First Love, Second Chance: Friends to Forever / Second Chance with the Rebel / It Started with a Crush...

‘Why couldn’t I let you go?’

His voice swam in and out with the lapping tide and, ultimately, washed clear through her head and out again as she slipped into sleep, quite literally, on her feet.

CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_98706c58-b096-5a77-b116-fc6e52186919)

A HIGH-pitched shriek dragged Beth from a deep, uncomfortable slumber. A musty smell filled her nose and she shifted around uncomfortable rocks that had somehow found their way into her bed.

Her eyes cracked open. Not a bed … the back of a car. And the shriek was a Wedge-tailed Eagle that, even now, circled the dim skies in search of breakfast. The rocks were the detritus that littered the back of Marc’s four-wheel drive, cutting into her back and thighs where she lay on them. And the mustiness was a mix of the skanky old blanket that wrapped tortilla-like around her and the salty moisture of her clothes, her hair. Dry yet damp.

God damn it, Marc!

Fury forced her upright and every seized muscle in her body protested violently. She should have kept moving. She should have kept helping. Not sleeping comfortably—or even uncomfortably—while Marc froze his butt off alone with the whale.

She lurched like a caterpillar towards the rear doors of the wagon and used her bare feet to activate the internal handle. Icy-cold air streamed in as she pushed the doors with her legs and her skin prickled all over with gooseflesh.

It took longer than it should have, but she eventually scrambled out of the car and tucked the dirty blanket more securely around her against the chill wind. Up here, exposed above the dunes, it was almost worse than down on the shore. The world around her was still muted but tiny fingers of light tickled at the horizon.

‘How long have I been out?’ She didn’t waste any time with pleasantries as she got back to the shoreline. Marc was up to his knees in the rapidly retreating ocean, practically sagging on the whale for strength. ‘Why did you let me sleep?’

He turned his face her way. Haggard but still beautiful. To her. ‘You passed out in my arms, Beth. You were exhausted.’

‘So are you.’

‘I wasn’t the one asleep on my feet.’ Frost rose from his lips with every word.

Beth’s whole face tightened on a frown. Anxiety flowed through her. ‘How are you?’

‘Freezing. Thanks for asking.’

‘What can I do?’

‘You can not give me grief for putting an unconscious woman into my car.’

She bit back her frustration. ‘I’m sorry to be ungracious. I just. You were alone.’

‘I’ve done this before, on my own, Beth.’

‘You shouldn’t be alone.’

Well …! That was a mouthful and a half straight from her sleepy subconscious. The moment the words left her, she knew she meant more than just today. This man deserved the right woman by his side, for ever. A bit of happiness. He’d earned it.

Not that she was the right woman. Beth frowned at the instant denial her mind tossed up. It was a little too fervent.

‘Why are you single?’

He lifted one eyebrow. ‘Why are you asking?’

‘Because you’d be a catch, I would have thought. Even in the country. ‘ Where men outnumbered women ten to one.

‘Thanks for the confidence.’

All the time that had passed might not have existed. They fitted instantly back together. Back into the gentle jibes only friends could make.

‘I’ve had girlfriends.’

Olympic Tasmin for one. ‘Anything special?’

His eyes studied the lightening horizon. ‘Nothing lasting, if that’s what you’re asking. But all nice women.’

‘So what went wrong?’

He glared at her. ‘I hope you’re not warming up to offer relationship advice?’

Despite herself, she laughed. ‘No. I may be a lot of things, but a hypocrite is not one of them. ‘ Her eyes went to the whale. She looked ominously still. ‘How is she?’

‘Worse than either of us. But hanging in there.’ His words were full of staged optimism. As though the giant animal could understand him.

‘You’re not going to give up on her, are you?’

‘Nope.’ He turned to the whale and spoke directly to her. Beth got the feeling there had been several man-to-whale conversations while she was out like a light. ‘I’m not going to let you go.’

She frowned, those words striking a chord she couldn’t name deep inside. They seemed somehow important but she couldn’t place why. The eagle called again, high up in the part of the sky that was still a deep, dark disguise.

‘It says a lot about you.’

His look upward was a question.

‘How hard you’re fighting for this whale. To give her a chance. You really haven’t changed that much after all.’

Marc bit down on whatever he’d been about to say and clenched his jaw shut. Hard. She practically felt the atmosphere shift. Maybe he wasn’t in the mood for conversation after her revelations in the small hours of morning. She fought the heat of shame that rose on that thought and the sinking surge of self-doubt that followed. Then she braced herself against the cold, tossed back the blanket and bundled it into her arms. Before her body could convince her not to, she plunged back up to her knees in the icy wash and sank the blanket under the water; its frigid kiss shocked her into full awakening. She dragged its weighty thickness up and over the whale, shrouding its skin in dampness. The nasty arrowhead scar on its tail was exposed again.

That couldn’t be good. It meant the tide was retreating. If it went much further out it would mean the whale would be high and dry.

As soon as the blanket was secured, she moved, aching, up the beach and collected the empty two-litre container and commenced the bend-fill-slosh ritual all over again. Her body didn’t even bother protesting this time. It knew when it was licked.

Marc watched every move.

‘How are you doing?’ he finally asked. Tension tinged his voice, but it was concern etched in his face. And caution.

Oh.

She stumbled slightly when she realised he was talking about drinking. Or not drinking in the case of this very difficult eighteen hours. And he wasn’t particularly happy to be asking.

The thought of alcohol had not even crossed her mind since she’d woken. That had to be a first. Although it shot back with a vengeance now. Hunger. Thirst. Craving. Needing. They all mixed together into an uncomfortable obsession for just about everything you could put in your mouth.

She feigned misunderstanding. ‘I’m ready for a big plate of bacon and eggs, a big mug of hot tea and a Bloody Mary.’

Hazel eyes snapped to her. ‘You joke about it?’