Alicia Martinez is determined to keep a low profile. After a tough year, she deletes all of her social media and retreats to the small coastal town of St Andrews in the hopes of starting over - and avoiding her tumultuous past.
Oliver Hogarth is a...
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Alicia walked out of the courthouse.
The August sunshine warmed her bare legs. Heat seemed to radiate off the grey pavement, rising up in shimmering clouds of sweat and expectation. London commuters rushed by, brown satchels slapping rhythmically against their thighs. The air smelled like gasoline and freshly cut grass.
And there, standing at the bottom of the courthouse steps, was Oliver.
He looked up as she approached, a smile creeping over his face. His hair — now back to its sandy blond color — seemed to glow in the late afternoon sun. A suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, and he was holding a bouquet of white flowers.
"Hi, gorgeous."
She collapsed into his arms. "It's finally over. Thank god."
"And?"
"I'm not sure." Alicia nibbled her lip. "The judge hasn't decided yet. But Greg and his lawyer weren't looking very confident towards the end."
"Good." Oliver's grip tightened on her waist. "I don't want that bastard within ten feet of you ever again." His paused, looking at her hopefully. "Actually, how would you feel about having your own bodyguard? Or better yet, a team of bodyguards?"
"Bad."
He sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."
She pulled back, meeting his blue eyes. "You know what, though?"
"What?"
"Regardless of how it all ends, I'm pretty damn proud of myself. For standing up and facing him. For finally putting an end to all of it." She shook her head. "A year ago, I never thought I'd be able to do it."
He kissed her forehead. "That's my girl."
Alicia took a step back, and Oliver offered her the bouquet. She studied the flowers — five soft white petals with a honey-yellow center — and smiled. "Star jasmine?"
"Well, I know that you like your stars."
"They're beautiful."
He winked. "Just like—"
"If you say you, Ollie, I swear I'll never speak to you again."
"Well," Oliver said dryly, slinging an arm over her shoulder, "I'm not going to finish that sentence, then."
They slid into an idling sedan. Brooks was already sitting in the passenger seat, wearing his usual leather jacket and holster. He lifted up his dark sunglasses, meeting her eyes in the rear-view mirror. "Hattie told me about the qualifiers for the Ladies Junior Open." He grinned. "Congratulations, Leese."
She flushed. "Thanks."
Alicia was going to kill Hattie. Kill her. She had phoned her friend a few days ago with the news, telling her — discreetly — that she had been accepted into the qualifiers in January. Hattie had sworn to secrecy, hung up the phone, and then proceeded to text absolutely everyone they knew with the news.
