“I never knew a shower could make me feel that good,” Cora said with a blissful sigh.
Trent nodded, keeping his eyes on the crashing waves. Maybe if he counted them as they rolled in, his body would calm down enough that he could look Cora in the eye without thinking anything inappropriate.
“I feel like a brand-new human being,” she added.
Trent glanced back in her direction to see she’d turned around. Now the flat plane of her stomach was exposed, and the sight of her perky breasts barely kept in place by the skimpy white triangles was enough to melt him like ice cream on a summer’s day. He caught sight of a small tattoo on her upper thigh, something black and white that was small and a little difficult to make out. He would never have pegged her to be the kind of girl hiding some ink under her skirt.
The teenage boy was scurrying in the direction of the car park now, averting his eyes from Cora’s body and strategically holding his boogie board in front of him.
I feel your pain, buddy.
“Nice tat,” Trent said, determined to keep his mind on a subject that felt safe, rather than letting his thoughts wander to how easily he could snap those bikini strings with his teeth.
She’s your sister’s friend, dude. Not cool.
“Oh, thanks.” Cora turned the taps off and squeezed the water out of her long hair. “It’s in the perfect hide-from-your-parents place.”
“They’re not a fan of sports or ink?”
“Just two items in a long list of many things I was never supposed to indulge in,” she said drily. When she came closer, he could see it was a small creature—a caterpillar. It was inked in fine black lines, almost minimalist in design. It seemed an unusual choice.
“I’ve seen a lot of butterfly tattoos in my day, but not many caterpillars.”
“I have a theory on that,” she said, pulling her dress over her head. Since her body was damp, it stuck to her in places, but the fabric was thin and the balmy breeze would have her dry in no time at all. “Lots of people choose the butterfly as the representation for metamorphosis, because it’s the end state. The goal. And so many people want to be the butterfly now. They want the beauty and the admiration, without putting in the work required of the caterpillar. Yet without the caterpillar, there is no butterfly.”
“That’s very profound.”
“I guess I’d rather be at a point where there’s still hope and good things in front of me, than wishing to rush to the end.” Cora’s cheeks flushed. “But that was probably way more information than you wanted.”
She gave him a gentle shove toward the showers, her pale-blue gaze not quite meeting his. Trent wasn’t sure he’d ever met someone where his initial impression had been so swiftly turned on its heel.
And, against his better judgment, Cora Cabot had him officially intrigued.
Chapter Five
Cora woke the next morning, her back tight from sleeping at an awkward angle. Trent had advised it would be best to give Liv’s room another day or two to fully dry out, since he was concerned about her breathing in anything harmful before the post-flooding treatment process was complete. He’d offered her the spare bed—aka the one he’d been sleeping in the past few days—but she’d refused.
Frankly, she was having a hard enough time keeping her eyes off Trent without sleeping in a bed with sheets that probably smelled like hot Aussie man. The comfy blue couch seemed like a much safer option. A much smarter option. Especially considering she’d already given so much away about herself—talking about her family’s brow-raising quirks and sharing the story of her tattoo.
Like someone as charming as him gave a crap about metamorphosis.
Cora scrubbed a hand over her face. She’d probably sounded like a total weirdo. For all her mother’s efforts to turn her into the perfect young lady of society, she was still a little too thoughtful and a little too strange and a little too introverted for her own good sometimes. She looked at the tattoo, peeking out from the hem of her sleep shorts. She’d drawn the original design herself, keeping it simple and stark with the crisp black lines and minimal shading.
At the time she’d been desperate for change—stuck in a toxic battle of wills with her mother, failing her classes, struggling to get out of bed in the mornings with dread weighing her limbs