Beyond the Horizon Read online

  She’s right, they don’t. The white short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing is pulled taught against hard muscle and only seems to highlight his dark tribal tattoos that peak out from beneath the sleeves. Grandpa John wasn’t a small man, but clearly of a different build to this stranger. At least the shorts fit around his waist, if a little too short given he must be well over six foot. I can’t help but trace my gaze over every inch of him. Unable to tear my eyes away.

  “Thank you for lending them to me. I need to see if I can get my boat towed into the harbour and walking around half naked probably isn’t the best idea.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Grandma jokes, her eyes sparkling. “You’ve grown up to be quite the handsome young man.”

  I groan internally. Is she flirting with him? He smiles a little, humouring her I’m sure.

  “Won’t you take a seat and have some lunch, Kai? Let us talk some.”

  “Kai?”

  “Malakai, but we all called you Kai,” Grandma Silva says, her gaze far away, lost somewhere in the past.

  “Malakai?” I look between them both. Isn’t that the name I heard Lola say when I helped her at the café?

  “That’s right. I’m Malakai Azaiah Dunbar,” he replies, pulling a chair out opposite me, before finally resting his gaze on mine for the first time since stepping into the room. The second our eyes meet I feel my skin burn with a dangerous heat that licks over every inch of me. I drop my gaze, choosing to concentrate on the open collar of his shirt and the dark ink that swirls there. “And you are?”

  “You know who I am,” I retort sharply, forgetting my manners. Forgetting how to breathe, actually.

  “I know who you are, but I don’t know your name. Want to tell me?” he insists, his voice lowering in a growl that would be considered rude had I not been so inexplicably attracted to him.

  “It’s Connie Silva. Dad took Mum’s name when they married, said he preferred the sound of it to his own. ‘Beaumont isn’t very exciting’, he used to say,” I explain, rambling a little.

  “Connie,” he repeats, as though testing out the sound of my name on his tongue. He nods, the dark forest-green of his eyes flashing with understanding when I chance a look at him again. “Makes sense.”

  “Makes sense?” I query, drawn into a strange vortex where only he and I exist. I’m barely aware of Grandma in the room.

  “Your mother’s favourite book was Lady Chatterley’s Lover…”

  The way his voice caresses the word lover has my pulse hitching, and my heart racing a staccato beat that has my fingers itching to pick up my guitar and strum the same wild chords. His voice trails off when Grandma coughs, reminding us both that she’s here.

  “It was?” I whisper, feeling raw, flayed open somehow. I didn’t know that. I didn’t know he was a friend of my parents, or that Grandma knew him too. What else don’t I know?

  “Yes, Kai here knew your mother and father. They were friends, they grew up together,” Grandma finally explains.

  “You did?” I blurt out.

  “Yes. I lived on the island too. This is my home.”

  “This is your home?” I repeat, gobsmacked. Grandma has never once mentioned him. My parents never mentioned him as far as I can recall, and if I find out that he once lived here in this bloody house of all places I might just lose it.

  Grandma Silva laughs, tutting. “No, not this house, silly girl.”

  I can feel my cheeks flush. I love my Grandma, I really do, but when she speaks to me like I’m still ten and not an adult, it makes me wish that I’d left the island with my friends just to prove that I don’t rely on her as much as she believes. Except I do. She knows it and so do I.

  “You grew up here?” I repeat like a broken record.

  He nods, a stray piece of ebony hair falling across his forehead. I have the urge to sweep it back off his face. “I left shortly after my sixteenth birthday. This is the first time I’ve been back in twenty years.”

  Twenty years? That makes him… thirty-six.

  Is it wrong that makes him more attractive, not less? I’ve never been attracted to boys my own age, not that there are many on the island, but still, there’s something to be said about a man who’s lived a life and not a boy who’s looking to start it.

  “How did you know Grandma would still be living here?”

  “I didn’t,” he shrugs, as if that’s answer enough.

  “Why did you leave?” I blurt out, not thinking. I mean, clearly he left for a very good reason. One I have no business asking about. Malakai stiffens and a look passes between him and Grandma.

  “That’s not important. The fact that you’re back, is,” Grandma Silva responds, shutting that line of questioning down. What is she hiding? More to the point, why? I let it go, for now.

  “How’s Clayhill? Has it fallen into disrepair yet?” Malakai asks Grandma, clearly relieved not to have to answer my probing question.

  I frown. “Clayhill?”

  “Yes, my home.”

  “That’s your place? But I thought…”

  “It is,” he cuts in, still giving me his profile as though he can’t bear to look at me. The curtness of his answer has my mouth snapping shut. Why is he being such a dick?

  Grandma tuts, clucking her tongue. “In answer to your question, no, Clayhill hasn’t fallen into disrepair. I’ve made sure it has been looked after. Lola lives there now.”

  “She does?” Malakai seems surprised, but no more than I am. There’s a familiarity when he speaks her name.

  Grandma Silva chuckles. “Yes, it seemed appropriate given your history. You need to go see her soon.”

  “Fuck,” he exclaims, swiping a hand over his face. It’s the first time I’ve seen an ounce of something like emotion cross his features. Lola affects him. My stomach coils painfully.

  “Yes, indeed. Lola has plenty she needs to say to you. I’m pretty certain arsehole, wanker and dipshit are the first words she’ll voice given she’s used them to describe you enough times in our chats over the past year.”

  “Grandma!” I say, shocked. She never swears, like ever. Also, I never knew she was so close to Lola. Clearly they’re friendly enough to have conversations about Malakai. Conversations that I’ve never been privy to.

  Grandma just shrugs, a grin pulling up her lips. “Oh, sweet child, I have lived a very long life. I think I can afford a swear word here and there, don’t you?”

  I don’t answer because now that I’ve gotten over the shock of my dear, old Grandma swearing like some of the fishermen down at the harbour, my thoughts have turned to how Lola and Malakai know each other and what their history is. I consider asking, but something tells me I’m not going to like the answer.

  Not one bit.

  “Lola talked to you about me?”

  “Regularly. You have a lot of explaining to do, young man,” Grandma says, clucking her tongue again. That’s twice. She’s disappointed in him. I know that because I know my Grandma, but to look at her you wouldn’t have any idea. Grandma never gets cross. She’s always so calm, so kind and warm. It’s what I love most about her, actually.

  “Believe me, Ma, Lola’s already expressed quite how unimpressed with me she is.”

  “So you have talked to her then?”

  “Yes, briefly over the phone.”

  “Good. It won’t come as much of a shock when you turn up.”

  “I’m expecting fireworks.”

  Fireworks? My stomach rolls over. I’ve no right to feel jealous, to feel anything at all, but thoughts of this beautiful, albeit caustic man being reunited with Lola has me feeling sick. I’m acting like he’s mine. He’s not. I’m fully aware of how ridiculous my reaction is to him. Until this morning, I never truly believed in love at first sight no matter how many times Grandma told me it was real. Though given the way I’m feeling, I’m beginning to think she was right all along. My heart squeezes, stops beating, then starts once more, reminding me exactly what my body feels about him. Damn
it.

  “You should expect a rocket up your arse, yes,” Grandma Silva responds, her face straight even though her eyes twinkle despite the lingering disappointment I notice in them.

  A smile tugs up his lips, lighting up his eyes momentarily before he turns to look at me. That smile drops. “What?” he asks, and by ask, I mean demands. “You’re staring.”

  My heart thumps in my chest as his gaze pierces mine.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all,” I say lightly, covering up my sudden reaction with a broad smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. Smiling is an automatic reaction with me. I always hide my true feelings with smiles because showing how I really feel isn’t an option. People assume I’m an open book, that they know who I am. But no one does. Not truly, not even Grandma. No one sees me, only what’s on the surface and what I choose to share with them. Until now I’ve been okay with that.

  Malakai regards me for a moment, then nods and picks up one of the proffered sandwiches, taking a bite. I watch him the whole time he chews, unable or, perhaps, unwilling to take my eyes off him. In contrast, he keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the table, lost in his thoughts. Thoughts about a beautiful woman named Lola Hicks, no doubt.

  For the next hour Malakai chats with Grandma, ignoring my existence. I notice how he avoids any personal questions about his life and always seems to steer the conversation back to Grandma and what she’s been doing over the years. Neither one of them bring up my parents again, and that alone strikes me as odd given he was supposedly friends with them both.

  Still, there is something to be said for being ignored so blatantly. I can stare at Malakai as much as I like without feeling guilty about it. A few times he flinches as though he’s aware of my ogling and is trying not to let it bother him. But most of the time, he seems relaxed, happy with small talk whilst I blatantly commit every inch of him to memory.

  Maybe I’m perverted. Maybe I’m lonely. Maybe I’m delusional to even consider that this untouchable, unbreachable, unobtainable man is my soulmate.

  I would’ve laughed out loud at the thought had I not believed it to be the truth deep down in the marrow of my bones. For all the warnings Grandma instilled in me, she did nothing to stop this whimsical heart of mine from longing for the kind of soul-deep love my parents had and lost. Even though I didn’t really believe it was true, I’d hoped that it was. If I told her how I feel she would try and warn me off my feelings, off him, and would remind me to always guard my heart.

  No. Matter. What.

  “Connie?” Grandma Silva says, probably for the fourth or fifth time given the look on her face.

  “Yes, sorry. I was miles away.”

  “Always lost in her head,” Grandma explains to Malakai who is, once again, frowning at me.

  “I was just thinking about Jack…” I lie, then falter at how the frown line between Malakai’s eyebrows deepen. He flashes me a look that colours my skin in a warm flush.

  “Hmm, as much as I like him, he’s a little too wild for my liking,” Grandma says offhandedly, as though she really doesn’t like him all that much. The truth is, she loves Jack, has always said that he’s a good boy despite his need to chase excitement like it’s a girl in a very short skirt.

  “It’s not like that,” I begin, shaking my head, because it really, really isn’t. Except for that one time when it was… a mistake.

  “Well, I need to head off,” Malakai says abruptly, pushing back from the table, the sound of the chair scraping over the tiled floor, sharp to my ears. “Thank you for your hospitality, Ma. I’ll bring the clothes back as soon as I can get to my boat and my stuff.”

  “It’s no bother. John would be glad they’d been put to good use,” she responds, waving her hand about as she gets to her feet. “How long do you think you’ll be staying on the island?”

  “For as long as it takes to fix the mast. Then I’ll be leaving.”

  “Well, be sure to come back anytime whilst you’re here. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

  “Thank you.” He nods tightly, suddenly awkward. This time Grandma doesn’t try to hug him, and he doesn’t offer her one either. “I’ll be off then.”

  “Time to face the music,” Grandma quips.

  “Indeed.”

  We both watch him leave, silence descending. When he steps out of the front door, shutting it behind him with a gentle click, a long-held breath releases from my lips. I have so many questions, but not one of them have a chance to leave my lips before Grandma Silva is traversing the table and reaching for me as I stand, her warm fingers tight on my arm.

  “Connie…” she warns.

  “What?”

  “No, Connie. Not him,” she says, shaking her head. Worry scatters like a storm cloud over her face.

  “I don’t know what you mean?” I respond, not daring to look her in the eyes.

  “I may be old, but I’m no fool. Malakai is off-limits. He isn’t just dangerous to your heart.”

  “Grandma, I’ve only just met him and he’s… old,” I add helplessly, even though his age means nothing to me. We’re both adults and the age gap is totally irrelevant in my view. Not that it matters, I’m leaping way ahead of myself here.

  She lifts her hand to grasp my jaw, forcing my face upwards. “Look at me, child.”

  Reluctantly, I do. She regards me for a long time, looking deep into my eyes as though searching for something. She seems to find it, because she sighs heavily.

  “I recognise that look,” she says, an overwhelming sadness darkening her features. “This will only end in heartache, Connie. It always does…”

  “Grandma, you’re seeing something that isn’t there. I just met him,” I remind her, just as much as myself.

  Her fingers slide across my cheek, cupping my face, laughing softly. “I fell for your grandfather the moment our eyes met. Your mother was the same. She loved your father the second she laid eyes on him that first day of school. They were five.”

  “This is ridiculous,” I say lamely.

  “It isn’t. Nothing about love is ridiculous. Nothing about our story is ridiculous. We’re cursed in love Connie. That’s just the way it is. You can have fun, live life, but don’t fall in love. Please.”

  “I don’t love him. My God, Grandma, I don’t even know him and honestly, I’m not sure I even like him…” She folds her arms across her chest and raises her eyebrows, but I carry on regardless of the look she’s giving me. “Not to mention the fact that he’s rude and abrupt and totally ignored me the whole time I sat here!” I huff, realising how petulant I sound and hating it.

  “Please, just guard your heart. Don’t fall, Connie. It’ll only hurt. Trust me,” she begs, ignoring my tirade.

  “Grandma, you’ve got this all wrong…”

  “No, child. I haven’t,” she says sadly before planting a soft kiss on my forehead.

  The thing is, it really doesn’t matter what I feel because it’s perfectly clear Malakai Azaiah Dunbar has zero interest in me.

  Six

  Malakai

  It takes me an hour to find someone to sail me out to my boat, Princess, and another couple hours to get her safely docked into the harbour. Despite Ma Silva’s advice, I chose to rescue her first rather than face Lola. That’s one whirlwind I’m happy to avoid for the time being, chicken-shit that I am.

  Besides, I need to find my centre again. Being on this island has brought back memories I’ve long since tried to forget, not to mention Connie…

  NO!

  I force my thoughts back to the present moment. To the here and now, refusing to think of the woman who reminds me of a girl I once loved and is all kinds of off-limits. Jesus, she’s barely an adult. Eighteen. Not to mention she’s the daughter of my best friend and the girl I loved more than life itself. She’s so off-limits it’s not even funny. I need to put a whole ocean between me and Connie Silva, and I need to do it soon.

  If it hadn’t been for Ma Silva distracting me the whole time I sat with them both in her kitchen
I would’ve had trouble taking my eyes off Connie. Though, I felt her hot gaze on me well enough. I’d never felt so scrutinised before and I don’t know if that’s because I’ve been alone for so long that I’m not used to it, or if she was blatantly checking me out. I’d forced myself to ignore her as much as possible, not willing to look into the face of such alluring beauty. But those eyes… that silky, wild mane of hair… those long, long legs… her freckled covered skin and bee-stung lips.

  Fuck.

  “Don’t even think about it, arsehole,” I mutter to myself, taking my anger out on the rope that I’m currently securing to the dock so that Princess doesn’t float away and get damaged further.

  Two nights ago I hit a sudden squall that had me battling the elements and left me with a damaged mast that’s in need of repair. Experience tells me it’s going to take a few days, maybe a week to get it fixed, but I can’t afford to stick around for that long. I need to get the hell off this island as soon as possible. I’ve never been comfortable on land. The wide expanse of the ocean has always been my home, my haven, my saving grace. Aside from the occasional modern-day pirates, and the sudden turn in weather that can catch you off guard, living at sea is relatively trouble free. That’s the way I like it.

  Being on land causes way too many problems. Problems that are twenty years too young for me and have danger written over every inch of tantalising, sun-kissed, freckled skin.

  Shaking my head and gritting my jaw, I climb aboard and down the hatch to my cabin, quickly changing into clothes that actually fit. Pulling on a pair of linen shorts, a faded t-shirt that’s more grey than black, and flip-flops, I head back outside to find Rob and thank him for helping me get Princess safely moored.

  “No problem, Malakai. Glad to be of service,” he responds. I find him sitting on the deck of his trawler, drinking a cup of coffee from his flask. He has his face raised skyward, catching the last rays of the afternoon sun. It’s already well past six pm and took longer than I’d anticipated to get Princess back. Still, at least she’s safe now.