34. Dex

Chapter thirty-four

Dex

B ritta's got white paint on her cheek, more of it on her clothes and in her hair, and she looks exhausted. Oh, and she's got two giants standing behind her, their arms crossed, shooting daggers at me from the same blue eyes Britta has, but angrier. So much angrier.

Her brothers .

I realize I should've brought Archie for backup. He would have run at the first sight of them, but I'm faster than him, which means they would've got him first. But now I'm in the direct line of fire with no escape.

Except Britt throws her arms around me and says, "You're home," with so much relief in her voice—and in the kiss that follows—I forget for a second that I was fearing for my life. Then I glimpse her brothers and reality hits me again.

I reckon she is happy to see me, but she's also got to put on a show for… whichever brothers these two are. Then I worry where the missing brother is—lying in wait for a surprise attack? I wouldn't blame him. Because the other thing that's clear, as I take in the changes to the shop, is that I left Britta alone when she needed help. Not that I'm all that handy with a hammer, but I should have been here, and I didn't even consider it.

I pull away from her and drop my arms to my side. "When you weren't home, I figured you might be here. I was worried you'd be alone."

My eyes dart to the long-haired brother—Adam, he's the one with the man-bun—but quickly retreat at the searing glare he's got trained on me.

"She wasn't alone. We came down from Idaho to help," the other brother with the bushy beard—Bear, that's his name; because he's as big as one—says in a deep voice, and I can't tell if he means to scare me with the tone of his voice or if he's just stating a fact.

"So, the place is yours, then?" I ask Britta, which is a stupid question. Of course it is. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to help. I shouldn't have gone."

"All mine." Britta smiles and turns in a slow circle with her arms out. "If I'd known how much work I was in for, I would have told you to stay. Luckily, Adam and Bear showed up to save the day."

"Yeah… that's incredible." If she meant to make me feel better, it doesn't work. Not with her brothers staring at me like I'm the biggest doofus this side of Joe Rogan.

They're not wrong. That's the worst part. I've got no defense for leaving, other than I was trying not to fall in love with your sister, who happens to be my wife. I get the feeling they're already suspicious about mine and Britta's relationship, so anything I say is likely to muck things up even worse.

But I try anyway. "What can I help with?"

Britta shakes her head. "We're done with the big stuff, and I'm too tired to do anything else tonight. Adam and Bear leave early tomorrow, so I say we head home and get some rest."

She slips her arm around mine, and it feels so natural, I take her hand like her brothers aren't even there. I wish it was real.

"You sure there's nothing I can do?" I ask as she reaches for the light switch.

"Bear, grab the lights in the back, will you?" she says before turning to me, the dim light only making her glow more. "You can help me clean all this up tomorrow."

I scan the room, taking in paint cans, rollers and brushes. Canvas tarps cover the floor and dust covers everything else. So, I haven't missed my opportunity to help. There's still heaps of work.

"And help me think of a name." Britta squeezes my hand and bounces on her toes. "It can't stay Annie's without her here."

"End of an era." Even though it's still a construction zone in here, I see the changes Britta's already made. Fresh paint, new tables and chairs, different counter set up. Still Annie's, but with an update.

"Why not Britta's ?" I ask as we walk hand-in-hand to the door.

"I thought about it, but it doesn't feel quite right. Breakfast at Britta's was always my great-grandma Britta's, even after Mom and then I took over. I think I want something that's all me." Britta lets go of my hand to lock the door, then takes it again. "I'll ride with you, if that's okay."

She waves to her brothers before I can answer. Doesn't matter. I'm keen to have some time alone with her without her bodyguards.

But our ten minutes alone as we drive back to the house isn't what I hoped. Not because of Britta. She's got heaps of questions about my trip that I try to answer, but my mind's on her brothers who looked ready to murder me and what Archie said back at the resort about my needing to be more aware of what Britta's sacrificed for me and how I shouldn't forget that. His words ring even truer now that I've seen all the work Britta did in her coffee shop without me there.

What if her brothers hadn't shown up? What if the waves in the Azores had been really stellar? I would have stayed longer, leaving Britta totally alone with a mountain of work to do in a place where she hardly knows anyone.

I knew she'd be getting the keys to Annie's while I was gone. I should have canceled the trip. But I didn't think twice about what my being gone would mean for Britta. My only concern was surfing. My only concern is surfing. Always has been. I've lived my whole life around it, and everyone close to me has lived their life in a way that makes it possible for me to surf.

That's not right. Especially in a marriage.

But I also can't change it if I'm going to stay competitive and make the Olympic team. Surfing has to stay my focus, as much for Britta as for me, otherwise she's sacrificed for nothing. I've got nothing else to contribute to this relationship other than the one thing I know how to do.

That's all I think about as we drive home in silence. By the time I pull into the garage, all I want to do is climb into bed. I'm knackered from traveling. I feel like a complete whacker, and I really don't want to socialize with Britta's brothers.

Adam and Bear haven't arrived yet, so I tell Britta goodnight and head up the stairs to my room. I only get halfway when Britta calls from the bottom.

"Dex! You'll have to stay in my room tonight."

I turn and blink.

"My brothers are staying here." Her cheeks turn pink, and that's all the explanation I need.

I nod. "Got it. I'll see you in a bit then."

After a quick shower, I go into Britta's room. I don't know when she did it, but she's already moved some of my things there. Probably before her brothers got here to make it look like this is a proper marriage.

But, maybe because of what I said before I left, about wanting to be more than a fake couple. Maybe her kiss that day was a yes, not a maybe.

Now, how do I tell her never mind?

I could sleep on the couch in the sitting area, except it's small and covered with Britta's folded clothes. Her brothers must have brought more than themselves and their tools when they showed up because boxes labeled Britta are stacked around the couch. They must have brought some things from home for her, which are now serving as a subtle reminder to me she hadn't planned on staying more than six weeks before I proposed the marriage that I promised would be strictly business.

The easiest thing to do tonight would be to fall asleep before she gets into bed and avoid any temptation to act on our feelings for each other. But as tired as I am, that's not what happens. I'm still wide awake, lying on top of the bed, wearing more clothes than I've slept in since my mum quit putting me in pyjamas, when Britta tiptoes in.

She goes straight for the bathroom, and for the next twenty minutes I listen to the buzzing of her electric toothbrush, then running water. Light peeks from under the door, and when the toothbrush, then the water stops, I hear her bare feet pad over the tile floor. Hard as I try, I can't stop myself picturing Britta changing for bed and wondering what she'll put on.

I hope it's something easy for me to say no to. Thick, flannel pyjamas under a floor-length robe. A retainer or other orthodontia. One of those green face mask things women put on in the movies might do the trick.

The door opens and muffled footsteps follow as Britta makes her way across the plush carpet to the bed. Steam from the bathroom follows her, making the room more humid than the air outside.

"You still awake, Dex?" Britta whispers as she climbs under the duvet.

I should fake sleep.

I don't.

"Yeah."

"Can we talk for a minute?" Her voice ripples through the surrounding air, and I couldn't say no even if I'd really wanted to.

"Reckon we can talk as long as I can keep my eyes open." I turn to face her, propping my head in my hand. "What's on your mind?"

"I'm wondering what's on yours. We didn't really finish talking before you left, and we didn't talk at all while you were gone." Britta flips on her side, peering at me through the dark.

I can't see what she's got on below her waist but she's wearing a jumper on top, and I should be relieved, not disappointed, about that. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize reception would be so shoddy."

She nods slowly, like she wants to believe me, but doesn't quite. "I guess I'm wondering if you still want to make this… our relationship… more than a business deal." Britta's words are careful. "I'm asking…" she continues. "Because—and maybe you're just tired and I'm jumping to conclusions—it seems like something's changed. But I need to know where I stand and what to expect, because when you came home today… I was really happy. Happier than I've been in a long time."

I'm surprised by her directness. Britta is good at saying what's on her mind, but not with feelings. Those she keeps tucked away like a Christmas present bought in July.

If she'd been less direct, maybe I could think of something to say besides the truth, but I can't. She deserves my honesty.

I roll to my back, then scoot close enough to slip my arm around her and pull her to my chest. "My feelings for you haven't changed Britta. The first few days in the Azores, all I wanted was to be back here with you. I couldn't think about anything but you."

Britta snuggles closer, resting her duvet-covered leg on mine. "I missed you, too." Her arm comes from under the covers to cross my chest, and I can hardly breathe I want her so much.

But I can't risk ruining our arrangement. I'm even more sure of that now than I was after Archie pointed out all the sacrifices Britta has made for me, and all that she could lose because of me. As if the fact I didn't see it for myself would be enough evidence that I'm not ready to be a real husband to Britta, but then I come home to find her brothers here to help her with what I'd left her alone to do.

"But…" Britta says.

"But what?"

"You're not saying everything. You couldn't think about anything other than me, but …" Britta tips her head to peer at me, and her hair brushes my jaw. It's damp and silky, and she smells fresh and clean. There's a scent of lemon and vanilla, and I'm not sure if it's from her lotion or shampoo.

I hug her closer and kiss the top of her head. "Britta, there's nothing I want more than to be with you, which is exactly why I can't be."

Britta pulls away and sits up to stare at me. In the dim light, I feel more than see her eyes drill into me, and I try not to squirm. There's more to say, but the way she's studying me makes me keep my mouth shut.

"Because I'm a distraction?" she says finally.

I shake my head. "You're not the problem. I am. If I can't stay focused, I won't make the Olympic team, and then you will have married me for nothing."

Her lip tugs. "I got my coffee shop out of the deal, and I can help you stay focused. You said I'm the reason you won the Finals."

She drops back to my chest with her chin resting on her hands.

I can't stop my hand from resting on her lower back or my thumb from dragging along the top of her pyjama pants. "No. You got a loan from me to buy it. A loan you insist on paying back."

"That's only fair, Dex. Two hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money."

"Being married for three years to a guy who only knows how to do one thing—surf—is a long time."

Britta lifts her shoulders in a slow shrug. "Unless we decide three years isn't long enough."

Britta tips her chin, and my breath catches. I could kiss her right now. We could take a chance that we could last longer than three years. Maybe even forever.

But that would be selfish on my part.

"Britt, I was focused at the Finals because you were there. But being halfway across the world from you messed everything up. I wanted to be with you instead of on the wave."

"Did you ache for me?" she whispers.

"Ache?" That's a good way to put it. "I ached from wiping out a dozen times in a row because I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Britta slides her hands from under her chin and wraps her arms around my chest. Her cheek is warm against my sternum. "You're not doing a great job convincing me we shouldn't try being a real married couple."

I scoff. "I left you when you needed me here. My self-interest overpowered any worries I had that you'd be alone. Worse, I didn't even consider the fact you might need help with Annie's. All I cared about was my dream, not yours."

"You offered to cancel the trip. I told you not to."

"I could have canceled it weeks before, but I knew I was falling for you, and I wanted to run from those feelings."

"You didn't run fast enough," she says, and I let out a small laugh, because she's deadset right. "I can hear your heartbeat."

"You mean pound?"

"Yeah. Why is it pounding?"

"Because I'm trying to tell you I don't have it in me to be the husband you deserve." I wrap both arms around her back. "And it's killing me."

"I don't think that's true, Dex." Her breath skitters across my chest.

"Trust me, Britt, I've never done anything this hard."

She shakes her head, rubbing her cheek and chin against my too-thick jumper. I wish I could feel her skin against my bare chest. "That's not what I meant. I think if it's killing you to tell me we can't be together, then you're probably exactly the kind of husband I need… you're just not ready to be right now."

I don't know if she hears my heart stop, but it definitely does. I wanted her to understand, but I didn't think it'd be so painful.

"That's what you're trying to tell me, right?" She pushes herself up until she's sitting cross-legged next to me. "Our focus can't be on each other. It has to be on the reasons we got married in the first place—so you can get to the Olympics, and I can start over here with my store."

I hate that we're not touching anymore, but the distance makes it easier to say what I have to. "I'm going to be gone for weeks at a time on the Championship Tour—maybe months, if things go right. You can't go with me. You've got An— " I catch myself. "Your soon-to-be-named coffeeshop and all the employees counting on it to succeed."

Britta nods, then raises her eyes to meet mine. Even in the dark, the intensity of her blue irises bores straight through me. "Falling in love would distract us from what's really important."

I wince at the way she's said it, even though she's mostly right. "Not from what's really, really important, but from what has to be really important for the next few years."

"So we have to stop ourselves from growing anymore attached." Britta uncrosses her legs and pulls her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "How do you think we should do that?"

"We follow the rules you already made," I say firmly, now that we're on the same page at the same time.

"Hmm."

"What?" I peer at Britta. There's too much hesitation in her hum.

"I kind of hate myself for making so many rules. I mean, we're already breaking the not sleeping in the same bed one, and we'll have to break it every time someone visits who thinks we're really married."

She's got a good point. Plus, her bed is more comfortable than mine, and not just because she's in it.

Fine. It's mostly that.

I sit up against the headboard, careful not to touch her. "We're adults. We can set our own boundaries together. We're both aware we have to prioritize our careers right now, so anything that could jeopardize our focus is off limits."

"So we definitely keep the no sex rule. Too much emotional attachment for me if we don't follow that one."

"Agreed." Reluctantly.

"Ditto with kissing."

"Okay." I officially hate Britta's rules now, too. "No touching?" I say hesitantly.

I'm relieved when Britta shakes her head. "Way too hard." Then she bites her lip, and I worry about what may come next. "Do you think we could handle hugging? Maybe even cuddling? I mean, just as friends, obviously, but I come from an affectionate family. We're always hugging—except for Adam—and I miss it. I need it, Dex, especially when I'm so far from everyone I know."

I open my arms, because I've found one sacrifice I can make for Britta, no matter that I'll be taking the very real risk of falling even harder for her. "Hugging and cuddling definitely is a must."