Page 63 of Meet Me in Tahiti

She waited a beat, the silence pressing in like a too-heavy blanket. He didn’t answer. Why didn’t he answer? Had she misjudged the situation? Was her head lost in the clouds?

Instead, he pulled her into his arms and held her. She felt the tears slipping from his eyes and onto her hair, just a few wet, warm tears, but enough to know that all of this meant something to him, too.

Her heart burned, but there was comfort in that, even if he couldn’t say the words to her.

He rested his chin gently on her head as she sobbed quietly, clinging to him.

But this wasn’t over. She wasn’t ready to give him up yet. She had to feel his lips on hers again, remember how he tasted, remind him how she could make him feel.

She reached for his face, and he brought his mouth to hers. He kissed her back, deeply, passionately, as if he, too, was grappling with the knowledge that they might never get the chance to do this again. Her heart exploded once more.

But then?—

Footsteps. And a voice, coming from the sandy path just a few steps away. “Oh, excuse me…”

Tessa pulled back, the moment broken like a dropped seashell, and Russ straightened his shoulders but didn’t turn around.

“Sorry,” the man said, his voice hesitant, the embarrassment clear. Somewhere behind them, the gentle hush of waves brushing the beach sent faint shivers through the humid night air.

“Line for the men’s restroom’s a mile long,” the man muttered, making his way down the path. “Only meant to come out here to…”

He paused suddenly as he passed them, and Tessa saw him squint under the dim silver glow of the moon, filtering softly through the leaves. The air felt thick, almost sticky, as though the humidity itself was watching. She held her breath.

“Wait—Callen? That you?”

Tessa looked up to see Russ’s cheeks paling, like moonlight draining from his face. Panic flickered across his features, his lips parting slightly as he glanced down at her, still in his arms.

Who was this man? Was he someone important?

Russell let go of her slowly, as though releasing a fragile thread, his fingers lingering a beat too long. He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step back. The sudden absence of his touch made Tessa’s heart pound. She straightened her hair and smoothed her clothes, her palms damp with nervous sweat.

“Captain Walker,” he said flatly, clearing his throat. His voice was low, but she heard the tightness, like a rope pulled taut.

The older man’s expression was hard to read in the dappled moonlight. He’d clearly understood what he’d interrupted, but his hesitation painted an awkward silence between them.

He glanced at Tessa, his eyes narrowing as he studied her for a few moments. The soft chirp of distant insects seemed to swell in the quiet. Then he grimaced at Russ. “Wait—is this a guest of yours?” The tone was sharp, layered with accusation.

Russ hesitated, his shoulders hunching slightly, as if the weight of the humid night pressed upon him. “Uh… yes, she is,” he said softly, almost like an apology.

Tessa swallowed hard, her gut twisting, her throat suddenly dry. This man—another captain, no less—hadcaught them, red-handed. And Russ was now in some very hot water.

Walker nodded, his lips pursed as if biting back words, before he turned to look deeper into the trees, his expression hardening into something unreadable as he scrubbed a hand roughly across his jaw. This sort of thing was exactly what Russ had been trying so hard to avoid all week, and it was all her fault. Her heart slammed against her rib cage.

The captain returned his gaze to Russ, eyes narrowing, voice stern. “You do know the rules about this kind of thing, don’t you, Callen?”

Tessa’s stomach knotted as Russ dropped his gaze, guilt etched in every line of his face.

“Yes, sir,” he said despondently. “I do.”

Chapter

Eighteen

The sand was still being kickedup in the direction Captain Walker had gone—Russ could clearly hear the man’s footsteps—but the old captain himself was out of sight now. Just a dark silhouette moving back toward the firelight of the beach. He hadn’t said another word. He'd just stared at them, long and hard, huffed, and turned on his heels.

Russ exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest refusing to loosen.

Beside him, Tessa wiped her face with both hands, swiping at her cheeks like she could erase the emotion. Her shoulders hunched forward, breath catching as if she were holding back the last of the tears.

---