Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I press my lips together for a moment before answering him. “Last night at work was hard. And I’m not afraid of hard work. I can do hard things. And I don’t hate the job.”
“Okay, stop. What happened?”
“People are just…horrible. Mean to service workers. Rude. Not the locals so much as the tourists. And not all tourists, of course.”
I break off when he just raises his eyebrows, and I let out a gusty sigh.
“I need the job. And most of the time, I like it. I love my coworkers. But man, there are just shifts when it almost sucks the soul right out of me. It left me unsettled, and I didn’t sleep much last night, so that’s probably why I’m extra moody about it all this morning.”
“If you could do anything for a living, and I do mean anything, what would it be?”
I blink in surprise. “I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”
“So, think about it. What would you do?”
“I’d paint. If money was no issue and I could do anything? I’d make art.”
His lips tip up into a smile.
“What is that look?”
“I don’t know if you realize this, but I happen to own an art gallery. Why don’t you give me a couple pieces, and I’ll hang them. I’m sure they’d sell.”
“I’m not ready for that.”
I turn to walk away, but he takes me by the elbow, stopping me.
“Wait. I’ve seen your work, Sarah. If you painted some seascapes, or anything for that matter, I know I could sell them for you. I won’t even take a commission.”
“That doesn’t seem right.”
Now his eyes flash with something that looks like anger.
“Are you always this resistant when people want to help you, or is it just with me?”
“I’m not trying to irritate you. Look, for a long ass time, help came with strings. So, it’s an automatic response now to simply say no thank you, because I don’t want to owe anyone anything. When payback time comes, it’s usually something I can’t, or don’t want to, give.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” he says, and I believe him. “And I get that it’s a gut reaction, but if I offer to help, it’s because I want to. Not because I want something in return. Unless…”
“Unless?”
He smirks. “Unless you had the inclination to show me your boobs or something. No pressure, though.”
“Ah, sexual favors.” I nod knowingly and then laugh. “For you? Not a problem.”
“Think about it,” he urges. “I’d love to hang your work in my gallery. It would be an honor.”
“You’re sweet.” I step to him again, and his arms come around me. We don’t speak for a while, but rather, we just stand here, wrapped up in each other, listening to the waves.
“Have you ever noticed that the water sounds like music?” He begins to rock back and forth in a sweet dance that makes me smile against his chest.
“I’ve noticed.” I close my eyes and soak it all in. The magical sound of the waves, the heat of the man I love against me, and the gentle rocking as Tanner dances me over the sand.
The water tickles my feet as his hand moves to my side, and then the other to my right hand, and we’re standing in a classical dance pose, moving on the beach. I can’t take my eyes from his as our bodies, pressed together from stomach to knee, sway side to side, in a slow circle.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” He presses his lips to my forehead, and I know without a doubt, in this moment, I’ve never felt so treasured. So loved.
So necessary to another.
It’s a moment I’ll never forget.
Suddenly, the waves crash farther up on the sand, engulfing us up to our knees, and we laugh as we hurry out of the way.
“Thank you for the dance.” I take his hand as we walk back toward home. “It was a really great way to start the day. But now I have to get ready for work.”
“Work? But you worked late last night.”
I shrug a shoulder. “Yeah, well, I’m on breakfast duty this morning. Is it okay if Petunia stays at your place today so she can watch the water?”
“Of course. When I picked her up yesterday, she clung to me, as if she were extra lonely.”
“Oh.” My eyes fill with tears, and I’m immediately racked with guilt. “My poor baby.”
“Hey, she’s fine. Honest. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He frowns down at me. “She’s got the good life.”
“I know.” I nod and brush away a tear. “I just miss her. I don’t get to see her as much as I should. Maybe I shouldn’t have adopted her. It’s not fair to her.”
“Okay, you need to stop it,” he says, shaking his head. “Petunia is as happy as it gets. Anyone can see that she’s way better off than she was before you came into her life. I think you need a day off, pretty girl.”