Page 72 of Bracing The Storm

“Sure you do. But saving drunken fishermen from drowning in raging waters might not be Mia’s definition of it.” I type up a quick response to tell her I’ve no idea what she’s talking about. Her response comes back almost instantly.

Mia: Check your pics and the rambling to go with them. Care to explain?

“What is she saying?” Patrick leans over the table to get a look at the screen. So much for privacy!

Ignoring him, I open the photos app and find a folder dated last night. The first few photos are blurry, as though they were taken through a window from inside a moving car. There’s one of a beach. The moonlight’s reflecting on the surface of the water. It must be freezing, but the man stripping off his clothes doesn’t seem to mind. Of course, I can’t tell for sure who that is because his head is cut off, but that body! I’d recognize those rows of muscles from a mile.

My head feels dizzy as I keep scrolling. There’s one of a church, white-washed walls shimmering in the moonlight peeking through dark clouds.

I frown. When did I take a photo of a church and why is there a middle-aged man leaning through an open window on the upper floor?

Patrick steps behind me, his hot breath grazing the skin on my neck.

“That’s the pastor.” Patrick clears his throat, his lips twitching. “He didn’t seem very keen on being woken at three in the morning.”

I turn around, looking at him in disbelief.

“You know about this?” For the first time, Ireallylook at him and realize he doesn’t seem confused or surprised. In fact, he’s a little too calm and collected.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

His expression is a little pinched as he takes the cell phone out of my hands and pushes it across the table. I can’t help but think he’s keeping it out of my reach in case I might decide to hit him upside the head with it.

“How much do you remember from last night?”

My brain goes into overdrive, but there isn’t much to retrieve, just bits and pieces. Lots of moaning and clutching at the sheets, before Patrick jumped into the shower and I finished that wine bottle while he wasn’t looking. By that time I suspect I was already a little tipsy. What follows after are fragments of memories that make no sense.

“I had a bit of wine and then we—” I gesture with my hand, leaving the obvious unspoken, as heat rushes to my face.

“What else?”

“After that? Nothing.” I start to shake my head but stop midway. “Wait! A beach.”

He nods. “You wanted to go to the beach. Dared me to skinny dip at night.”

“I don’t remember any of that.” Seriously, what did that wine do to me? “And? Did you?”

“I told you we’ll save that for summer when there’s less of a likelihood of catching hypothermia, but you wouldn’t have any of it. And then”—he takes a deep breath, his lips twitching in the process—“you started talking about neither of us getting any younger and life being too short.”

“Boy, I must have been on a roll there.”

Patrick nods. “But that’s not all. Just wait for it. You really were on a roll, and very persuasive.” He shrugs casually, “In the end, we decided to get married, which explains the church.”

I stare at him. My jaw’s probably hit the floor—not a flattering look on anyone. Did he just say we decided to getmarriedas in?—

Hitched?

Tied the knot?

“We—”

“Surely you noticed that.” He clears his throat and points at my ring finger. I lift my hand to peer at the delicate gold band with a tiny sparkling diamond. How did I not see it before?

It must be the orgasm-induced bubble that’s made me feel as though I’m floating on cloud nine.

“I—” I open my mouth to speak, then snap it shut again, resembling a fish out of the water. My mind’s reeling, unable to process what’s happening. I’m lost and confused and unsure what to make of this. “We didn’t really—” My voice breaks.

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