you.”
Trent narrowed his eyes as the guy moved to the fridges behind him.
“What’s your problem, Firefighter Trent?” Izzy laughed. “You think he’s edging in on your territory or something?”
Rare heat hit Trent’s face. Worse, it matched the heat of the protectiveness roaring behind his rib cage. “’Course not, but you being hit on wasn’t part of the deal tonight.”
“Part of the deal?” Izzy grinned and sipped her wine. “The deal tonight will be whatever I choose it to be.”
He tossed a glare at the barman. “Is that so?”
Her fingers touched his chin, turning his face to hers. The spot where her fingers lingered simmered with a frisson of electricity. He met her gaze and fought the urge to kiss her. “What?”
“Once you have your drink, we’re going to dance.”
Trent shook his head, his gaze hovering on her mouth. “I don’t dance.”
“You do tonight.” She picked up her glass and left the bar.
She walked across the small breadth of decking and down the sand-covered steps onto the beach. Why couldn’t it be any other girl in the entire world who haunted his dreams and made him want to fix her life in every way? Why Robbie’s sister? Why the woman who blamed him for an unthinkable tragedy, detested him and would undoubtedly rip his heart from his chest once she found the worst possible way to do it?
He clenched his jaw. Deep inside, he sensed Izzy would be incapable of cruelty no matter how much she might want to humiliate him. Her kindness and false sense of bravado were the things that struck at his very core since he first laid eyes on her. From the moment she’d walked into the Coast bar to join her brother for a late-night drink, Trent had wanted to know who she was. The discovery that Izzy was the sister of the first guy he’d befriended in Templeton had been an obstacle he was determined to overcome.
It had taken him almost four years to have the honor of kissing and touching such a beautiful and wonderful woman. Then Robbie was killed and Trent hadn’t for one moment considered the strength of Izzy’s resistance to having anything more to do with him.
“That’s six pounds, twenty, mate.”
The barman’s voice sliced through Trent’s reverie and he turned, sliding his hand into his back pocket for his wallet. Saying nothing, his eyes still on the barman’s. The guy had clearly decided Izzy was a free agent from the way his cool stare met Trent’s.
Trent slid a ten-pound note from his wallet and held it out. “Keep the change.”
The barman nodded, his face somber as he reached for the money. “I’ll put it in the charity box.”
“You do that, and for the record, that girl I’m with, she’s out of bounds.”
The barman smiled. “I didn’t get the impression she considers herself yours, mate.”
“One, I’m not your mate and, two, she’s had a rough time of it lately and doesn’t need guys hitting on her left, right and center.”
The barman took the note from Trent’s fingers and raised his eyebrows. “Fair enough. Might be a good idea if you took your own advice, if that’s the case.”
He walked away and Trent glared at the barman’s retreating back as he picked up his beer. He took a hefty slug and turned to the beach, his gaze immediately picking out Izzy as she stood alone, jigging lightly to an R&B track, her almost-empty glass swaying back and forth in her hand.
He headed in her direction. Even if he could never get her to accept that Robbie had died before the fire service’s arrival on the scene, he would do anything to make her genuinely smile again. He’d make that happen, even if he was eventually forced to admit defeat and surrender her to another man. If someone else—apart from the cocky barman—could hold her in his arms and make her smile, it would be enough for him to let her go.
Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.
He moved beside her and she turned, her eyebrows raised. “Finished your face-off with the bar staff?”
He took another drink. “Yep.”
“Good.” She reached