“Well, at least I’d get a good view from my window,” she said, trying for teasing.

He pulled his arm out of her grasp and walked away.

Brynn picked up the sandwich and took a mechanical bite even as her eyes stared unseeingly straight ahead at the dopey sailboat artwork. She’d been through a gamut of emotions over the past few months, but this was the first time that she felt good and truly ashamed.

She’d put endless energy into making sure she only saw Will as a callous womanizer with no care beyond bra cup size.

But it was Brynn who was the real user in this entire thing.

She’d been treating him like a glorified booty call. The sandwich turned sour in her stomach as she thought of all the times she could have asked him something about himself. Anything about himself.

But she’d been too busy looking for her next lay, worrying about her life, and getting riled up every time he wasn’t at her every beck and call.

She thought he’d wanted it that way, just as she had.

Obviously she’d been wrong.

“You ready?” he asked, coming out of the bedroom wearing faded jeans and a pullover fleece instead of the shorts and T-shirt of before. “You should grab a sweater or something. It’s colder along the water.”

Brynn hadn’t even eaten half of her sandwich, and he hadn’t eaten any of his, but neither of them seemed to care. Brynn dug in her suitcase for a sweatshirt, eager to join him before he changed his mind and went on a walk without her. Or worse, before he turned around and headed back home to find someone who cared about his work life. Or any part of his life.

They walked in silence down the long winding staircase toward the beach. The rain had died down to a faint mist, but the wind had picked up, whipping around them, carrying away the words they weren’t saying.

Will leaned down to take his shoes off, and Brynn did the same, despite the fact that the wind was cold, and the wet sand would be even colder.

It was colder, but it was also delicious, and Brynn curled her toes into the damp, chilly sand and took in a deep breath.

“I’m surprised you’re not freaking out about hypothermia, or bugs, or stepping on glass.”

Brynn gazed out at the gray, whipping ocean that was so comforting in its intense monotony. Routine could be powerful. But it didn’t have to be dull. She would do well to remember that when she went back to her real life. “I’m not afraid of anything right now.”

Will silently extended a hand toward her, and she took it. He twined his fingers with hers in a way she usually associated with romance and sweetness.

Not Will’s usual cup of tea. But perhaps he’d changed.

Or perhaps she’d been blind.

They walked hand in hand down the deserted beach, far enough to the water that the sand grew firm beneath their feet, but not close enough so that the frigid Pacific waters nipped at their toes. Brynn didn’t know how long they walked, silently, hand in hand.

And it was the calmest she’d felt in weeks. Maybe months. Hell, it was the most at peace she’d felt in years, and she was experiencing it with the person she’d always associated with chaos and crassness.

She almost found herself wanting to confide in him. To explain that she didn’t mean to be so damn focused on doing everything right, but that she was afraid that if she stopped trying, she would be an outcast.

She waited for the usual sense of justification that came from recalling the miserable childhood memories.

Waited to feel the usual sense of recommitment to making sure she never gave anyone anything to criticize.

However, this time, the memories felt stale…like maybe it was time to let them go…

But she couldn’t. Not yet. Those memories had shaped her. Without them…

She didn’t even know what she’d be. Whom she’d be.

Eventually they came across a more populated part of the beach where a rowdy group appeared to be attempting a clambake, even though the weather wasn’t cooperating.

In silent agreement, they turned around and began heading back toward the house. By the time they made it back to their shoes it had started to rain, and between the gritty sand and the continual drizzle, Brynn had a heck of a time trying to put her impractical ballet flats back on.

“Fuck it,” Will finally muttered. He grabbed her shoes from her hands and thrust them at her before scooping her up against his chest, one arm hooked beneath her knees in the classic Rhett Butler style.

“Why, William Thatcher, I didn’t know you had these kinds of moves,” she said, trying for coy and failing miserably.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

It was a blatant reminder of their disastrous conversation from earlier, and Brynn’s smile slipped. But Will was apparently ready to forgive and forget, because instead of lapsing into a male sulk, he stamped a hard kiss on her mouth.

Brynn knew what he was offering—forgiveness—and she grasped at it eagerly, hooking a hand behind his neck and keeping his cool lips locked against hers as she slipped her tongue into his mouth and took the kiss deeper.

Their tongues waged a hot, wet war as they kissed as furiously as they’d ever argued. Their teeth bumped, and his stubble burned her chin, but she didn’t let go, not until they were both gasping for air and bursting for more.

Will pulled back with a muttered oath, and he began taking the steps two at a time. She squirmed to be put down when they reached the back door, but he held her still, somehow managing to open the sliding door with his elbow and hip. Will headed immediately for the bedroom, and every part of Brynn throbbed in anticipation.

He gently set her on her feet in the bathroom, and she reached eagerly for the hem of his fleece. Will stilled her hands.

“You can shower here. I’ll use the second shower.”

He didn’t meet her eyes as he left the bathroom, and Brynn stood there for several seconds, before she realized she was frigid, and the sand was starting to make her feet itch. Numbly, she stripped, leaving her clothes in a messy pile as she stepped into the open-styled stone shower.

She stood there for long minutes, letting the hot water rush over her, even as she wished it was Will’s deft, capable hands doing the warming.

What was the point of a weekend getaway with sexy lingerie if a guy turned down a prime opportunity for shower sex? And she knew his preferences by now. Will loved shower sex. Loved when she sank to her knees and took him in her mouth…

Brynn let out a frustrated groan as she shut the water off and snatched one of the fluffy blue towels.

She took her sweet time drying her hair, not only to ward off the chill, but to try and gather her thoughts. What the hell was going on here? They’d been angry, they’d been frustrated, and they’d been hot for each other, but they’d never been this. She’d never felt uneasy around him.

And he’d never been wary.

She sensed they were circling something that was both precious and fragile, but damn if she knew what it was.

Pulling on a pair of wrinkled pink-and-white PJ pants and a fuzzy white sweater, she wandered out into the main living area. She was pretty sure she’d seen wine in his arsenal of supplies. Perhaps that would help.

Brynn froze at the scene in front of her.

He must have been a Boy Scout after all, because the fire was huge and crackling. The scene in front of the fire was even more intriguing. Wine. A cheese plate. And a thick, soft-looking blanket that practically advertised writhe on me.

But it wasn’t any of that that made her breath catch.

It was Will, blond hair darker than usual for being wet as it fell across his forehead. Like her, he was clad in PJ pants, but unlike her he’d forgone the shirt, as though he knew that his abs were her Achilles’ heel.

And then she saw his eyes, and her heart dropped an entire foot to her stomach.

He’s scared.

Brynn moved slowly toward him, stopping when they were scant inches away, but not touching. Wordlessly, she reached for his hand. Put it against her cheek. I’m scared too.

His eyes closed and he let out a shuddering breath. When they opened again, they were more like the Will she’d come to know, although there was still something odd about his expression. Something she didn’t know how to read.