4. Chapter 4 The Perfect First Date #3
"Oh, uh…" I swallow on my dry throat. "I thought you were talking about the crystal. "I point down."
Gabriel's gaze follows the movement of my hand and his eyes glow with victory as he reaches out with the hammer and trowel. He works carefully along the edges the way I showed him earlier, loosening the stone around the crystal instead of just whacking at it.
When it comes free, he brushes dirt away with his thumb.
He holds it out to me on his palm.
"It’s imperfect," he says. "But it still sparkles."
My throat tightens.
"That’s the best kind," I say, and it comes out husky.
Imperfect but sparkly makes for a good friend, but Gabriel could have a diamond with perfect clarity for a woman he would kiss.
I take the crystal from his palm.
Our fingers brush.
It’s such a small thing. Skin against skin for less than a second. But it’s like touching a live wire. Heat arcs up my hand, along my arm, straight to somewhere low and private that clenches in response.
I suck in a breath and cringe at my inability to hide my reaction.
His jaw flexes.
Did I embarrass him showing my neediness with that indrawn breath?
"Careful," I say, because I need to say something, anything. "You’ll get me addicted to this friendship if you keep handing me rocks like that."
His mouth curves slowly. "That is precisely my intention, juwayhira."
I sit back on my heels to steady myself, clutching the crystal like a talisman. That nickname holds so much meaning from my past.
Even more so now.
And none of it is the meaning my heart is already starting to crave.
My whole body is awake in a way I didn’t know it could be. Hyperaware. Every brush of air on my skin, every tiny sound around us, all of it amplified.
The part of me that spent years trying not to be seen wants very badly to be seen by this one man.
And he does see me.
Just not the way I want him to. But then why would he? Flawed crystal, right?
No diamonds here.
By the time the sun starts sliding down the sky, the horizon fading from blue to pink to purple, my pack is half-full of potential and my energy reserves are a confusing mix of tired muscles and buzzing nerves.
We head back, drinking water from his pack.
Thinking of how quickly he mastered the art of finding crystals, I ask, "Is there anything you’re not competent at once you put your mind to it?"
He considers. "I am not good at resting."
That, I believe. "That's not exactly a skill."
"Isn't it?" he asks.
"You don’t have hobbies?" I ask, trying to understand. "Fun things you do just because you want to?"
"I’m here, am I not?" he says.
But he's not resting. "So, you don't just sit and read sometimes, or go out into the desert and soak in the quiet?"
"No."
His answer doesn't surprise me, but I laugh anyway, because it does amuse me. "Maybe you should."
"Maybe you will show me how, as you have shown me how to find rock specimens."
"We can become reading buddies," I tease.
"Perhaps go into the desert and enjoy the beauty of my home buddies."
"I'd have to go to Zahriya for that to happen," I say wistfully.
I've never been further from Santa Fe than Seattle, Washington to visit my sister.
He gestures at the hillside, the rock, the open sky. "This reminds me of home."
"What’s it like?" Zahriya the country that spawned this magnificent man.
He’s quiet for a moment.
"Hot," he says finally. "Bright. The mountains can be harsh and unforgiving, but they are beautiful. The same could be said of our desert, Sahra al-Harir. But there is a place of true beauty between them both. Ayn al-Hayat is an oasis that gives succor to all who dwell there."
"Including you?" I guess.
"Yes. I live in the royal palace there."
"It sounds magical."
"One day you will see it and you will have to tell me if you find it so."
One day you will see it. Not one day I might see it. This man is so certain of his future and apparently mine too.
"You will like the stables. Our horses will become dear to you just as those at Solace Ridge are."
My heart gives a funny little jump. "You think so?"
"I know so," he says simply.
I look away, out over the canyon, where the last light is turning the rocks to bronze.
I shouldn’t let myself picture it: me, in some impossibly far-off oasis, with a palace and stables. And a man with dark eyes who looks at me like I’m more than a supporting character in my own life.
I’ve spent years building a small, safe world I can manage. Books and horses and children and rocks and a few good friends who see me.
Asking for this man to join them in seeing the real me and wanting what he sees? That's asking too much.
"Thank you," I say softly.
"For what?" he asks.
"For…today. It’s been the best rockhounding trip I’ve had in a long time."
"You’re welcome, Juliana," he says. "It won’t be the last. We will find the best places to search for your crystals in my homeland."
If only that could be true.
But even if a prince does want to become my friend, he'll never have the time to go rockhounding with me in his own country. Assuming I got up the nerve to travel there, which is not likely.
Not when I still haven't worn the pink dress outside a changing room.