Chapter 31
Gracie
“Well, that was awesome!” I’m practically bouncing in the passenger seat, and I’m not a bouncer. I’m calm and methodical and measured.
But not when I’m with Hunter. Somehow, the time we spend together has me reaching into a reservoir of joy I didn’t know existed. I’m the girl who always has a plan, always knows where she’s going.
And today, I’m also the girl who got up on a stand-up paddleboard and rowed out to sea next to a hot athlete and made out with him on the sand afterward. I like this version of me.
Now we’re parking again, this time at the Malibu Lagoon, which seems to be mainly a destination for bird-watchers and nature lovers. Hunter introduces me to a ranger after he finishes pointing out a good birding area to a couple of parents and their little kids.
“This is Gracie. She’s new to town, and I thought she oughtta know about this place,” Hunter says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the sculpted marine habitat where signs explain the preservation efforts underway.
“Glad to have you, Gracie. Hunter’s got a good eye for spotting some of our shyer species, so stick with him.”
“I plan to.” I tip my head against Hunter’s shoulder, and he wraps his hand around mine. It feels natural to be with him like this.
Like a girlfriend.
I don’t know if that’s what I am, but maybe I could be. I’m not sure if Hunter “does” girlfriends or relationships. But I’m okay not knowing.
The ranger, a guy our age with a full, dark beard, round glasses, and a parks service badge around his neck, fishes into a gear box and retrieves two pairs of binoculars and a laminated list of birds, complete with photos.
“You’ll see a lot of these.” He points at a crane and a sandpiper on the sheet and then tips his head toward a flock of them on the wet sand. “But lemme know if you spot any nests in the grasslands. We need to mark those.”
“Sure thing,” Hunter says, taking the binoculars. I grab the birding guide, and we walk toward a grassy area where the tide is rolling in.
“We looking for nests?” I point at the grassy areas.
“Yup. Where there are nests, there are often really cool mama birds keeping their eggs warm. And like he said, they need to be marked and cordoned off so they don’t get trampled.”
I press my lips together to keep from smiling when he calls them “mama birds.” The sun warms the back of my neck as we poke along in the waving grasses, submerged in ankle-deep water.
“I’m getting the impression that today’s theme is getting wet,” I say as my flip-flops squelch in the wet sand.
Hunter leans close, his short beard grazing my cheek when he growls against my ear. “If this is getting you wet, I’ll consider my work today done.”
My skin blazes at the suggestion, and a jolt hits my core. If I wasn’t wet before, I am now. “Um, I…” I sputter.
“Good,” Hunter whispers before kissing my cheek. I look around to see if anyone notices him being openly affectionate. Even if he doesn’t seem concerned, I am. Not interested in being a part of some beach bunny’s social media post.
We’re all but alone in a section of sand and grass, so I relax.
Hunter grabs my hand and puts a finger to his lips.
He points, and we tread softly toward an area in the sandy grass where he indicates I should use my binoculars.
He does the same, and we zoom in on two birds with blue plumage fussing around three minuscule babies in a small nest.
He squeezes my hand as we stand silently, taking this miracle of nature.
I’m dying to ask how he knew where to look, but I don’t dare disturb the birds.
We watch for a good five minutes as the birds communicate with each other, one plodding through the grass while the other feeds the hatchlings, beak to beak.
Hunter taps my shoulder and indicates the shore behind us. I nod, and we silently back away from the birds.
“That was amazing,” I say.
Hunter’s voice is low, and I can barely hear him over the lapping waves a hundred feet away, so I lean closer. “You might be sensing a theme…all of my favorite LA places are about perspective. Getting away from the crowds and finding a little peace.”
“I’m glad you figured out a way to do that. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“Aw, Gracie, it’s my pleasure. We all need a little peace, don’t we?”
Hunter wraps an arm around my shoulders, and we stroll along the sand, every so often raising our binoculars to track a bird in the air or zoom in on another grassy area with potential for babies.
I can’t help feeling like I’ve found my little bit of peace right here. With him.
Our day ends with a casual seafood dinner at a spot I’d never have noticed without Hunter pointing it out as we continued north on the highway.
We stopped at a beach club on the way so we could shower and change, so I’m now wearing the outfit I chose earlier, before I knew where we’d go to dinner.
I’ve ditched the tee and shorts for a yellow cotton sundress with spaghetti straps and a fitted bodice, and the flip-flops have given way to sandals.
The beach club was stocked with every imaginable hair and skin product, so I feel halfway decent sitting across from Hunter, whose tanned skin glows and his dark, damp hair is perfectly tousled, as usual. I don’t think he could look bad if he tried.
We’re sitting against the railing of the restaurant patio, which is empty except for our table overlooking the ocean.
The view is spectacular, a wide stripe of dark blue beneath the orange rays of the setting sun.
I swear, Hunter must have timed our afternoon down to the minute because we arrived here about fifteen minutes before sunset, and we’ve been sitting here watching the light fade from the sky ever since.
“Why isn’t half of LA clambering for a table here? This place is going on my top ten list.”
“Yeah, you have a top ten list?” His interest piques at the opportunity to get information, and he breaks his gaze from the ocean.
“I’m making it as we speak. Best hidden gems in LA.”
“What else is on the list?”
Our server brings over a bottle of wine I don’t think we ordered. Hunter nods at the label, and the wine is opened and poured. “Did you order this?”
“No, but I trust them. Been coming here a long time.”
Our server watches Hunter taste the wine.
He’s appropriately friendly, reciting a few tasting notes and waiting for Hunter to nod in approval before filling our glasses.
But something about his manner intrigues me.
He seems nervous like he’s at a job audition or like he’ll be rated at the end of the meal.
He leaves without a word, and once again, we’re wrapped in the sound of ocean waves and solitude.
“Thanks for letting me be your sidekick today.”
Hunter holds up his glass. “Are you kidding? It was my pleasure. You are rapidly becoming my favorite sidekick.”
I hold up mine. “To my favorite tour guide.”
“Who knew, right? After all these years.”
Our hands brush with the musical clink of crystal, and Hunter’s eyes lock on mine.
I’m mesmerized as he brings the glass to his lips and sips.
His tongue moves inside his mouth as he swirls the liquid before swallowing it down.
His Adam’s apple works in his throat, and I’ve never seen something so hot in my life.
Hunter stares at me for so long that I’m almost afraid to drink my wine under his intense gaze. “Everything okay?” I ask, finally.
He nods. “Everything is great. But…I feel like I need to be honest about something.” He inhales a deep breath and looks up.
“This seems dire.”
“No, not at all. I…this isn’t a new feeling for me, wanting to be with you. I’ve always had a thing for you, Gracie. Always.”
“You mean…?”
“Back when we were younger and you used to come home from college. I was crushing hard and totally intimidated.”
I grin and reach for his hand. “I had a thing for you too.”
“Yeah?”
I nod.
“And now?”
“Better than I ever imagined.”
“So much better.” He takes a long sip of his wine. Then he holds up the glass, looking at the liquid like he has a lot to think about. When he puts the glass down, his eyes return to my face, and his smile spreads wide. “You were worth the fucking wait.” His eyebrows bounce above a wolfish grin.
I smile and try to drink my wine. The first sip goes down easily, but when I look up at the molten heat flaring in his eyes, a shiver rolls over my skin. He looks like he wants to devour me.
I could easily let him.
“So I feel like maybe you like this place?” He can’t keep the satisfied smile off his lips.
Leaning back in his chair, he picks up his wineglass and surveys our surroundings.
Small tables set with simple white tablecloths and blue flowered napkins.
The chairs are bamboo and blue wicker, making them look like they belong on a café patio in Paris.
A vintage-looking crystal chandelier sheds enough light from its dimmed bulbs to allow us to see each other.
And a small candle burning in the center of each table adds romance without detracting from the real star of the show—the ocean lapping just beyond the sand and the moon already hanging high in the sky.
A light breeze filters through the open spaces above the painted wooden railing.
“I like it a lot,” I say, playing with my menu, which is a single sheet of paper clipped to a stiff board. “What do you feel like eating?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes my hand across the table and leans in. “You.” His voice crackles like electricity in the damp air.
I feel a full-body shiver as my focus goes hazy. I can’t help chomping down on my lip.
Reaching over, Hunter frees it with his index finger and runs the pad of his thumb over my trembling lip. “But I intend to feed you first.”
His eyes are so dark I can barely see his pupils, so I nod, hating how easily he can unnerve me. And loving it equally.