Page 5 of Falling for Nicole
Chapter Two
Declan
I stand and stare at her back as she walks off down the beach. Who am I kidding…I stare at herarseas she walks off down the beach.
She’s never stood up for herself like that before, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Or that she thinks she’s got a magical pussy.
I laugh to myself as I run my hand through my hair, pushing the wet strands away from my face. Shaking my head, I run the last few minutes through my mind. What happened to Nicole? Where has the shy little ginger girl who used to drive me insane gone?
I sit myself down on the rock she just left and look out to sea. Memories of the last time I saw her hit me like a fucking truck. The darkness of her green eyes as she looked up at me, begging for me to kiss her in her hallway mere hours after she’d said goodbye to her mother.
I nearly fucking did as well.
I was a millisecond from lowering my lips to hers before the reason why she was so fucking vulnerable in that moment hit me upside the head. She was in no fit state to be making decisions, and I would forever feel like I’d taken advantage.
Plus, I fucking hate her; why the fuck the thought of kissing her even crossed my mind was beyond me. I put it down to the exhaustion. We’d had a long arse drive up there for the funeral, and then my bloody sister decided the wake was the perfect time to go into labour.
A shiver runs through me as I think about that. Even all these months on, it still haunts me.
The reason I’m acting like a crazy man with these thoughts about Nicole must be due to my lack of sex the last few days. I make a note to text Georgia for a bootie call later, and push myself off the rock. I’ve got too much to think about with my new business opening in a matter of weeks to be preoccupied with her and her personality transplant.
I tug my board from the sand and walk along the beach the same way she had only minutes ago. I convince myself she’s just visiting, but I know it’s a lie. I walked past her car when I left my sister’s house last night and saw it loaded with all her stuff. I felt like a pussy running like that, but I panicked. The last time I saw Nicole, I had her backed up in her hallway, practically begging me to put my hands on her.
I’m just about to walk to my shop when a shadow catches my eye around the corner. Taking two more steps to check it out, I come to a sudden stop when I see what—or who—it is. She’s stood leaning against the bricks with her head tipped up to the sky, her eyes shut like she’s praying while her dog sits at her feet.
My heart thuds in my chest and I have this sudden urge to walk over and pull her to me.
I watch for a few seconds too long; the moment she pulls her head forward, her eyes find mine. I see her mouth drop in shock but I don’t stand there any longer to find out what she’s going to do or say.
I pull the key from its hiding place and push it into the lock. I’ve had the surf shop here right on the beach front for just over a year now. It’s the perfect position, and it was the best decision I ever made. I’m hoping my recent purchase of the café next door will only make it more successful. I head straight to the office at the back of the building and pull my wetsuit down my legs before replacing it with a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Pushing the tarpaulin hiding the building work going on next door out of the way, I walk through to what’s going to be my surf shack: café by day and bar by night.
“What the fuck?” As I step out of the office, water hits my feet. The perfectly sanded and stained floorboards are covered in inches of it. Storming back through the tarp, I grab my phone and pull up my builder’s contact, pressing it to my ear as it rings, ready to give it to him. This isn’t fucking happening. We’re meant to be opening in two fucking weeks.
In an attempt to distract myself, I begin cleaning the mess as I wait for the builders to arrive.
“What the fuck, man?” I shout over to Bob, the guy in charge, the second he appears.
“Mains pipe burst overnight.”
“What’s the damage? How long’s it going to put us back?”
“Looks like the skirting needs replacing, and the bar. I’m hopeful the plaster will be okay, but it’ll need redecorating.”
“So basically, you’re telling me we’re not going to be open for bank holiday weekend?”
“Doubt it.”
By the time BJ shows his face to start work, I’m thoroughly pissed off.
“Wow, what crawled up your arse and died?” BJ asks as he walks across the decking to find me stood staring out across the beach.
“Pipe burst. There’s water fucking everywhere.”
“Shit, how bad?”
“It’s a fucking leak, BJ.” He holds his hands up in defence. “Sorry,” I mutter.
“How was the surf this morning?” he asks, changing the subject.
