Picture Perfect Love Page 3

  Damn her mother. “Not a chance, love.”

  “You have the grades and the scholarship and—”

  “Ophelia.”

  “Laird.” She cocks her head to one side, that sassy side of her trying to come out to defeat the doubt that her good for nothing mother put in her head. “I don’t want to hold you back.”

  My heart kicks against my chest. I take a gulp of air as soon as we reach the main floor of the house. “Don’t you know?”

  “What?” She licks her lips as I set her down on her feet, making sure she’s steady before I lace my fingers with hers.

  “You make me fly.” It’s true. With Ophelia at my side, I feel like I can conquer the entire world. “Besides, I already have a job offer that I plan on taking.”

  “Treasure hunting.”

  I flash her a smile. “Beats college debt any day of the week. It’s not like they have a gold hunting major.”

  “Mother says that a teaching degree is one.”

  “Doesn’t she have a teaching degree?”

  “Yes.” Ophelia giggles as we walk outside, then she stops, tipping her face to the sun. She’s so damn beautiful that I suck in a breath at the sight. Her dark hair ripples down her back, like a waterfall, nearly to her waist. She lets go of my hand to stretch, making her full breasts stick out, and I swear to God that while I don’t want to be turned on right now, I am. I’m so hard for her.

  She smiles, and I think she pokes her chest out even more as if she knows I’m watching. “Like the view?”

  I cough a couple of times, then admit the truth. “Yes.”

  She glances at me, her gaze running over my body and making me puff my chest out. “So do I.” Slowly, she lowers her arms and turns to me, taking my hands in hers as she bites her lip. “I thought that tonight, we could spend the night at our place and... not sleep the whole time.”

  My eyes widen as her cheeks turn pink. We haven’t had sex—well, I haven’t been inside of her, because I’ve been waiting for her to be ready.

  I’m always ready.

  Ophelia squeezes my hands. “I wasn’t able to buy you a present, so I thought that since this is a really big deal that I—”

  Oh, fuck no. She’s not giving me herself as a graduation present. “Actually, your present is to come to my party.”

  Her face falls, pink lips frowning. “You don’t want me?”

  “Hell yes, I want you. I want you so much it aches, but not like this. Not because you think you owe me or because I graduated from high school.”

  A puff of air leaves her. She pulls away. “I’m not stupid, and I’m not blind, Laird. I see the other girls around here. I know what they want from you and what they’re offering to give you.”

  “If I wanted them, I’d break up with you and take any of them up on their offers.” I’ve stayed true to Ophelia. My first time will be with her, and no one else.

  She blinks at me. “Maybe you’ll do that very soon.”

  “Because I’ve graduated.” She nods, and I want to shake the insane circular logic her mother has shoved in her head back out of it. “What was holding me back before?”

  She shrugs. “Loyalty?”

  “So, I can only be loyal when you can keep tabs on me at school?”

  Her forehead wrinkles. “I didn’t keep tabs on you, not even after I graduated last year.”

  “I know you didn’t. I’m only trying to expose the fallacy of your argument. I’ve had the opportunity for years, but I didn’t take it. I didn’t want to take it because none of them were you. None of them will ever be you.”

  Her face softens. “You have your freedom, Laird. Why won’t you take it? Leave Castle Beach and everything behind. You deserve the chance to see the world.”

  It’s then I realize that she’s trying to give me an out; that she sees herself as an albatross around my neck. “You’re not a burden.”

  “Yes, I am,” she says quietly. “I have no money. No job that I get paid to do because no one will dare hire me. I can’t even go to college because I can’t pay for it. Mother says I owe her. That she’s all alone, and it’s unfair for me to leave.”

  I take a step forward, wrapping her in my arms. “I’m not scared of your mother. No one in my family is.” I kiss the top of her head and mull over the question I was waiting to ask her when I turned eighteen later this summer. There’s only one way out of this situation, and I’m pretty sure my momma will agree. Hell, I think Duke will help us out. “Marry me, little mermaid. She can’t touch you if you’re mine.”

  Ophelia stiffens. “I don’t want you to marry me to save me, Laird.”

  “I’m not. Although I do think it’s my job to save you.” I bend my knees so I can look her directly in the eyes. “I love you, Ophelia Randolph. And like I told you before, I imagined a world without you in it, and I didn’t want to live there.”

  “Maybe one day I’ll save you,” she says, and I can tell she’s mostly convinced.

  I swallow, thinking of all the nightmares she chased away after my dad killed himself. “You already did, love. You’ve been saving me for years. Do I need to remind you of all the times you got in trouble for being there for me?”

  “I wasn’t there for you because I wanted to save you. I love you. You were and are always worth the punishments I got.”

  I give her a pointed look.

  Tears slip from the corners of her eyes. “What a pair we are...”

  “We could be husband and wife if you say yes.”

  She smiles brighter than the sun. “Yes.”

  Chapter Three

  Ophelia

  TWO YEARS LATER

  Delicious heat surrounds me as I lay in bed. The bedcovers rest at my waist. Laird’s lips move against the nape of my neck as his large hands caress my body. My back to his chest, my thighs on his... I feel so safe like this, so cared for and loved that I can almost forget a past that still gives me nightmares.

  “Rise and shine, little mermaid,” he whispers in my ear, causing me to smile and shiver.

  I peer out the window, taking note of the dark clouds on the horizon. “Let’s stay in bed.”

  “Can’t. Treasure to be found.” He flips me on my back, looming over me, his eyes as bright as the ocean on a sunny day. Those ocean eyes roam my face, my neck, and my breasts, then travel lower as Laird lets out a whistle. “Although, this booty can’t be matched anywhere. And it’s mine. All mine.”

  I roll my eyes, press the palm of my hand against his cheek, golden stubble tickling my skin. “This booty doesn’t pay the bills.”

  “You don’t have to pay for anything,” he says, lowering his body to mine, pinning me to the bed in the best way possible. “It’s my job to take care of my wife so she can do whatever she likes, whenever she likes.”

  “If that’s true, then your wife would like her husband to stay in bed with her all day.” I wriggle my eyebrows at him, feeling playful and powerful. I rest my hands on his shoulders for a second, then lightly trail my fingertips down his back. He makes a little groaning noise in his throat, and I giggle. “Does that feel good?”

  “You know it does,” he says, then swiftly moves to capture my hands, pushing them high above my head so that my arms are resting against the pillow. My breasts jiggle with the movement, slightly distracting Laird. “I have no idea what I was about to say next.”

  Okay, so more than slightly distracting him. “I believe it was that you were staying home with me instead of going treasure hunting with Quinn.”

  “Sea witch.” He jerks his gaze to my face. “I promise I won’t be long. We’ll be back before the storm hits.”

  “Or you could wait until tomorrow,” I point out.

  He shakes his head, golden hair bleached by the sun falling every which way. “The storm is liable to cover up the shipwreck by the time it's through, then I’ll have nothing to show for all my work, and we have no extra money for the house.”

  I sigh. The last hurricane to hit Castle
Beach did a number on the roof, so we’ve been living in a rented houseboat. “At least Quinn’s going with you.”

  He winks. “Exactly, and my sister is the bossiest woman in existence.”

  “Pretty sure that’s a trait shared by the entire King family.”

  He cocks a brow and loosens his grip to hold my left hand right in front of my face. “Pretty sure that ring on your finger means you’re part of the King family.”

  “I am never bossy.”

  “No, never,” he agrees with a quasi-serious face. “Especially last night when you kept shouting: More, Laird. Yes, right there. Give me more. Lick me there. Fu—”

  I manage to wriggle one of my wrists of his grasp and slam my hand over his mouth, my face heating. “That’s not the same, and you know it.”

  He tilts his head to one side, his gaze playful as I take my hand away. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.” Dipping his head, he kisses me with soft, lingering passes of his lips that make my nerves tingle from head to toe. “When I get home today, I promise to let you order me around.”

  Before I can answer him, his phone buzzes, and he reaches over me to grab it from the tiny nightstand. Our living quarters are tight on our little houseboat, but it fits us perfectly as we renovate our dream house.

  “It’s Quinn,” he says, reading the screen. “She can’t go out with me today.”

  “Then, I’ll go.”

  He shakes his head, tossing his phone beside me. “Mermaids can swim, but even they need a safe harbor from the storm.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You’re not helping.”

  “I won’t be long. Swear it.” He draws an x over his heart. “Besides, the storm’s not supposed to hit the shore. It’ll skirt us. Trust me, little mermaid, I’ve been doing this for years and years.”

  “You’re only twenty-one, so years and years is pushing it,” I point out, but I know he’s right. For all his bravado about his experience, he is careful, smart, and doesn’t tempt fate. “At least cut back on the time you were planning to be out there with Quinn.”

  He grins, lighting up our bedroom with his smile. “Deal.”

  I watch as he hops out of bed, his firm muscles expanding and contracting as he throws on a pair of board shorts and a t-shirt, then dashes in the bathroom. He’s so very fine, this husband of mine. My very own Poseidon on land. “I’m thinking flounder tonight and...” the rest of his sentence is garbled.

  “Finish brushing your teeth, and then we’ll talk,” I say, pulling the covers up.

  He reappears in our bedroom, and I can’t help but notice the boyish planes of his face have turned into the hard angles of a man. I blink at the sudden shock of it. I’ve known Laird since we were children, and I’ve loved him since I was fourteen. He claims to have fallen in love with me the first time we met, but how could a boy of eight be in love like that with a ten-year-old girl?

  Not that it matters now. The simple fact is that we belong together, and we’ve never let anything keep us apart—not even our families.

  “I was saying that I’ll cook flounder tonight if you’ll take care of the sides.” He leans against the doorway. “Unless you can’t eat flounder anymore.”

  “I need to look at the list.”

  “I need to memorize the list.” He shakes his head, his smile wide. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “Hush.” I press a finger to my mouth. “I’m not pregnant... yet.”

  “Yet is the operative word. Give me a couple more days, and not only will you be unable to walk straight, but you’ll be so pregnant that—well, I don’t know the right comparison, but I’ll knock you up good.”

  I snort. “There is something seriously wrong with you.”

  “Just ready for some more baby-making time.” His smile turns tender, so tender that my heart pinches. “I want to have babies with you. We’ll love them so much that they’ll never doubt it, not for one second.”

  “I know.” And I do. I know in my heart that Laird and I would never desert our children, never have them question our unconditional love for them. “It’s one of the reasons why I didn’t want to wait anymore.”

  “You’re so damn brave, little mermaid.” He pushes away from the door and moves to the bed, sitting on the mattress so he can take me in his strong arms. His lips brush the top of my head. “I’m going to be there for you every step of the way.”

  “Come back to me, Laird.”

  “With the tide, little mermaid.”

  Chapter Four

  Ophelia

  ONE WEEK LATER

  My toes sink in the cold sand, the waves crashing harder and harder on the shore as I pace. Rain pelts my face, stinging my skin like the time I accidentally crashed into a bush filled with hornets. My eyes had been on the kite flying high in the air and not on what could hurt me.

  Water runs in rivulets down my arms, my clothes are soaked, and my hair is plastered to my skull.

  “Laird,” I scream for the millionth time. My throat is raw, my voice hoarse “Laird!”

  But he doesn’t answer. A small part of me thinks he’ll never answer.

  The wind picks up, my skirt wrapping around my legs and causing me to stumble, then fall to my knees. I don’t bother to get up.

  Instead I stare at the ocean, the angry swirls of blue, black, and grey as it churns. It mirrors my inner turmoil as I search in vain for his boat, for any signs of life as high tide rushes in.

  Large hands grab my shoulders, spinning me around. My brother-in-law Duke stares down at me, grim as ever. “Come with me.”

  I shake my head. “Laird needs to hear my voice.”

  “Your skin is blue, you’re shaking violently, soaking wet, and it’s nearly thirty-five degrees right now. You won’t do Laird much good dead,” he points out, his tone reasonable. “We’ll come back later.”

  He doesn’t wait for me to agree or fight him. Instead, he propels me to his waiting truck. The same truck that took Laird and me everywhere when we were younger. My throat tightens.

  “How much later?” I ask.

  “After the storm.”

  He all but lifts me inside the cabin and then buckles my seatbelt before shutting the door. Hot air blows from the vents and it’s not until then I realize how unbearably cold I am. My fingers are stiff as stretch them out to warm my hands.

  Duke joins me, driving over the dune and then back in the parking lot. He’s not taking any chances that I’ll make a run for it if he were to stop long enough to change gears. Afterall, I did make a run for it yesterday when he attempted to persuade me to leave the beach at dark.

  I lean my head against the window, my skin cold against the glass. I stare at the raindrops until they become one big blurry mess.

  “They’ve stopped looking for him, haven’t they?” I ask. The Coast Guard always stops due to the probability of finding a –I swallow—a body versus manpower. I don’t blame them exactly. I know other people have need of their services. People with better odds than ours.

  “They have, but I haven’t,” Duke says. “I’ve got people looking for him.”

  “Not in this weather.”

  “As soon as it clears, they’ll be out again,” he promises.

  By then it will be too late. It’s all too late. “I want him back.”

  “I know. We want him back too,” he says.

  The beach is a blur as he drives to his mother’s house, but every so often I’ll be reminded of Laird. Our favorite donut place where he’d charm Bette into letting us buy donuts from the backdoor instead of waiting in line with the tourists. The Ferris wheel in the middle of town where we held hands for the first time. His sister’s hair salon where he convinced her to make me beautiful for prom and then again for our wedding.

  A whimper leaves me. What will I do without him?

  “Promise me you won’t go out there again when it like this,” Duke says as he pulls in the drive.

  I don’t miss the fact that he isn’t forbidding me from go
ing at all, like my mother has done. She says it’s crazy even for a Randolph. “I promise.”

  We take an unexpected route detour, ending up on the familiar street of Mockingbird Lane. “Why are you taking me here?”

  “She asked me to get you off the beach,” Duke replies. “If you need me, text me.”

  “I don’t have my phone.”

  Duke mutters under his breath about it being just like old times. “Do you know my number?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll call your mom on the landline.”

  “Great.” He all but parks his huge black truck on the front porch, then walks with me around back. The rain beats down on us both, and because I’ve had the opportunity to warm up it feels even colder. “I mean it, Ophelia, call me and I’ll come get you. Take you back home.”

  My momma would say I am home, but I know I’m not. This house of the dead hasn’t been my homes for years. “I don’t want to stay here longer than I have to.”

  He nods, then opens the door for me, but doesn’t follow me inside. “Don’t be long, little mermaid.”

  Fresh tears well at his tender words. He’s always been like the father I never grew up with. Impulsively, I hug him, then dash inside before Momma sees us and accuses me of being a veritable Jezebel.

  It’s dimly lit inside, my eyes adjusting as I stand there, dripping ocean water and rain on the old wood floor.

  “You’re freezing cold, child,” Momma say, appearing out of nowhere to wrap a heated towel around me. “Go change your clothes.”

  With a mumbled thank you, I head to my old bedroom and do as she says, then use the towel to dry my long, thick hair. I should be grateful that my mother is being so thoughtful, but I know she has an ulterior motive. She always does.

  Determined to get it over with so I can leave, I join her in the parlor where a cheery fire snaps and crackles. She’s sitting in her favorite spot, a large chair that was big enough for me to climb in with her when I was little.

  What happened to her? Did the same feelings of anger, resentment, and misery that burn through my body eventually win? Well, these feelings combined with the knowledge that my daddy wasn’t a very good husband to her... only Laird was—I mean is the best husband in the world.