Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bram
P ride swirls in my chest as I watch Quinn hop onto the board for the dozenth time. She’s pluckier than I’ve given her credit for, and the more she falls off, the more determined she seems to stick her landing.
Her hair is in a long braid that hangs down her back, and the swimsuit she wears is doing nothing to slow down my racing heart. The red one-piece suit with white polka dots is modest with a retro vibe that suits her. It’s the little built-in skirt that keeps drawing my eyes to where it ends on her thighs that’s the problem. I can’t seem to keep my gaze from trailing over her lightly tanned legs.
We’ve been on the beach together plenty of times, but not like this. Not as a husband and wife. I stare as a droplet of water makes a path from her forehead down until it rests on the bow of her lips. I have an overwhelming urge to lean over and kiss it off.
Even the thought causes heat to spread over my chest and up my neck. Quinn’s beauty radiates out of everything she does, and I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before. Watching her now, I can honestly say she’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. So much of her radiance comes from within, including the way she treats others. Or the way her eyes brighten when she’s laughing.
I love her laugh. It lifts my spirits each time I hear it.
Quinn lets out a loud yelp, breaking me from my thoughts, as she falls off the board straight toward me. I was so lost in thought that I was not prepared to catch her. It all happens in slow motion. Her arms swing wildly as she tries to regain balance. My arms shoot out in a feeble attempt to keep her from going under. I try to plant my feet more firmly on the ocean floor, but my heels slip forward and out from under me just as Quinn’s body hits mine, and we both go under.
Instead of inhaling a breath of air, ocean water floods my lungs. Quinn scrambles toward the surface, grabbing my arm and dragging me up with her. I break the water sputtering and coughing as I try to catch a breath. Tears sting my eyes, and my nose burns from the salty water. After a moment—and a lot of coughing up seawater—I finally feel like I can breathe again. Quinn is standing right in front of me, her brow lined with concern.
“Are you okay, Bram?” She presses even closer, placing a hand on my face. “You scared me.”
The light touch of her hand on my cheek sends warmth spreading through my veins. I run my thumb along the creases of her forehead, wanting to smooth them out and ease the concern from her face. I swear I hear her gasp softly at the touch.
“I’m okay,” I say in a low voice, my gaze locking with hers. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch you.”
A shy smile plays at her lips, her hand still pressed to my face. “It’s okay. You didn’t have to catch me.”
I dip my head lower until our lips are almost touching, our warm breaths mingling together. It’s intoxicating. Quinn is intoxicating. “I will always catch you, sunshine.”
“Hey, mister! Your board is getting away,” a small voice calls out from the shore, causing us to jump apart.
Quinn’s face turns bright red, and I’m sure mine matches with the way it heats up. Had we been about to kiss? My thoughts are all over the place as my gaze lands on my board, which has indeed drifted several feet away.
After collecting the board, I turn to find Quinn making her way to the beach. I sigh, disappointed our moment was interrupted. That’s what I get for not replacing my surfboard leash when it broke last week.
By the time I make it back to shore, Quinn has wrapped herself in a cover-up and is checking her phone. I grab a towel and quickly dry off my torso before throwing my shirt on and sitting down beside her. She’s got her diabetic app open and worry wraps around my heart.
“Are you feeling okay?”
She inclines her head, a small smile on her lips. “Yeah. I’m fine, but I should probably get something to eat.”
We gather our things and stroll back to the cottage in silence. After a small lunch where we avoid one another’s gazes and hardly speak, I decide it’s time to tell her what our next activity for the day is. Hopefully, this will get us out of the awkwardness we’re in at the moment.
“Are you feeling up for more fun?”
Her eyes light up as she bites back a smile. “What? Almost drowning in your back yard wasn’t enough excitement for one day?”
“You mean our back yard?”
She bites her bottom lip, and I’m instantly thrown back to a few moments ago when we were in the ocean, her wet body pressed against mine. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t hesitate to capture her lips with my own.
“Our back yard,” she rectifies with a shy smile.
Clearing my throat, I say, “As much fun as this morning was, I think you might like the next thing even better.”
Placing her elbow on the table, she rests her chin on her hand. “Even better, huh? And what exactly do you have planned next, Abraham?” She smiles playfully, her eyes twinkling.
Something about her bubbly smile and the way she says my full name has my throat going dry. Good heavens. Is Quinn flirting with me?
I mimic her position, dropping my voice lower as I inch closer to her. “I think you’re just going to have to trust me on this one.”
She purses her lips, her eyes narrowing.
“Do you trust me?”
Her eyes flick across my face. “More than anything,” she whispers.
I grin. “Put on some old clothes and let’s go.”
Quinn covers her mouth, trying to hold in a snort as she stares at the painting of a dolphin swimming in a sunset-covered ocean.
I glance at my painting and then back at Quinn. “What?”
She shakes her head, still holding her hand over her mouth.
“Come on, Q. It’s not that bad.”
“Umm . . . what is it?” She manages to ask without laughing, even if her eyes are still dancing.
“You mean you can’t tell?” I look at my canvas. Sure, it’s not amazing, but it’s obvious what it is.
“Is it a dog dying in lava? Because that’s a bit morbid for a birthday date, Bram.” Another snort erupts from her, and her hand flies up to cover her mouth again.
“A dog? Dying in lava? That’s what you got from this?” Laughter rumbles in my chest.
Cocking her head to the side, she gives the canvas another appraisal. Breathing out a half laugh, half sigh, she says, “I’m sorry, Bram. It’s in my head now and that’s all I can see.”
I shake my head dramatically, making a tsking sound. “And you call yourself an artist? How can you not see that this is a dolphin in the ocean?”
One eyebrow shoots up. “A dolphin?” she asks hesitantly. “In the ocean?”
“Yup.”
“But why does the ocean look like lava?”
“It’s supposed to be reflecting the beautiful orange and red sunset,” I reply in a serious tone.
“Oh,” she draws out, her eyes widening. She’s getting ready to burst out laughing again.
“I think I’m going to give it to the housing center when we’re done with their remodels,” I deadpan.
This time she throws her head back and laughs so loud that the other couple in the class sends us scathing looks. I don’t care. I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than Quinn laughing while she wears speckles of paint in her hair and a bright blue streak on her cheek.
I press a hand to my heart. “Oh, wife, you wound me.”
Her laughter stops, her lips still pulled up in the corner. “Maybe you should stick with building things instead of painting them, husband .”
Chuckling, I lean toward her. “Let me see yours, then we can judge which is better.” I know hers will be. She’d been an exceptional artist in high school. That was before her dad passed. I’m not even sure she’s painted since. Which makes me all the more thankful that she seems to be enjoying herself now.
She bites her lip. “It’s not the best.”
I stand and move behind her. Coconut infiltrates my senses, and I shift a little closer to get a whiff before focusing on the painting.
“Quinn, it’s amazing,” I say with genuine awe in my voice.
She shrugs. “It’s simple. I’m a little rusty. "
“You think that is simple?” I point to the way she’s used various shades to build shadows and lighting.
Turning her head toward me, she replies dryly, “It’s a pie, Bram.”
I hate that she can’t see how awesome her work is. True, it is a pie sitting on a table. The background is a simple black and gray. But the shadowing and lighting draw your eye to the pie in an appealing way. It’s almost as if you can smell the fragrance wafting from the pie itself. She’d even added little wisps of steam.
“It’s beautiful.”
Her gaze flickers to the painting and then back to me. Biting her lip, she asks in a quiet voice, “You think so?”
I allow my eyes to trail her face slowly before locking eyes with her. “I know so.”