Della closed the bedroom door behind her. Her fingers trembled as she unzipped her dress, letting the fabric pool at her feet. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she hesitated, staring at a woman she hardly recognized.
Her eyes were glassy, her cheeks still warm from the evening's many emotions. The memory of Hunter's subtle glances and sauntered touches haunted her. She couldn't afford to let her feelings develop, not when the lie was growing too heavy to carry.
The shower was scalding hot, an unlikeness to the cool ocean breeze that had kissed her skin earlier. The water pelted her as she pressed her forehead against the tile wall, sobbing quietly. *You're not Emily. You'll never be Emily.*
After what felt like an eternity, she stepped out, drying herself off before slipping into a simple satin nightgown. The cool fabric clung to her damp skin, the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains. She pulled her hair over one shoulder, absently combing through it with her fingers as she padded barefoot across the room. The bed looked inviting, but her mind was too restless to sleep.
She turned toward the window, gazing out at the moonlit waves, when the door creaked open behind her. Startled, she turned to see Hunter stepping inside, his tall frame silhouetted.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," he said, his voice low.
She hugged her arms around herself, suddenly very aware of how the satin clung to her curves. "It's fine," she said softly, watching as he crossed the room toward the dresser.
But his eyes sauntered taking in the way the satin draped over her form, highlighting the gentle curve of her shoulders and the delicate line of her collarbone. He cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away as though embarrassed by his own thoughts.
"I was just looking for this," he murmured. Clearing his throat, Hunter reached for a small box on the dresser, as though remembering why he had come. But even as he held it in his hand, he seemed hesitant to leave.
"I was thinking," he began, "tomorrow we could do something a bit more adventurous."
"Adventurous?" she asked, tilting her head.
He leaned casually against the doorframe, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips. He nodded. "The coral reefs nearby are supposed to be breathtaking. Snorkeling or diving—it depends on what you'd like."
Della hesitated. "That sounds... lovely."
"Good," he said, his lips curving into a small smile. Then, as if an afterthought, he added, "But that's tomorrow."
He stepped closer, his presence filling the room. "Tonight, I thought we could keep it simple. I brought down some blankets and made cocoa.The stars are beautiful tonight, it's too perfect to waste indoors."
She blinked.
Her lips parting in surprise, but she couldn't bring herself to decline "That sounds... perfect."
"Meet me outside when you're ready," he said, before turning to leave.
Della stepped out a few minutes later, wrapped in a shawl to ward off the cool night air. Hunter had set up a cozy little spot on the sand, with a large blanket laid out and a thermos of hot cocoa waiting between two steaming mugs. The sight warmed her chest.
He looked up as she approached, his expression softening. "There you are."
She sat beside him, while he handed her a mug, their fingers brushing as she took it.
"Careful, it's hot,"
She nodded, taking a sip, the rich, creamy warmth soothing her frayed nerves. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
After some time, Hunter set his mug down and stood, brushing the sand off his hands. "Come with me," he said, extending a hand to her.
"Where?" Della asked, glancing between him and the waves gently lapping the shore.
"The water," he replied, nodding toward the ocean. "It's perfect at night. Trust me."
She hesitated, the idea of stepping into the sea this late feeling as strange as it was tempting. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious," he said with a teasing grin. "Come on, Emily."
"I don't even have a swimsuit," she pointed out, though it sounded half-hearted.
"You don't need one," he countered smoothly. "The water doesn't care what you're wearing."
Della rolled her eyes, but she stood anyway, brushing sand off her gown. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"I've been told," he replied with a wink, already walking toward the water.
She followed him hesitantly, the cool sand giving way to the warm, gentle waves that curled around her ankles. The moonlight, illuminating Hunter as he strode confidently into the water, the fabric of his shirt clinging to his chest.
He turned back, his grey eyes sparkling. "What's taking you so long?"
"It's cold!" she protested, hugging herself as the water crept higher around her calves.
"It's not cold," he countered, wading closer to her. The water now reached his waist, and the wet fabric clung to him in a way that made her avert her eyes. "You'll get used to it. Come here."
She hesitated, biting her lip. Her nightgown was already damp from the spray, and she knew once she went further, it would cling to her in ways she wasn't entirely comfortable with.
Hunter seemed to read her thoughts. "I promise, I won't look." His voice was softer now, more sincere. "Just trust me."
Della took a deep breath and stepped forward, the water rising to her knees, then her thighs. Her gown floated around her before sticking to her skin, the sensation making her shiver.
When she was waist-deep, Hunter reached out a hand to steady her. "There you go," he said, his fingers brushing hers. "Not so bad, right?"
"It's… warmer than I thought," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Told you," he said with a small smile, still holding her hand as he guided her deeper.
They stopped where the water was chest-high, the gentle waves rolling around them. Della tilted her head back, letting the moonlight wash over her face.
"It's beautiful," she murmured.
"It is," Hunter replied, though his gaze wasn't on the horizon—it was on her.
She turned to him, water dripping from her hair, and caught the way his eyes softened. "What?"
"Nothing," he said quickly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. But then he added, "I've just never seen you like this before."
"Like what?"
"So… honest."
Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly looked away, focusing on the water instead. "You're imagining things."
"Am I?" he asked, stepping closer. The space between them felt smaller now,
Her gown clung to her curves, and she felt acutely aware of every inch of her body. But Hunter's gaze wasn't predatory—it was curious.
"You were hesitant to come in," he said, his tone lighter now, as if trying to ease her discomfort. "But look at you. You're practically a mermaid."
Della laughed softly, the sound surprising even herself. "A very clumsy mermaid, maybe."
"I wouldn't say that," he replied, his smile widening. "You've got the grace for it."
She splashed him lightly, rolling her eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere."
"Who said I was flattering you?"
Their laughter fused with the sound of the waves.
As they stood there, Hunter reached out again, this time placing his hand gently on her elbow. "Careful," he said as a larger wave rolled in. "I've got you."
His touch was firm but not overbearing, and for a moment, Della felt a pang of guilt. He was being so kind, so attentive, and yet he doesn't know the truth.
She looked up at him, her expression conflicted. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Being… this," she said, gesturing vaguely. "You don't have to go out of your way for me."
Hunter's brow furrowed, and he seemed to choose his words carefully. "Maybe I just want to."
"That's not an answer."
He sighed, his fingers still lightly gripping her arm. "Because you deserve it. Because you've been so distant lately, and I… I just wanted to remind you that I'm here."
Della's chest tightened. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself unable to say anything.
"You're shivering," he said after a moment, his tone shifting. "Let's get you out of here before you catch a cold."
Della moved toward the shore, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders and her dress molding against her skin. She shivered slightly, the cool breeze tickling her damp skin as she stepped onto the sand, wrapping her arms around herself.
Behind her, Hunter followed, As he ran a hand through his wet hair.
He picked up one of the blankets he'd brought and draped it over her shoulders, his fingers brushing her skin briefly. The gesture was simple yet intimate, sending a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
She glanced back at him, her cheeks heating. "It became colder than I expected."
"Still," he said, his lips curving into a faint smile, "you braved it."
Della nodded, biting her lower lip. "You were right, though. It was beautiful under the moonlight. Peaceful."
"Let's sit for a while," he suggested, gesturing to the spot where their makeshift picnic remained. The thermos of hot cocoa sat untouched, along with the small spread of treats he'd arranged earlier.
She hesitated for a moment before nodding, allowing him to guide her toward the blanket. They sat side by side.
Hunter poured two cups of hot cocoa and handed one to her.
"You seem lost in thought."
Della sipped the cocoa, letting its warmth spread through her. She glanced at him, unsure how to respond. "I suppose I am," she admitted finally. "This place… it feels delusive sometimes."
Hunter leaned back on his hands, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "It has that effect. It's like the world stops, and all that matters is the sound of the waves and the feel of the sand."
She smiled faintly, her fingers tightening around the cup. "And yet, I feel like I don't belong here."
He turned to her. "Why do you say that?"
Della hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I don't know. Not sure."
His gaze sharpened, and for a moment, she thought he might press her, demand an explanation. But instead, he softened, tilting his head as if to study her.
"Sometimes," he said quietly, "we don't realise we're exactly where we're meant to be, even if it doesn't feel that way at first."
Della looked down at her hands, her heart pounding in her chest.
After a long pause, she stood, brushing the sand from her dress. "I think I'll head inside. Thank you… for tonight. It was lovely."
Hunter rose as well, nodding. "Good night, Emily."
"Good night," she murmured, turning quickly to walk toward the house.
She didn't look back, but she could feel his eyes on her as she disappeared into the shadows of the beach house. Della closed the master's bedroom door behind her, leaning against it with a sigh.