“Go find,” she ordered. “Go find.”
Disco buried his nose in the soiled shirt, sniff-sniff-sniffing, while Rachel let him take his time to get a solid read. Disco tipped his head into the airstream left and right, then shifted his attention downward, to the ground. He worked in circles outward, farther and farther away in some sort of doggy grid system Liam couldn’t help but notice and admire.
He kept his silence, not sure what protocol she would prefer. And God, he hoped Disco could work some kind of SAR magic that located Hugh holed up somewhere taking a nap or enjoying a hefty breakfast with the woman and kid.
Except while Hugh Franco was one edgy bastard, he was always, always, one hundred percent in the mission.
Rachel followed her dog at work, watching his path with narrowed eyes. “Actually, I was engaged once,” she said softly, catching Liam off guard. “Right after graduation from high school. He proposed just before he deployed overseas. He never came back.”
“I’m sorry,” Liam said automatically, insufficiently, but sincerely.
“Me, too.” She looped the leash around and around her hand. “I had my chance, found my soul mate, and lost him. End of story.”
“So you’re determined to spend the rest of your life alone? Come on, no disrespect meant to your first love and all, but do you really believe in that soul mate crap?”
“I take it from your oh-so-sensitive answer that you’re not a believer.”
“Three failed marriages will leave a guy jaded about the lasting quality of love.”
“Three?” She simply smiled. “Because you didn’t find your soul mate.”
“Touché.” He followed her as Disco continued his grid search of the concrete. “Although that’s damn presumptuous of you to assume I didn’t fall as deeply as you did.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s not my place to speak about your feelings… for all three women you loved more than life until—”
“Fine, your point is made.” He tucked closer to her as the foot traffic picked around the playground, kids and adults looking at the swings as if unsure whether playing was okay again after such a tragedy. A couple went from one person to the next, flashing a photo and asking if anyone had seen their son. Like so many other couples here searching.
Liam tore his attention away from them and back to Rachel. “And since we’re saying to hell with personal boundaries, do you really plan to spend the rest of your life single?”
“Do you really intend to risk more divorces?” she snapped back.
“My banking account can’t take another split.” And wasn’t that the truth?
“So what do you say we have a raging affair?” she said matter-of-factly, without taking her eyes off her black Labrador.
The air crackled with her words.
“And if I fall head over ass in love with you?”
She looked over her shoulder slowly, her exotic dark eyes undressing him. “I’ll already know you’re a fickle-hearted man who’s had three wives, so I won’t believe your declaration of undying love.”
Her proposition obviously wasn’t serious, but still it lay out there between them. What would it be like to have an affair? With this woman? Exactly what he’d been hoping for since the second he’d laid eyes on her—except when he thought about sex, his mind traveled to the possibilities of what it felt like to be in love, plan for forever.
Although forever and love hadn’t gone that well for him so far. There was also a fundamental difference here. Rachel wasn’t like other women he’d been drawn to. She was making it clear she would never fall for him, never lay claim to his overused last name and paltry bank balance. Yet for some reason, what should be simple confused the shit out of him.
Disco barked sharply.
Liam looked up fast as Rachel announced, “He’s locked in on the scent.”
Chapter 9
For five years he hadn’t held a kid.
Now Hugh had one strapped to his back like a papoose as he and Amelia walked toward civilization. Wildlife screeched and called on one side in the trees. Waves rolled and crashed against limestone on his other side. Rock iguanas bathed in the sunlight, brown and nearly three feet long.
He’d weighed all his options before choosing this slightly longer route following the beach. The van had veered so far off the beaten track before he overpowered Oliver, he’d decided it was better, not to mention safer, to follow the water. While he could find his way through the wooded area, if something happened to him, Amelia would almost certainly get lost. So, water route it would be for them.
Shrugging his shoulders, he adjusted the fit of the baby carrier he’d rigged from his survival vest, holding twenty pounds of kiddo that weighed much heavier on his soul. He stifled a curse that the kid would likely parrot back at him. Marissa had almost had a coronary when Tilly fell off her Big Wheel and said, “Shit.” Of course, once her mom reprimanded her, Tilly had said the word again and again for nearly a week before losing interest.