Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

I really need to stop getting into situations like this.

Callum lifted his head as the curtain to the urgent care clinic room opened, and Liddy stepped out. He'd brought her directly here after she'd passed out, but by then, she'd been rousing back to consciousness.

She was embarrassed, but the doctor reassured him she was fine. Fainting was a rare but potential side effect from eating a pepper with the spice level she'd swallowed.

The doctor was steps behind her. He stopped beside Callum, then dropped his voice and whispered in Spanish, "Warn her that it . . . well, you know, what goes in must come out. Could bother her a bit."

Callum kept his expression blank, his eyes flicking to Liddy. They'd gotten closer over the last day, but she might never look him in the face again if he told her that.

As they left the clinic, Callum held her arm and guided her outside. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Liddy said, a trace of humor in her face as she avoided his gaze. "This trip has been a nightmare."

He tried to hold back a laugh. "To be fair, you swallowed the damn pepper. Why not spit it out next time?"

A wan smile crossed her tired face as she lowered her sunglasses over her eyes. "I always swallow."

He almost stopped dead in his tracks, but she kept walking toward the car without looking back.

She's . . . something else.

And he was into it.

I like this woman.

He wasn't sure how they'd gone from polite, professional discussion to sexual innuendo so quickly, but he appreciated this side of her. And not just because she was sexy as hell.

She made him feel.

With each moment he was around her, it was as though his heart was thawing in the tropical sun, intoxicatingly and alarmingly.

He helped her into the car, and she muttered a thank you, then he paid the parking attendant and went around to the driver's side. "You all right?" he asked as he sat. She'd leaned her seat back and rested with her forearm covering her eyes.

"I feel like an idiot, but I'm also exhausted. What time is it in London again?"

"Nine at night." They'd lost a couple of hours waiting in the clinic for her to be seen, but Callum had insisted they stay there. Her fainting had concerned him.

"No wonder. And when is this thing that Sergio's supposed to be going to?"

"Not sure." Callum started the car. "He just said it was late. But we should probably go to the church. See what we can find out about any events scheduled for this evening. It's Saturday, so I'm thinking it might be a wedding."

"Don't Catholics have Mass on Saturday nights?"

"Yeah, but . . ." Dread filled the pit of his stomach.

She's right.

Catholics did have Mass on Saturday evenings. And he didn't know for sure what time the event Sergio had been invited to was. What had he said? That it was "late?" What did late mean, though? The term was relative.

He typed the address for the church into his Maps app and then left the parking lot for the clinic in a hurry, worry clawing at him. What if he'd completely misinterpreted?

Whatever his fears were, he didn't want to pass them along to Liddy, who had said nothing more. His leg was hurting from driving so much, and he was hungry, but at least he hadn't passed out from eating a pepper.

But all of it would be for nothing if they didn't find Sergio.

They found the church, and Callum pulled into a space at the park across the street. The two enormous front doors to the church were open, the sanctuary visible from the park, but threatening afternoon clouds were taking shape. The weather in the rainy season here, especially in the mountainous valley near San Jose, was predictable—morning sun, afternoon rain. Cool evenings.

As a kid, his friends from school had all talked about how lucky he was that he got to go to paradise in the summer. Little did they know that most of the time it meant being stuck inside playing board games with his sister every afternoon. Or worse yet, visiting relatives with his mum and listening in bored silence as his mum and her cousins or aunts and uncles had coffee.

Boredom was why he'd started playing football. Even in the rain, you could usually find someone willing to play.

Liddy moved more slowly than he liked, but he said nothing as they crossed the street toward the church. She blinked up at the sky. "Is it supposed to rain?"

"It rains almost every afternoon here in the summer. It's their ‘winter.'"

"Did Elle and Quinn know that when they booked the wedding for June?" Liddy asked, a baffled expression on her face.

"Probably not. But Quinn didn't tell me much about what he was thinking until after they had booked the wedding." He led the way into the church and glanced around. In terms of size, it may as well have been a cathedral, with high vaulted ceilings and enormous windows all along each side. Statues and paintings depicted saints and Jesus and Mary, and candles were lit in offering in front of some statues.

He hadn't been in a church like this for a while, but it took him back to his childhood, the twang of guitars playing during the Mass, the pews so packed that people stood in the aisles.

Callum shook off the memory. Few people were in the church now. Some older women knelt in prayer near the front, but that was it.

"Should we sit and wait?" Liddy asked. "We could hide out near the back here so he doesn't see us."

Callum nodded. "Why don't you sit there for now? I'll see if I can find the priest and ask about any events scheduled for today."

She looked relieved at the suggestion. "Sounds good."

He left her in the back of the church and then crept up the side aisle, his footsteps loud in his ears. They'd hedged so much on this one chance. But what if nothing comes from it? He couldn't pull a magic trick out of his hat. That he'd overheard anything in the first place had been an astronomical coincidence. And even if they found Sergio, it's not as if he'd have the dress with him. It would be a miracle if they could even get him to tell them what he had done with the dress.

His shoulders bunched with tension as he walked behind the sanctuary.

He didn't see anyone.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to take a glance. Isla was calling.

He picked up, taking a subconscious step closer to a wall. "Hello?"

"Don't hello me, Cal. You've been impossible to get in touch with, and Mum is completely freaking out about the fact that you showed up with a girlfriend —which, by the way, when were you going to tell me about her? How serious is this? Mum said something about Quinn's fiancée's sister. The one you work with. I didn't even know you got on with her. What is going on?"

Callum smiled. His sister was always one to leap to conclusions, but a conversation with her usually was about ten percent him talking to ninety percent listening. He checked his phone log. "I don't see any missed calls or texts from you."

"Well, check WhatsApp. That's what I was using."

Right. He'd forgotten to check it.

He had a string of missed messages from her.

"Look, it's not the best time to talk."

"You're not in the middle of sex, are you? Oh God, if she's giving you head while we're talking, I might?—"

"No. I'm in church." Which made her comments even more appalling. The visual she'd conjured wasn't what he needed to be thinking about either. He glanced back at the sanctuary, slightly worried that a lightning bolt might still strike him.

"In church? That's a terrible place to have sex."

He choked out a laugh. "Mum would kill you if she heard you."

"Fortunately for me, I know you won't tell her. Why are you in church?"

"Long story, little island . But I'll call you later. But yes, she's the one I work with, but she's not really my girlfriend. In fact, if you'd asked her twenty-four hours ago, she probably would have told you I hated her. I don't have time to get into it now, though."

"That's a terrible cliffhanger to leave me on, Cal. You'd better call me soon."

Callum hung up, his head spinning slightly. Talking to Isla always had that effect. She was effervescent and warm, outgoing and fun—totally his opposite.

A priest was in the sacristy, and he lifted his head sharply as Callum approached. "Buenas."

"Buenas," Callum responded. "Estoy tratando de averiguar si hay una boda aquí hoy en la noche." I'm trying to find out if there's a wedding here tonight.

The priest frowned and shook his head. "No, not tonight," he answered in Spanish.

The tightly corded muscles in Callum's shoulders seemed to swell. He continued in Spanish, "Oh, I thought there was. No, um—baptisms? First communions?"

"I did a baptism about an hour ago, but that's it," the priest said, then gave him a curious look. "Why?"

Callum scrambled for a reason. "I'm supposed to meet a friend here to. . . take some pictures. I wanted to make sure we wouldn't be in the way, that's all. Thank you."

He left just as quickly as he'd come, defeat burning acid in his throat.

A baptism.

Was that what Sergio had been invited to?

If so, they had missed it—and him. While Liddy had been in the clinic.

Shite. She's going to be so upset. With herself or with me.

Either way, it's not good.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked toward her. She didn't deserve this. Even if she'd made a mistake by trusting Sergio, she was clearly a wonderful sister, and had been doing everything she could to make it up to Elle since then. All without credit, too, because Elle wouldn't ever know the trouble she'd gone to for her.

I never should have bribed her.

She lifted her head, hope in her eyes as he approached, and the acid burning in him brimmed.

I don't want to let her down.

Which, in itself, is such a foreign feeling.

This is Lydia Winnick—one of my staff.

He stopped where she was sitting and set his hand on the back of the pew in front of her. Releasing a slow breath, he raised his chin.

"There's no wedding. Apparently, there was a baptism a bit ago, but it's obviously over."

Liddy's face fell. She rose from her seat, her eyes misting, and then nodded. "Thanks for trying."

Then she slipped past him and hurried out of the church.

Callum's hands balled into fists.

And that was that.

Any hope of getting the dress back was gone, and even though she had to help him for the rest of the trip, she still had to tell Elle the dress was lost. As time went on, she'd probably hate him for putting her in that position, and then any tenuous truce they'd made would be over.

Not that I blame her.

Callum turned and looked over his shoulder back toward the altar. On the ceiling above, a lamb holding a cross with a flag was painted into a dome.

He closed his eyes for a second, his jaw clenched. Please.

Shaking his head, he almost laughed at himself. Why does this even matter to me?

He turned to go, and his foot slid back on a paper on the floor. Bending down to pick it up, he scanned it. Not just a paper, an invitation.

An invitation for a baptism.

Callum's heart rate ticked up a notch as he scanned the invitation.

Outside, the wind was stirring, and he waited as cars and buses crossed the street, scanning the park for Liddy.

She was by the car, arms crossed, defeat written on her face.

Crossing the street, he hurried toward her. She wrinkled her nose as he got closer. "Why do you look happy?"

"Because." He lifted the invitation. "Because I not only have the name of the people who were having the baptism, I know where they're holding a party for it. At the church salon, a couple of blocks from here."

Liddy scanned his face, light filling her eyes. A smattering of rain didn't seem to dampen her joy, and she stepped closer to him. "Are you saying there's a chance we still might find him?"

He nodded. "But we should go over there right away."

Liddy squealed, then threw her arms around his neck.

She probably had only intended it to be a quick, celebratory embrace, but as her body collided with his, his arm curled around her waist, and he hugged her back.

The rain started in earnest then, but neither of them let go. Liddy's face tucked in against his neck, the soft butterfly touch of her lips grazing his collarbone.

Callum closed his eyes, nestling his cheek against the top of her head. Her hair smelled like coconut shampoo, and her body curved against his perfectly. His heart pounded, his pulse in his ears as he ignored the raindrops that wet the back of his shirt, collecting in his hair.

Holding her feels . . . right.

But she pulled away. "We should probably get out of the rain," she said with a sheepish smile.

He nodded and unlocked the door. She slipped inside and into the car, and he paused as he closed her door, raising his face to the sky as the rain trickled down his face. Between Isla's mention of giving head and having Liddy's arms around him, he needed a cold shower.

But this isn't quite what I meant.