Kitty French - Knight and Day

“That’s some hairstyle.”

“I know. I kind of like it.”

“Me too.” She reached out and touched a soft strand of it. “He has a good name.”

“The best,” Dylan said without missing a beat.

She nodded. “Can I still call you Dylan?”

He stroked the baby’s hair and sighed.

“It’s just a name, Kara. I’m still the same man, and for what it’s worth, I was more myself with you than I’ve ever been with anyone else.”

She reached for the pastry bag he’d placed down on the sunbed between them and ripped it open.

“I know that now.” She passed him the coffee, and then teased a warm pastry apart in her fingers. “I couldn’t get on the plane back to England. I tried, I really did. I queued, but when it came to my turn, I couldn’t get on the damn plane.”

He sipped the scalding drink from the tiny hole in the lid, leaning sideways so as not to hold it over Billy’s head.

“You should have.”

“Should I?”

Dylan placed the cup down and accepted the chunk of pastry she held out.

“It would have been the sensible choice.”

“I don’t do sensible. I do full throttle, even though it might break my neck,” she said. “Or my heart.”

“I never wanted to break your heart, English.”

“You put it back together again last night.”

“I broke my own heart too, if it’s any consolation.”

They sat in silence then, man, woman and child.

She screwed up the empty pastry bag, set the coffee cup down in the sand, and sank back against the sun lounger. “Lie with me for a while?”

Dylan swallowed hard. He wanted to lie there with Kara so much that he feared his banging heart might wake Billy. He lay back slowly beside her and offered her the crook of his shoulder. She met his eyes for an uncertain second and then accepted, settling herself against the warmth of his body.

He was so warm. So warm, and vital, and so intrinsically, basically right that she sighed heavily. His arms felt like her home.

“Dylan…” she said.

He stroked her hair. “Ssh. Just for one minute. Don’t say anything.”

And so she didn’t. She closed her eyes and let him stroke her hair, her arm flung across his midriff beneath Billy’s tiny toes.

Little by little she tilted her face, and little by little he dipped his, until his mouth was a breath away from her own.

He opened his eyes, and in hers he found absolution.

She opened her eyes, and in his she found devotion.

“How are we gonna play this thing, English?” he said, cupping her face with his palm.

“One day at a time,” she whispered. “Kiss me?”

His gaze fell to her lips, and then back up to her eyes. No kiss had ever felt so important.

Her gentle sigh of longing filled his head when he lowered his mouth over hers. “Kara,” he whispered, her name his prayer as he closed his eyes and let his feelings take over. Her mouth opened and invited him in, let his tongue slide over hers, into her heart, her everything. He buried his hand in her hair and held her head to his. “I love you so very much,” he breathed, and then he kissed her again, aching all over with how much she meant to him.

She hadn’t said why she was here, or if she intended to stay, but he needed to say it anyway, and he needed her to hear it.

“I love you too,” she said, her hand gentle over the warm skin at the nape of his neck when he lifted his head. “Can I stay?”

Dylan eased back, his fingers still on her jaw. Such a casually phrased question, but he could feel her trembling.

“Are you sure you want to?”

Kara looked at him, clear eyed and very, very clear in her mind.

“I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“It’s not just me, Kara,” he said, glancing down at the top of Billy’s head. “We’re kind of a package deal.”

“Hey, the cute baby clinched it,” she smiled, stroking the baby's foot. “You should thank him someday.”

“Every day for the rest of my life.”

“I’m going to stick around to make sure you do, Sailor.”

Dylan kissed her hair as she settled her head on his shoulder and looked out towards the sea, towards the Love Tug nestled at the far end of the rocks.

“I knew the moment I saw that crazy-ass boat that I was in trouble,” she said.

“But you didn’t turn around and walk away.”

“Trouble is my middle name.”

“Then we match.” Kara felt his soft laugh against her hair.

“I don’t know the first thing about babies. Just so you know," she said, and touched Billy’s pink cheek.

“Me neither, but I’m learning,” Dylan said. He reached down and un-clipped the baby carrier carefully, then manoeuvred the still sleeping Billy down onto the cushion of the shaded lounger. Unencumbered now, he stood, and Kara stood with him.

“Come here, English,” he said gently, pulling her near. She wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes, breathing his scent in deep as his restless hands moved over her back, in her hair, over the flare of her hips.

“You fit me, Kara,” he said. “You know every fucked up part of me, and you still see someone you can love.”

She wrapped him closer. So much man. So much more than he gave himself credit for. “You fit me, Sailor.” She tipped her head back and offered him her mouth, an offer he accepted and then some, kissing her breath away. They lingered at the water’s edge, eyes closed, her face in his hands as his tongue moved against hers. Love and lust sparkled low in her stomach, as warm and welcome as a summer’s day.

“You feel that?” he said, his voice raw with emotion.

“I feel it.” She didn’t have the words to tell him how much.

“Say you’ll never go,” he said, even though he’d promised himself he wouldn’t ask it of her.

“Tell me you want me to stay forever,” she murmured, knowing he was the love of her lifetime.

“Always, English,” he said. “Always.”

Ibiza, two years later.

 “Not much further now,” Kara laughed, tugging Dylan along the beach. He almost stumbled on a rock in the sand and reached up to push off the blindfold Kara had insisted he wear for the duration of the car journey from the villa. She’d been elated and giddy all day, a sure indication that she was up to no good.

“No, don’t,” she said, catching his arm and smacking it away. “You’ll spoil the surprise.”

“I’ve told you what I want for my birthday,” he grumbled.

“And you’ll get me.” She stroked her hand down his ass, enjoying him being at her mercy. “Later. After your surprise.”

She tugged him towards the rocks at the end of the beach and then stopped and slid her arms around him.

“This surprise just got a whole lot more interesting,” he murmured, running his hands down her spine appreciatively through her clinging dress. He kissed her, hot and open mouthed, his hands moving over her body, and for a little while all thoughts of the surprise waiting at the end of the rocks flew out of her head.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve blindfolded me on my birthday,” he murmured, and she laughed softly into his kiss, remembering.

“I know.” She slid her hands beneath his T-shirt. “You trusted me then.”

“I trust you now. Untie the blindfold, English,” he said, his hand cupping her cheek. “I want to look at you.”

She kissed him once more, long and lingering as she slowly untied the blindfold, letting her hands play in his hair as she took her time over loosening the fastening. Finally he blinked around, freed, letting his eyes adjust to the starlit night.

Recognition flitted across his face as he took in his surroundings. “Vadella,” he said simply, with a smile.

Kara nodded and took his hand. He narrowed his eyes as she smiled serenely and led him along the rocky path at the edge of the beach. He hadn’t walked the path in a good while, not since it became apparent very soon after Billy’s arrival that babies and boats didn’t mix. Not boats like the one he’d called home, in any case. The pretty hillside villa he shared now with Kara and his toddler son afforded them more space and convenience and presented many fewer hazards for a wobbly new walker and inquisitive explorer, though it had to be said, it lacked the kitsch charm of Dylan’s previous abode. Very occasionally, he missed the old boat’s quirks.

They passed by the newer boats moored there now, including several impressive looking cruisers and a couple of fishing boats, and Kara kept going all the way along to the very end of the rocks. So they were going back.

Back to the Love Tug.

Dylan started to laugh softly. He could see it lit up ahead now, the multi-coloured fairy lights around the railings of the deck winking bright against the dark skies, low music floating out from the speakers.

“Have dinner with me?” Kara said, and the look in her eyes promised a whole lot more besides.

“You know all the best places to eat,” he said. "Let me guess. Take-out paella?"

“Not exactly,” she said with a small, uncharacteristically nervous smile. She handed him a set of keys he recognised instantly.

"It's yours," she said, watching his face as her words sank in.

"You bought the boat?"

His incredulous grin wiped the anxiety from her face.

"Every sailor needs a boat," she said, leaning in to kiss him. "Or a weekend shag palace…"

"Shag palace?" he said, mimicking her accent, smiling against her lips. "So English, as always."

 Kara loved the sight of him stepping aboard the old boat again. So many good memories were wrapped up in one small, crazy old vessel. She accepted the hand he held out and stepped aboard, the heels of her cowboy boots loud against the deck.