Alice Sharpe - Missing - One Bride

She heard him answer, but his voice was muffled and she guessed he’d moved off toward the glass doors and the balcony. At any rate, she didn’t catch a single word. The bathing suit was a size too small, but she pulled it on anyway, a little confused at first as to where all the little straps were supposed to go. A bit tight in the bust, but not too bad. The other clothes were baggy, the sandals a size too big and a lot too fancy seeing as they were shiny gold with silver and black silk daisies glued to the toes. She tried pulling off the flowers but they were stuck on there for good. Resigned, she slipped them on and avoided her reflection.

“Oh, my,” Thorn said, as she opened the door and he caught sight of her. “I guess I got a little carried away, didn’t I? Well, you look nice in bright colors, Alexandra, and it seems as though everything fits. Kind of, anyway…”

He was wearing his swim trunks and a pair of rope sandals and nothing else. His chest was covered with a soft dusting of dark hair, which clung to his pectoral muscles and inflamed Alex with the incredible urge to touch him. He pulled on a knit shirt, which effectively saved the day.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“All that steam made me dizzy,” she mumbled as-she fanned herself with an open hand.

“You okay now?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She held up the suntan lotion. “Listen, Thorn, we’re on the Oregon coast, where it’s windy half the time and cold the other half. Why do we need bathing suits and this stuff?”

“Don’t ask. It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises.”

“Not really?”

“Yes, really.”

He grinned at her. “Surely you can humor a jilted man?”

“You’re not acting terribly jilted.”

“Smiling through my tears.”

She shook her head.

“I need to get away from here, Alexandra,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “I keep thinking about Natalie and the guy with the white hair. I need to get out in the open with the fresh air and the wind. If there were horses, I’d go riding, but there aren’t. However, there is an ocean. Can’t we just go?”

Instantly contrite, Alex gathered two towels from the bathroom and followed Thorn out of the room. Twice that morning, she’d assumed his banter was lighthearted; she hadn’t considered the possibility that he was trying to make her feel comfortable or, perhaps more accurately, that he was hiding from the deep betrayal he must surely feel. She must stop calling him on it and just let him go. If he could have fun on a day like this, so could she.

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