Ride the Tide (Deep Six #3) - Julie Ann Walker Page 0,44

your best qualities. Never lose it.”

Snagging one of her curls, he pulled it straight. Then he let it go and watched it spring back into a spiral. His green eyes darkened, and it seemed as if he chose his next words carefully.

“You’re a lovely woman.” When she opened her mouth to object, he lifted a finger and placed it over her lips. “Hush. Let me finish.”

She swallowed thickly and nodded for him to go on.

“I know you don’t see it because you feel like you were an ugly duckling growing up. And maybe you were. Who am I to say? But just like the story, you’ve turned into a swan. And if you keep going around offering yourself up to men, one of them is going to take you up on it.”

“That’s the whole point.” She crossed her arms irritably. “There are forty million unmarried men over the age of eighteen in the United States. I’m hoping at least one of them will agree to do me.”

“I know you think it doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “That it’s not a big deal as long as it’s a done deal, but it can be beautiful if you wait and do it with the right person. It should be beautiful and done with the right person.”

“Ugh!” She blew out an exasperated breath. “I live on an island with a bunch of men who act as if life is one giant bachelor party. But when it comes to me and my virginity, they get all flowery and virtuous.”

Doc didn’t respond to that. Instead he said, “Can I ask you a question?” His visage seemed…something. Not troubled exactly. Maybe puzzled was the word she was looking for.

“Go for it.” She made a rolling motion with her hand. “I’ll answer, because you know me. Miss Earnest.”

“Why Mason?”

“Ha!” That made her laugh. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? I’ve asked myself that so many times I’ve lost count.”

“What answer did you come up with?”

“I don’t know exactly.” She shrugged. “I like him. Or liked him.” She glowered at the bar, running her fingernail over a scratch on the wooden surface. “And it felt right to ask him to be the one.”

Her food arrived. But for the first time in her life, she’d lost her appetite.

“Can I close out my tab and get this to go?” she asked the bartender. Wincing, she added, “Sorry to be a bother.”

“No trouble at all,” the bartender assured her because being courteous to pain-in-the-ass customers was part of his job description.

After he whisked her food away to box it up, Doc asked her quietly, “Do you want my opinion?”

“Of course, Papa Bear. That’s why I come talk to you. You have the rare ability to cultivate clarity.”

He smiled slightly, and Alex saw the blond at the other end of the bar stare lustfully. There was something about Doc—aside from his big, lean body and ruggedly handsome face. It was a…sadness, Alex decided.

There was a tragedy in Doc’s past. Grief was written all over him, and it was a vulnerability women couldn’t resist.

“Things that feel right don’t happen very often.” His tone was soft, his voice not much more than a whisper. “In fact, they’re damned rare. Don’t give up on Mason. Not yet.”

“I hate to contradict you.” She shook her head. “Especially since you’re sort of my guru. But I’ve offered myself to Mason McCarthy for the last time. I won’t let him make a fool of me again.”

Despite what she’d told Doc, seeing Mason with Donna had hurt. She felt the ache in her bones. Deeper. In her marrow. But she refused to dwell on why that should be. Why she should even care if all she’d wanted from him was a little slam-bam-thank-you-sir.

It was easier and far more satisfying just to be mad at him.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Doc said in a stage whisper.

She followed his line of sight and saw Mason standing in the doorway. When his eyes landed on them, his face took on the mien of a storm cloud.

Correction. That would be a storm cloud on legs because he pushed through the crowd with determination, each step eating up what seemed like miles of distance.

Alex’s hands and feet tingled with the urge to run when he came to a stop directly behind Doc’s stool. His stance was wide and hostile-looking, punctuated by his huge arms crossed over his massive chest. His brows knitted together, turning his face into a mask of…