Page 199 of Better When Shared
He’d fallen a dozen times already this morning, each time emerging from the water laughing, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes bright with determination.
This new version of Hamish fascinated me. He was playful, daring, and willing to look foolish in pursuit of joy. In Dorset, he never allowed himself to be anything less than perfectly composed. Here, with saltwater dripping from his nose and sand clinging to his wetsuit, he seemed more alive than he’d been in years.
Makai glided effortlessly toward him, demonstrating something with his hands—paddle position, maybe, or timing. Whatever it was, Hamish nodded, absorbing the instruction with the same intensity he usually reserved for investment portfolios and wine selections.
After a brief consultation, Hamish paddled back out toward the break, determination written in every line of his body. Makai caught one final wave, making a complicated trick look as easyas breathing, before jogging up the beach toward me, surfboard tucked under his arm.
“Your husband’s a natural,” he said, dropping his board onto the sand beside my blanket. “When are you going to try it?”
I laughed. “Soon, I promise. But I’m wiped out from the wedding this weekend. They were demanding clients.”
“Tell me more. Did you Karen them?” He tugged at the zipper of his wetsuit, peeling it down to reveal the golden expanse of his chest and abs before letting the upper portion settle around his waist. Water droplets clung to his skin, tracing paths down the defined muscles of his torso that my fingers itched to follow.
“Hardly,” I laughed. “I’m never a Karen.”
Makai snorted. “The first time we met, you very firmly asked to speak to the person in charge.”
“That’s a normal thing to say!” I protested. “I only wanted you to move your trailer.”
“Sure thing, Karen.”
I slapped his arm, and he burst out laughing.
Across the beach, Hamish let out a yelp as his board went shooting out from under him and he flipped onto his back, landing in the water with a dramatic splash.
“He’s fallen more times than I can count,” I said.
“That’s how you learn.” Makai settled beside me on my beach blanket, his shoulder occasionally brushing mine as we tracked Hamish’s progress. “Just gotta get right back on the board.”
I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “I’ve never seen him apply this kind of determination to something so adventurous before. But he’s like this when he’s training his horses.”
Makai leaned back on his elbows, his face turned toward the sun. “What’s it like, your life in England? All castles and royal balls?”
I snorted, tucking a windblown strand of hair behind my ear. “Hardly castles. Though I suppose our home is rather large by most standards.”
“Define ‘large.’”
“The main house has eight bedrooms. Plus the guest cottage, the caretaker’s cottage, and the old stables we converted into offices.” I shrugged, feeling self-conscious. “It’s been in Hamish’s family for generations.”
“Eight bedrooms and two spare cottages?” Makai whistled. “For two people? You must get lost looking for the bathroom at night.”
“There are six bathrooms, so they’re easy to find.” I grinned despite myself. “Truthfully, we don’t use most of the rooms. They’re just... there. Tradition, I suppose. Hamish’s parents were very particular about preserving the estate as it’s always been. When they passed, he inherited it. I couldn’t very well argue with his desire to stay. To grieve. But now I wonder if it left him sort of… stuck.”
“So he trains horses? Why doesn’t he do that as a job?”
“I don’t know, really.” “Because they’re terrifying?” Makai offered.
I laughed. “He definitely does not find horses terrifying. Do you?”
“They’re just so… big. And stompy.”
I giggled. “Stompy. Right. Well, Hamish doesn’t find them stompy, but he seems to have lost his way a little since his parents passed. When I met him, he was obsessed with polo, and dreamed of training polo ponies. But their death came as quite a shock. It was a car accident. And his father always wanted him to work in finance, so that’s what he decided to do.” The wind whipped my hair around my face, and I brushed it back. “We still have horses—thoroughbreds, mainly. I love them, too.”
“Lady Imogen and her noble steeds.” Makai’s smile was teasing but warm. “Do you wear one of those fancy riding outfits with the little hat?”
“It’s called a hunt cap, and yes, I do.” I bumped his shoulder with mine. “Don’t mock. I’ve won regional steeplechase races. I’m quite good.”
“Of course you are. And I’d never mock. I would cheer you on, from a safe distance.” He looked out toward Hamish, who had just caught a decent-sized wave. “So you’re not a wedding planner back home?”
