Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“I really don’t,” Elle answers with frank sincerity. “I don’t fit in with your fancy crowd anyway. I just thought you wanted to go, so I did. Plus, I got to see you dressed up.” Her eyes crease at the corners. “I also made you blush, so in my opinion the night’s already peaked.”
Instant scowl.
The girl knows how to push my buttons.
“I did not blush,” I grind out.
“Oh? You took one look at me and turned into a human raspberry.” Her smile softens and she sighs. “I know you think I’m pretty, August. It’s okay. It doesn’t have to be a thing. It’s just one friend flattering another, and I’m all about the flattery.”
I exhale deeply, annoyed that she’s already won me over.
“You have absolutely no shame, do you?”
“Teeny bit.” She squeezes my hand and lifts the other to pinch her fingers together, barely a micron apart.
This woman is going to drive me out of my ever-loving mind.
I lift my head and look at the privacy divider. It’s open just a crack, so he can hear when I call, “Merrick?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Turn at the next light. Take us home.”
“Are we dropping Miss Lark off along the way?” Merrick reaches back to push the divider open enough to meet my eyes in the rearview mirror.
“No,” I answer, looking down at the little wretch still tucked cozily in the crook of my arm, as if she does this every day. “No, we’re not.”
Elle grins with a pleased wiggle, burrowing against me.
I have no idea what’s going on here.
Still, I don’t push her away as Rick changes lanes and takes a sharp turn back toward my little hidden slice of Alki Beach.
The quiet is different then.
Peaceful.
It shouldn’t feel so comfortable sitting with Elle like this, but it is.
It’s easy to slip into idle thoughts, watching the streetlights pass and cars flowing past us, casually aware of how well she fits against me.
She’ll make a place for herself no matter where she goes, and suddenly it’s like she’s belonged there this whole time.
When Merrick pulls into the small paved lot just off the street in front of my house, I’m almost reluctant to let her go.
He waits patiently while I guide Elle out of the car—and instead of trying to navigate carrying the train of her dress, I just sweep her up in my arms, looping the hem of the dress over my shoulder.
Elle yelps, then laughs, clutching at my jacket.
“You are getting way too used to carrying me around.”
“You hardly weigh more than a feather. It’s easy.” I exchange a brief nod with Merrick and turn to carry her down to the beach and the scattered path of planks leading to my walkway over the water. “You’d have sunk right into the sand in these heels anyway.”
“Fair point.” Elle pauses, lifting her head and looking up at the night sky. Her eyes close, and an expression of guilty pleasure settles over her face. Soft gold wisps blow loosely over her brow. “Hey, just stay here a minute. It smells nice.”
I stop, standing there awkwardly, until her expression draws me back.
Watching her experience the night like she’s never smelled the Pacific breeze before. I wonder how long it’s been since I stopped to notice it myself.
Yes. I smell that coolness, that crispness, that hint of something like mint and spice, brine and sweet night air.
More than anything, I smell apples.
Her.
Her scent radiates through me like I could cradle her inside me.
Yet I can’t even cradle her in my arms for long because I blink, and there’s a wriggling bundle against my chest. Knocked out of my reverie, I open my eyes to find Elle squirming forward to hike her dress up and pull at her heels.
I should be used to how spontaneous she is by now.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Taking my shoes off. You’re right. They’ll sink in the sand.” She flashes me a wicked smile. “Put me down and come on.”
I know better than to question her at this point.
I wait until she’s done yanking her strappy heels off, then set her down on her feet. She immediately drops her shoes and gathers the skirt of her dress up like she’s stuffing a load of laundry into her grip, ungainly and eager.
Somehow she goes from ethereal to adorable in two seconds flat.
“Take your shoes off,” she orders. The night is in her eyes until blue and hazel war with each other like candles in the sea. “Let’s go!”
I have no idea what she’s planning.
Not until she goes racing across the pale, gritty sand toward the rolling waves. Her slender feet leave prints behind her.
I stare after her. “Elle, hold up, that’s freezing—”
Wasted breath.
With a shake of my head and a sigh, I bend down to pry my dress shoes and socks off, leaving them next to hers. Just for good measure I take off my jacket, cummerbund, and the neck band as well, dropping them in a pile.