Persuaded (19 page)

Stepping
up beside Eli, Derick slammed the gallon of milk onto the counter. It pleased
him that Eli jumped, that his eyes widened in shock, as though he’d just been
caught with his pants down. The look was only there for a second before it sank
out of sight, replaced by a guarded nod of recognition.

“I’ll
call you back,” Eli said, snapping his phone shut and then facing Derick with a
polite grimace. “Hey, Derick, what’s up? Can I buy you a beer?”

“I
don’t drink,” Derick answered shortly.

Eli
gave a wry smile. “Alcoholic?”

“I
think inhibitions are there for a reason; I’m not a big fan of mine being taken
from me,” Derick answered, fixing eyes on Eli’s in what he hoped was an
intimidating glare.

“Interesting.
I guess you can’t believe everything you read in
Us Weekly
, can you?”

Derick’s
eyes narrowed. What kind of game was this loser playing? Taking a moment to
digest the comment and its implications, Derick turned his attention to the
cashier. Tossing a five dollar bill up onto the counter, he said, “Keep the
change,” then sat rigidly on the stool beside Eli. “Funny. You don’t strike me
as a fan gossip kind of guy. But then again, people aren’t always what they
seem.”

Eli’s
mouth quirked into a cocky grin and then he eyed Derick as he finished off his
beer. “Well,” Eli said with an air of finality as he stood, “this has been fun,
but some of us have work to do. I’ll catch you later, Wentworth.”

Derick
bristled at the use of his last name, at the way Eli bumped his shoulder as he
made for the door. Gritting his teeth and clenching his hands into fists,
Derick followed him outside.

“Eli?”

He
turned, impatience evident in his posture, but said nothing. That suited Derick
just fine—he’d listened to enough already.

“Hanna
may be pure and innocent, but she’s not stupid. You might want to take that
under consideration before you make your ‘move’.”

Eli’s
eyes widened infinitesimally before his face split into a grin. “And to think
she’s convinced that you don’t care,” he said virtuously. “For someone who bit
off a fairly big chunk of her heart, you’re awfully self-righteous.”

Derick
nearly lost his cool, feeling he might explode with the effort of keeping the
anger in. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said in a low voice.

“Actually
I do,” Eli continued, his eyes sparkling at Derick’s reaction. “Hanna told me
the whole story . . . how you were her first love, how you mangled her heart
without bothering to explain why, how you used her up and then cast her aside
like a pair of dirty socks . . .”

Derick’s
hands began trembling, darkness bleeding into the edges of his vision. He might
have been able to walk away if Eli hadn’t said anything else.

“Don’t
worry, Wentworth. I’ve never had a problem eating off of someone else’s spoon.”

For
someone so adept at button-pushing, Eli wasn’t gifted with much in the reflex
department. He had the good sense to look bewildered as Derick’s fist connected
with his face. The sickening crunch might not have been complete vindication,
but it was satisfying, at least. Staggering back, Eli steepled his hands over
his bleeding, and likely broken, nose. The lowlife hadn’t even seen it coming.

“You
might want to put some ice on that,” Derick told him as he took the stairs down
to the sand. “People are bound to comment.”

Eli’s
mask of façade had fallen off and shattered against the dock. Derick wouldn’t
have been at all surprised if Eli retaliated; the way his eyes flashed told
Derick that he was considering it. But then he turned and stalked away,
throwing one last angry glare over his shoulder.

“Pleasure
doing business with you,” Derick muttered, shaking out his hand as he headed
home. A stinging pain alerted him to the fact that he hadn’t come out of the
confrontation unscathed himself. An oozing gash ran across his knuckles.
Knowing it wouldn’t be pleasant, Derick set the milk down on the sand and rinsed
his hands in the ocean. The saltwater had a sharp bite, but at least he
wouldn’t return to Kelynch looking as if he’d had an accident in woodshop.
Straightening, Derick picked the milk up and continued down on the beach,
wondering how he was going to tell Hanna about Eli, and what on earth he was
going to say.

TWENTY-FOUR

INSIGHTS
and WATERFIGHTS

With Captain
Wentworth, some moments of communications continually occurring, and always the
hope of more, and always the knowledge of his being there.

—Jane Austen,
Persuasion

Hanna
drew in a breath of thick ocean air as she pressed her palms into the sand,
leaning back and looking up at the bottomless night sky. There was simply
nothing like stargazing on the beach. She’d had to walk several hundred yards
past the houses to get away from all the porch lights that blared from back
doors. Now, with her ears full of the relentless tide and its whispered
secrets, and her lungs full of heady summer air, she trained her eyes on the
stars. She could see the Milky Way clearly, could almost perceive the celestial
waltz of each star and its subjects as they danced around each other.

“Hanna?”

Startled,
she looked up and found Derick walking toward her with a jug of milk swinging
from one hand. She must have been totally engrossed not to have seen him
coming.

“What
are you doing out here all alone?” he asked.

“Stargazing.”

“Want
some company?”

She
nodded, and he sat down beside her. Now that Derick was here, she found herself
gazing at him more than the sky. During her surreptitious scrutiny, she noticed
a thin, bloody cut along the ridge of his knuckles. “Derick, you’re bleeding!
What did you do to your hand?”

Curling
said hand into a fist and then spreading it out, he shrugged. “Oh, I, uh,
snagged it on . . . something.”

Grabbing
her bag, Hanna rummaged until she came up with baby wipes and a bandage. “Let
me see,” she said, holding out her hand for his.

“What,
do you have a hospital in there?” he asked as she began gently cleaning the
blood from his skin.

“The
boys are always falling and scraping knees and elbows, and the only way to stop
the crying is a Band-Aid—whether there’s blood or not. It’s just easier this
way.”

Biting
her lip, she shut up, fully aware that she was babbling again. Why did she do
that every time Derick was around?

“Thanks,”
said Derick as she applied the bandage.

Crunching
the wrapper in her palm, she threw it in her bag. “No problem,” she said,
trying to sound casual, light, flippant. “I should probably head back before
Mary puts out an APB.” She stood, brushing sand off her clothing.

“I’ll
walk you,” Derick offered, retrieving the milk and falling into step beside
her.

☼

Derick
found himself surprised by the shift in his mood. When he left the marina he’d
been livid. But something had calmed him—the sound of the ocean? Watching the
stars? Hanna’s presence?

Together
Derick and Hanna wended their way back to the houses, walking in the shallows.
There was something fulfilling about ocean waves crashing over your toes, like
mother nature kissing your feet.

As the
tide waxed with the gathering night, Hanna listed to the left to avoid the
water. “That one got close.”

“Are
you afraid of a little water, Banana?” he teased. “It’s just the tide coming
in.”

“I’m
not afraid,” she corrected. “I just have no desire to get soaked at the
moment.”

“Come
on. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Back
in 2004 where it belongs,” she said loftily.

“Is
that right?” Derick said, a thought planting itself in his head. He hesitated for
only an instant before grabbing her by the hand and towing her farther into the
water. To his delight, she protested with a halfhearted squeal when the water
crawled up her legs. Music to his ears.

She
struggled with as much gusto as she could manage with her willowy frame. Derick
awarded her full points for earnest effort, before setting the milk down,
seizing her around the waist, and tugging her toward himself. An obliging wave
crashed into her back, sending her right into his arms, and they both went
under.

For
just an instant, Hanna’s hands were flat against Derick’s chest, and his hands
were clamped on either side of her waist. Time slowed, the earth turning back
in its rotation as they hung motionless in the water.  Then the universe
blinked, and Hanna broke the surface, coughing and sputtering. Derick braced
himself for a scolding, a dirty look, maybe even her getting angry and storming
off—so he was thoroughly surprised when she lunged and dunked him. He recovered
from his shock quick enough to stand his ground, but after what he’d done to
her, he figured that Hanna deserved some recompense. So he allowed himself to
be submerged. Now they were both battling the oncoming waves and laughing.

“See,
wasn’t that fun?” he prodded.

She
responded by sending a wall of water at his face. Apparently pleased with her
retaliation, she grinned in satisfaction before slogging out of the water.
Derick followed her to Uppercross, where she confiscated the towels draped over
the beach chairs. She tossed one to him before wrapping the other around
herself, and guilt elbowed Derick in the ribs. One thing he had come to realize
about Hanna was that she was constantly putting others first. He had allowed
himself to resent that about her for years, choosing to view it as a selfish
tendency. But now that he’d been around her and had taken the time to observe,
he understood that there wasn’t a selfish bone in her body.

As
unpleasant as the prospect was, warning her about Eli was the least he could do
to help her avoid getting hurt.

“Can I
ask you something?” he began, sitting in one of the beach chairs.

A
scowl fleeted across her face as she toweled her hair. “Sure . . .” she trailed
off.

Derick
waited a heartbeat. “How well do you know Eli?”

He
could tell from Hanna’s expression that she was completely caught off guard.
She sat in the chair opposite Derick. “Not very well. Why?”

“Do
you trust him?”

This
answer took a little longer, and the pause gave Derick hope. “As much as I
trust anyone else I’ve known for a month, I guess.”

Nodding,
Derick picked up the corner of the beach towel, rolling it between his fingers.

“Why
do you ask?” A wall had gone up in her voice, notifying Derick that he was on potentially
dangerous ground.

“Earlier
tonight I overheard him talking on his phone to a friend, or a colleague or
someone—about you.”

Hanna’s
eyebrows went up. “What did he say?”

The
curiosity in her voice grated on him. “Stuff I can’t repeat as a gentleman.”
Her face fell, and Derick hated that too.

“Are
you sure he was talking about me? Did he say my name?”

“If he
was talking about some other girl, that’s another problem altogether,” Derick
told her, then pinned her with a look. “Trust me, he was talking about you.”

Sitting
back in her chair, Hanna looked out at the ocean, her brows drawing together.
Derick could see that he was going to have to give her more to go on.

“He
basically indicated that he had ulterior motives where you’re concerned. I
won’t repeat it, but I will say that if anyone talked about my sister that
way—” He broke off, absently flexing his bandaged hand.

Hanna
noticed the motion, her eyes widening in understanding.

He
hadn’t meant to draw attention to the fact that he’d broken his skin breaking
Eli’s face, but it was too late now.

“Look,
I just get the feeling that Eli is not what he says he is. There’s more going
on below the surface. So, just be careful, is all I’m saying.”

He
could tell she was biting her cheek, mulling over his words. He wanted to make
her laugh, not put that little crease between her eyes. It seemed ages ago
they’d been laughing and playing in the water.

“I’m
sorry, Hanna.”

She
stood. “Don’t be. I appreciate you telling me.”

When
Derick stood but made no move to leave, something ghosted across her face, a
realization maybe, followed by disappointment.

“Sorry,
I didn’t even think you might be waiting for Ella. I’ll tell her you’re here.”

“No!”
Derick said a little too quickly, backing away. “I mean, don’t bother her. It’s
late and I need to get this milk to Sophie. I’ll see you later.”

Hanna
gave a distracted nod and a diminutive smile as she slid the door open and
disappeared inside.

TWENTY-FIVE

HEI
MATAU