“I was confused,” she began. “You weren’t the guy she warned me about. You were the guy she hoped I’d meet—the one who loves me as much as she did.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Five weeks later…
PIERCE AND REBECCA arrived at Punta Allen just before sunset and settled into their beachfront cabana. Punta Allen was a small Mayan fishing village at the end of the Boca Paila peninsula. With fewer than five hundred residents and only one way in or out, the village didn’t need much to maintain its population. Punta Allen was on the opposite end of the luxury spectrum from the resorts Pierce owned and was used to, but even though the village was run by two generators that ran for three hours only in the morning and seven hours in the evening, from the moment they stepped onto the white sandy beach, he felt as though they’d found the most romantic spot on earth.
The cabana was made of concrete, with two columns out front supporting a roof over a small patio area—minus the patio. An inviting white hammock hung from the columns, and although the cabana was built on the beach, there were pockets of verdant foliage with long spiky leaves and full spiny bushes. Tall palm trees made the simple, one-room cabana feel like it was on an island by itself.
Rebecca’s hair was piled on her head in the messy bun he loved so much. Quintessential Rebecca style—thrown up in a hurry with a few tendrils falling in gentle waves around her face. She looked sexy as hell. While she unpacked, he went into the small bathroom with a suitcase that contained her mother’s urn and the items he needed to open it. When Rebecca was ready to spread the ashes, he wanted it to be easy for her. Removing the lid was no easy feat—or so he’d been told—and he didn’t want her to become upset if she had trouble. They’d talked about it ahead of time, and Rebecca had been relieved that he offered.
He set the urn on the sink and dipped a Q-tip into fingernail polish remover; then he ran the wet end along the lid to remove the gluing. It took several minutes to clear enough glue away to allow the next step. He used a butter knife to gently pry open the space between the lid and the urn, then repeated the acetone process until the lid finally came off. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of Rebecca. On the trip over, she’d said that she had a surprise for him, and as he held her mother’s urn, he couldn’t fathom that she was thinking of him at all during such an emotional time. He thought of their first date, when she’d told him that her boss at the bar hated how she talked to the customers. He remembered the way she’d unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse and let her hair down as she’d said, I think people come into bars to unload, you know? Talking seemed to help them…
He smiled. That was Rebecca, always thinking of others. She had a heart the size of the moon, a spirit as bright as the sun, and he wanted—God, he wanted—to give her the happy world she deserved.
He found her standing by the screen door, looking out over the beach.
“Are you ready, babe?”
Rebecca had opened up to him so much over the last few weeks, and she’d been sure of her need and readiness to say goodbye to her mother, but Pierce was still worried. Rebecca had insisted that she was ready, and now, as she glanced at her mother’s urn, and her eyes warmed, he saw relief pass over her face. She really was ready.
“Yeah,” she said just above a whisper. “I am.”
She held his hand tightly, rubbing her thumb over his as they carried the urn onto the beach. Her feathery thumb stroking was one of her nervous mannerisms he’d picked up on over the last few weeks, as they’d come to know each other so well that sometimes words weren’t necessary to convey their thoughts. They’d become perfectly in tune to each other with every aspect of their lives, from their work ethics to how they spent their downtime. Pierce had taken to discussing his business ventures with Rebecca. She was like a sponge, listening intently, scribbling notes, and pulling out the information from some secret compartment in her brain weeks later after hashing it over in her mind day after day. She always came back with a unique perspective. Rebecca had a knack for thinking outside the box and conveying her thoughts succinctly. She also had the ability to drive him out of his mind. In the midst of an in-depth conversation, she’d climb onto his lap with a playful smile and lavish him with sensual kisses, while he rattled on about whatever issues they were discussing. She’d kiss his cheeks, his lips, his forehead, nibble his ear, and whisper all the things she wanted to do to him until all his blood rushed south and he couldn’t think past loving her.
The sand was warm beneath their feet as they made their way across the beach toward the dock.
“I can almost see her here, as a little girl, running across the beach toward the dock with her hair hanging in a thick, tangled mass.” Rebecca smiled. She’d been much more relaxed lately, and he assumed some of that came with the settling of her life, but he’d seen other changes that could only be attributed to her believing, really knowing in her heart, that he loved her unconditionally and letting go of all of the lingering worry that she never voiced but he knew she felt—that at any time, her stable, happy life could spiral out of control and she’d lose everything as she’d lost her mother and too many jobs to count. She talked more about her childhood and, thankfully, her mother. Pierce felt as though he knew Magda Rivera, and he desperately wished he could have met the woman who’d raised such a remarkable, loving daughter.
“When was the last time your mother was here?” he asked as they stepped onto the weathered wooden dock that eased over the lagoon like a lonely, forgotten moment.
“I think she was seven. I like it here, Pierce. It feels right being here with you. Thank you.” She wrapped her hand around his biceps and snuggled in close as they neared the end of the dock where the small boat he’d arranged for was waiting.
“I was just thinking the same thing. And wondering if we should buy the entire village.” He flashed a joking smile, and she bumped him teasingly with her shoulder.
“I’m going to stop telling you when I like things if you’re going to offer to buy them all.”
When they were on the plane he’d chartered, she’d said how nice it was, and he’d offered to buy one. He was only half kidding. He’d do anything for Rebecca.
“Don’t ever stop telling me. I’ll try to stop offering, but it’s hard. I want you to be happy.” They sat beneath the palapa roof at the end of the dock with their legs hanging over the turquoise water as it lapped at the pilings. Pierce had always thought that his brothers were his best friends, but in Rebecca he’d found a different type of best friend. He didn’t have to hide or pretend with her. If he was angry, sad, elated, or horny, her love for him was as strong as his was for her—and she called him on his shit and didn’t let him brood over issues that he couldn’t control. He knew without a doubt that whatever they faced, they’d get through it together.
Rebecca rested her head against his shoulder. “All I need to be happy is time with you. Nothing else matters. We could live under a tree in the woods and I’d be happy.”
He knew it was true because he felt the same way. “I’d build you a tree house.”
“Would you wear work boots, cutoff shorts, and no shirt? Because that I could get into.” She placed her hand on his thigh.
Pierce laughed. “You know I would, but then you’d have to wear a little Tarzan and Jane type of getup. Fair’s fair.” He knew she’d do that, too. Rebecca was his every sexual fantasy come true. She was a sensual, passionate woman who knew what she liked and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. From the bedroom to the boardroom, they were perfectly matched.
Rebecca rose to her feet and pulled Pierce up. “Let’s go, Tarzan, before it gets dark and we get lost at sea.”
Pierce helped her into the rowboat and then handed her the urn before climbing in himself. He’d wanted to arrange for a bigger boat, but Rebecca had insisted that her mother was a simple woman and would want a simple sendoff. She didn’t want the noise of a motor or the distraction of luxury.
He rowed them away from the dock. Rebecca sat facing him, with her mother’s urn on her lap, her arms wrapped protectively around it and her bare feet between his.
“Isn’t it weird that we lived in Reno my whole life, but Mom talked about this place so much that it felt like I’d been here? I feel like I’ve come back to a place I loved. In elementary school, kids used to draw pictures of the places they’d gone on vacation. Disney World, camping, their grandparents’ houses. I used to draw pictures of this beach that were based solely on what she’d told me.”
“I think it’s nice that you were close enough to your mom to become so entrenched in someplace she loved. I’m sure she’s smiling down on you now, proud of the woman you are.”
Rebecca dropped her eyes to the urn, and the edges of her lips lifted into a smile. “This is far enough out.”
They were a couple hundred feet from shore. Pierce settled the oars in the boat and placed his hands on Rebecca’s knees. This was one of those times when words weren’t necessary. Emotions sifted over Rebecca’s face. Her soft gaze narrowed, her brow furrowed just a little, and the edges of her mouth pinched tight. In the next breath, all that tension disappeared, and her lips parted. Her eyes remained on the urn, but she placed one delicate hand over Pierce’s and slid her fingertips into his palm.