Page 61 of The Oscar Escape
He touched the bit of silver and gold. “I just remembered when we drove to Telluride on my sixteenth birthday. It was the first time I had you to myself. Me and you—no friends, no family, no little sisters, no nanny matchmaker dropping in to say hello.”
“Why did you take me to Telluride? You were like a man on a mission. I’ll ask you again. Were we there to get your mom’s ring?”
He couldn’t brush off the question.
“At first, I just wanted to drive, and then I looked over at you—at your hands—and got the same feeling as when I was younger and would play in the creek near the Telluride cabin. My mom would call out to me when it was time to come in. She always had something for me—lunch, a popsicle, some new recipe to try. When we got there, I went into her room. It was like the ring was calling to me. But it was calling to you, too. That has to sound crazy.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t because . . .”
He watched her gaze grow glassy. “What is it?”
“I felt it, too, like I was supposed to be there with you.”
He laced his fingers with hers, relishing the fit of her hand in his. The curves of the ring pressed into his skin. He’d worn it around his neck for years, but to see it on Aria, to feel it touch them both, revealed the hopeful side of himself he’d locked away. It lightened the heavy burden he’d carried for years.
“I love you. Every part of me loves you,” he whispered, his throat thickening with emotion. It was almost too much to take after closing himself off for years, like he’d been trapped in darkness and just had his first glimpse of the sun.
“I know. And you’re right about every part,” she added and rolled her hips. “My naughty-down-there region is well aware of it.” She dished out a devilish smirk—a look that pulled him further into her light. “Don’t worry, I have it on good authority that what you’re experiencing is called a nor—”
“Don’t say it,” he growled, biting back a grin. He kissed her, loving her even more for giving him the escape he needed from his demons. He edged his way down to the end of the bed. “Tell your naughty-down-there parts I’m coming for them. They should be prepared to—”
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!
Oscar gasped and tumbled off the bed.
Who the hell was knocking on the door?
Aria shrieked.
“Open up,” came a man’s voice from the other side.
Oscar scrambled to his feet.
Aria pressed her hand to her mouth and pointed to his normal penis thing, aka his raging hard-on.
“Open the door,” the visitor bellowed.
“It’s the judge,” she mouthed, wide-eyed. “Do what he says. Open the door.”
Oscar needed something to hide what was going on in his boxer briefs. He swiped the first item he saw and hauled ass to the door. He glanced over his shoulder and caught Aria wrestling to get the lobster tank top over her head.
Christ, they were screwed.
The judge started another round of knocking.
Oscar creaked open the door a few inches. “Hey there, Judge Harpswell,” he blurted. “What brings you to the lighthouse?”
The gentleman stood there in a lobster-red raincoat. A brown leather satchel crossed his ample body. “The Coast Guard,” the man answered plainly.
“Really, the Coast Guard, you say,” Oscar parroted back, going for a small-talk vibe.
“They called in and told us a boat spotted two people trespassing in the lantern room,” the man reported.
Holy hell!The last thing he and Aria needed was to rack up more offenses. They hadn’t even been on the island for twenty-four hours.
“Did the Coast Guard mention what those people were doing?”
The judge looked him over. “No.”
