Chapter Twenty-Six
Quinn
T he next morning, I find Bram up early making breakfast for us. He smiles tentatively, showcasing his dimples through his morning scruff. My heart trips over itself. He really does have a nice smile.
“Good morning.” I glance around. “What’s all this?”
He places the lid back on the pan and strides toward me. “Good morning, birthday girl,” he replies as he wraps his strong arms around me, pulling me into his warm embrace.
I lean into his touch, wrapping my arms around his waist. It’s the first real show of affection he’s given me without an audience. My heart thumps wildly, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. I keep my head tucked into his chest, afraid of what will happen if I lift my gaze.
It’s over all too soon. As he drops his arms, I finally meet his eyes. They’re soft and a beautiful shade of gray-blue, like the ocean after a storm. He smiles and tugs me toward the stove.
“We have fresh eggs, biscuits, and bacon,” he says, motioning his hand toward the counter.
“Wow. This looks amazing, Bram.” I glance up at him, a smile on my lips. “Thank you.”
“I have more planned for today.” He winks.
“What? Why?”
“Because it’s your birthday.”
I lift a shoulder. “Yeah, but you didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
His eyes turn serious as he grasps my shoulders. He stares at me for a long, weighted moment before moving his hands to cup my face. “Quinn, you deserve to have a wonderful birthday. Something special.” Pausing, he adds softly, “You deserve everything good.”
I bite my lip, tears filling my eyes. I try not to let them fall, but a rebellious one escapes, trailing down my cheek.
Bram frowns, his thumb wiping it away. “Why are you crying, Q?” His voice is quiet and soothing.
“I-I . . .” I pause and shrug, suddenly embarrassed. “I’m not sure. I just”—inhaling deeply, I continue— “it’s just been a long time since anyone has taken care of me.”
His eyes soften, the tender look sending shivers down my spine. “Quinn, I promise I will always take care of you.” He presses a tender kiss on my forehead. “Always.” His lips move to the corner of my mouth, his nose brushing against mine. Bram lingers there a moment, his warm breath tickling my skin and making me ache to lean back into him. All too soon he’s dropping his hands and withdrawing his touch.
Bram clears his throat. “Okay, everything’s ready. Let’s grab our plates and we’ll discuss the itinerary for today. But” —he holds up a finger, his eyes lit with excitement— “I’m not telling you everything. There are a few surprises in store for you today, Mrs. Baxter.”
My gaze darts between Bram and the surfboard as he talks through the basic surf lingo, but I can’t seem to focus on his words. I blame it on the fact that he shed his shirt five minutes ago and his abs and side abs—yes, ladies, they do exist. Who knew?—keep drawing my attention.
The dumbest thing about the entire situation? I’ve seen Bram without a shirt countless times over the years. It’s kind of hard not to when you live on the coast and spend a lot of time at the beach.
Yet his shirtlessness—is that a word?—has never distracted me before. I know he has a physical job and he surfs, but holy moly, Abraham Baxter has abs. So many abs.
Suddenly, my mind starts playing a very different—and totally inappropriate—version of the Father Abraham song we sing with the kids in Sunday school.
“Q?”
Jerking my gaze back to his face, heat spreads across my chest. He raises a quizzical brow in my direction.
“Hmm?”
“I want you to practice on the board,” he repeats.
I give a shaky nod, and we spend the next twenty minutes taking turns with Bram demonstrating and then me attempting to recreate his movements. I’ve never considered myself a clumsy person until now. Again, I blame it on the abs. My lack of them—after all, it takes a lot of ab muscles to go from lying to a standing position on a board—and Bram’s abundance of them—because, hello! Distracting with a capital D .
“Are you ready to get in the water?”
“Yep,” I squeak out. Inhaling a deep breath, I attempt to steady my voice. “Yeah. I think so.” I am pretty excited to try it. I’d just gotten the courage to begin surfing lessons right before Dad had been killed. Then after that, my entire life had been placed on hold, and it hadn’t been anywhere near my radar.
Bram smiles his dimpled grin. Oh, I am beginning to really like those dimples.
We wade into the water until it’s just above my waist. Bram demonstrates several times how to get on and stand while in the water. I’m beginning to regret the decision to take surfing lessons from Bram because watching his fluid movements on and off the board is doing nothing to squelch the growing sensations inside of me.
Goodness, I am attracted to my husband. Extremely attracted.
Before I can blink he’s beside me in the water, one hand on the board to keep it in place. He shakes his head, causing ringlets of water to fly everywhere.
“You ready to give it a go?” He grins at me.
I bite my lip, trying to ignore Bram’s soaking-wet body right beside me, and recall what I need to do to get on the board. My first attempt is met with a face full of water. I come up sputtering while Bram chuckles. Tossing him a glare, I try again. This time I manage to keep my balance, though the execution is not graceful.
“Good job. Now, remember, don’t look down. Keep your head straight and use your arms to lift your chest off the board. Then, when you’re ready, bring your left foot in front of your body and move your right foot until you can stand.”
He pats my upper leg. A very that-a-girl-pat. It doesn’t change the way my leg ignites as if it’s on fire from that simple, innocent touch. Until I realize his hand is still resting there and his thumb is stroking my skin, causing goosebumps to erupt all over.
My gaze drags from his hand to his eyes. Smiling softly, he breaks the spell when he pats me again. “You can do it, Q.”
For a moment, I wonder what he’s talking about. Surfing? Or losing my heart to him?
I’m not sure about the former. But I’m pretty sure the latter is already beginning to happen.
Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself to stand on the board, praying I don’t fall too hard.
In more ways than one.