12. Conrad

CHAPTER 12

CONRAD

M orning came with more bad news: we weren't getting out by plane. Not today, anyway, or for a few days. Something to do with radar systems, air traffic control.

"It's a safety issue," said Joe, when I tried to push him. "They aren't budging. I could send a boat for you, but…"

"But what?"

We'd come under fire on socials, Joe explained, for me taking my private jet to go on vacation. For wasting jet fuel while people recycled their bathwater.

"Do people actually do that?"

He assured me they did, and that they'd be watching, and it wouldn't look great if I ducked out by boat. Especially while ordinary travelers stayed stranded for days. If I wanted to save face, I'd stay stranded too. Maybe fly some folks out with me once the airport was back. Then I'd be a hero instead of a spendthrift. Instead of some jackass polluting for fun.

"All right," I sighed. "I guess I can stay here. An extra day or two in paradise, I can think of worse fates."

I knew Claire would be pissed when she heard what was happening, so I called down for coffee before she could wake. I got pastries as well, and a platter of fruit, and the sight of it on waking piqued Claire's suspicion.

"What's with the feast? Don't tell me we're still stuck."

"Drink this," I said, and thrust the coffee at her. I waited till she'd tried it before I launched in. "So, remember last night, before work interrupted? How we were talking about our time here?"

Claire's eyes went narrow, but she sipped more and nodded.

"Well, I was thinking, since we've got this time, why don't we make the most of it? Do some exploring? The resort's got some guides in to take us on nature hikes, and I thought we could join one. Like we're on vacation."

"On vacation…" Claire's tone hadn't mellowed, but I thought I picked up the hint of a smile. The tiniest tug at her tight-pressed lips.

"Come on." I clasped my hands over hers, over her coffee. "Stolen time, remember? We can be just us for once, just Conrad and Claire. Not Constel, not Timeless, just us on vacation. We'll have a picnic. Go swimming. When did you last do that?"

I knew I had her. Her eyes had gone hazy. She sipped more coffee, then smiled. "I'll need half an hour to deal with some work stuff. But after that, yeah. They'll last one day without me."

An hour after that, we were in wide-brimmed sun hats, trekking up a wide, well-walked nature trail. I'd expected a big group, but it was us and two families. I was pleased to see Jake, the lost kid from the storm, had found friends to play with, a brother and sister. The kids ran ahead of us, then they ran back, calling out every marvel they found on the path.

"There's a butterfly! No, two! There's three!"

"I found a bird's nest!"

"I see the bird!"

I glanced over at Claire and saw she was smiling, watching the kids explore up ahead. The trail was easy walking, carved out for beginners, and that was fine with me. Just on my own, I'd have wanted a challenge, a rock wall to climb, a steep ridge or two. But out here with Claire and the kids and their families, I was content to enjoy the scenery and the sun on my back. The forest was beautiful, green and sun-dappled, glimpses of azure ocean between the trees. I took a few pictures, and Claire did as well, and she texted one to somebody who sent her back hearts. My own heart did a stutter-step, and I felt my throat tighten.

"Who's that?" I asked, harsher than I'd intended.

Claire tucked her phone away. "Hm?"

"Who were you texting?"

"Sunny. I've mentioned her. What, are you jealous?"

I opened my mouth to deny it, then stopped myself. The truth was, I had been, thinking she had a man. And I hadn't only felt jealous, but angry, betrayed — where did she get off kissing me with some beau waiting at home? I checked on the kids and their parents to make sure none were in earshot, then I lowered my voice.

"What if I was?"

Claire shot me a side-eye. "Well, officially , I'd be offended. Jealousy's for children squabbling over some toy. I'm not a toy. I'm not yours to play with."

"And unofficially?"

Her lips turned up in a slow, wicked smile. "Unofficially, I'd be flattered. And kind of impressed. Who knew Conrad Farley was such a caveman?"

I thumped on my chest. "Grog claim little woman!"

She swatted me off her, but she was laughing. "All right, Grog. I'm yours for today."

Those words, I'm yours , sent a bolt shooting through me. If we hadn't been surrounded by families and children, I'd have grabbed her and kissed her and had her right there. I contented myself with leaning close as I dared, growling mine in her ear and watching her shiver.

Soon, we emerged on a long, sheltered beach. This place had been spared the worst of the storm, and the kids charged ahead across pristine white sand.

"Don't go too far," called one of the moms.

The kids ran into the shallows where they kicked water at each other, shrieking and giggling. Claire shaded her eyes to watch them, laughing as well. I shook out our blanket and set out our hamper, with the picnic I'd packed for us before we struck out. The families laid their blankets farther up the beach, giving us some privacy. I was grateful for that. The kids were cute and all, but they'd for sure start a food fight. I wanted this time with Claire, without crumbs in our hair.

She came over and joined me as I laid out our lunch, nothing too fancy, as I hadn't known how easy the trail would be. I'd packed neat little sandwiches and crackers and dips, hummus and caviar, pepper cheese, roasted garlic. We had sparkling cider and tarts for dessert, and even some chocolates I'd sneaked from the restaurant.

"Looks delicious," said Claire, and reached for a butter tart. I smacked her hand, teasing.

"Jumping straight to dessert?"

"I'm on vacation!" Claire pouted, but she took a sandwich instead. She took a bite, licked her lips, and sighed with pleasure. "I don't know if it's the exercise or all the fresh air, but this is the best ham and cheese sandwich I've ever had."

I took one of my own and tried a bite. It tasted delicious, the flavors rich on my tongue. "I think there's capers," I said.

"I didn't think I liked capers. Maybe I'm confusing them with something else."

I poured her some cider, then some for myself. We sat in the shade, watching the kids have their food fight. They were just tossing grapes for now, while their folks weren't looking, but I guessed it would escalate as lunchtime wore on. Claire turned away from them as a stray grape bounced our way, and turned her attention to the white surf instead.

"I don't think I've done this since I was a kid."

"What, gone to the beach?"

"Just sat and looked at it. At nature in general." She flipped the brim of her hat up to get a better view. "It's so gorgeous here. Like a scene from a postcard. I always thought those were Photoshopped, with the perfect blue skies. I didn't think anywhere looked quite like this."

I hummed my agreement. I'd thought the same thing. I'd likely spent more time outdoors than Claire had, adventure hiking trips for business partners, fishing and hunting, whatever it took. But I'd mostly been focused on work on those trips, not on enjoying them or enjoying nature.

"Even the bugs here are pretty." I brushed one off my leg, a jewel-colored green thing with a hard, glossy shell. Claire flicked it off our blanket.

"Pretty, maybe, but I'd rather not eat it."

"I'm sure it agrees with that."

We both chuckled. Claire stretched out her legs, smooth, sleek, and freckled. I hadn't known she had freckles even there. I'd never seen her bare-legged, without stockings or hose. Now, she was in shorts and a long linen beach shirt, the long, flowing draped kind to keep off the sun. When she was standing, it hung to her knees, but now she was sitting, it had pooled in her lap. I resisted the impulse to reach out and touch her. To run a cheeky fingertip from her knee to her thigh.

"Okay, enough of that! No throwing yogurt!" The kids' food fight had got out of hand. I snickered as their parents confiscated their spoons.

"Go on and play if you're done eating. Get your pails, huh? Go build a sandcastle."

The kids grabbed their pails and ran down to the shallows. Claire watched, sipping cider, as they built up their battlements.

"Their base isn't wide enough. When they build up, it'll crumble."

"Want to build a better one?" I asked. "Show them how it's done?"

She laughed. "That's mean, showing up little kids!"

We watched them build anyway, a wobbly fa?ade, and then a wave crashed in and swept it away. The kids jumped up, screaming, and ran back up the beach. Then they ran back down, chasing the wave. They kicked their ruined sandcastle and kicked at their pails, then filled them with water and threw it on each other. After a while, they bunched into a huddle, and I noticed them eyeing us over their shoulders. Claire nudged me, suspicious.

"You think they're planning a prank?"

"They're planning something . Thinking they're sneaky."

Jake broke free of the others and trotted up the beach, heading toward us. Claire flinched away.

"If he throws a fish on us…"

"I don't think he's going to." I moved in front of her anyway, just in case. Jake edged up to me, suddenly shy.

"Hey, Jake," I said.

He smiled at me. "Hi. We were wondering, uh…"

I waited, patient. Jake kicked at the sand, gathering his nerve.

"Me and my friends were wondering if we can make you a merman."

I blinked. Of all the things he could've said, I hadn't anticipated that one. "How does that work, making me a merman?"

"Well, we would bury you and make you a sand tail, and then make you a seaweed wig to be your hair."

Claire burst out laughing. I shot her a sharp look.

"Go on," she said. "You'd make a cute merman."

I scowled at her betrayal. Some help she was.

"Please, Mr. Farley? Our dads never let us."

I thought about telling him their dads were right. But Claire was watching me expectantly, and so were the kids. I shrugged, defeated. "Fine, you can bury me, but no kelp on my head."

"Not even a little bit?"

"Not even a strand."

"Deal," said Jake, and stuck out his hand. I thought he was going to shake with me, but he tugged me upright.

"You don't have to," called his dad. "Don't let them push you."

"It's fine," I called back. "As long as they promise to unbury me when they're done."

"We will," said Jake, and dragged me away. Next thing I knew, I was on my back on the beach, getting buckets of wet sand dumped on my legs.

"Did you check that for crabs?" I mimed pinchy claws.

"No, there's no crabs." Jake piled on more sand. I lay back and gave in to it, and watched them sculpt my tail, using a loose stick to draw on my scales. The little girl had gathered a bucket of shells, and she arranged them like flowing hair around my head. The boys laid out kelp as fins for my fish tail. I struggled briefly and fruitlessly when one took a picture, but I didn't protest too hard. What harm could it do? At worst, I'd get laughed at. I could live with that.

They were stringing me a necklace when I looked back at Claire, broken shell beads on a string of kelp. She smiled when our eyes met, but I thought she seemed… sad? Her eyes had a distant look, like she was half-dreaming. Wistful, maybe, was her expression. Then it was gone, and she was laughing, holding up a crown she'd made from crumpled tinfoil.

Still, never mind a penny, I'd have spent a buck for her thoughts. I'd have given about anything to know her mind in that moment. To know if her heart was torn the same way mine was, between what we might've had and what could be.