Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
T here was an isolated strip of sand along Masonboro Island. They’d taken their time getting to the spot and arrived around noon.
The captain slowed the boat and threw the anchor before Sara and Rhys boarded a tiny dinghy to get to shore.
Axel stayed behind with the captain, but she noted the man had given Rhys a two-way radio as well as a picnic basket before their departure.
The basket looked like something off the set of a Hallmark movie, right down to the red-and-white-check cloth artistically draped over the top.
“Walk a bit and eat?”
She stared at him, more than a little taken aback by the thought that Rhys seemed to like this sort of thing. Was it possible? He’d promised no games but— A picnic on a private stretch of beach? “Sounds good.”
They stayed until the sun sank deep into the sky and lit it on fire. The deep purples and reds spread out like a blanket and cast a haze over the homes as they made their way back to the marina.
They’d spent the day strolling along the sand after eating their lunch, and she wasn’t sure what surprised her more. The fact that Rhys hadn’t ordered something from an expensive restaurant like Haven or that he’d actually listened to her when she’d rambled on while decorating his Christmas tree about how she loved the burgers and onion rings from the Cohen’s pier house.
Maybe she was the judgy one when it came to Rhys, but she’d never pictured a billionaire-heir eating paper-wrapped, loaded burgers and agreeing on how awesome they were.
They’d walked for hours. Literally hours. They’d just walked and talked and eventually filled the basket to the brim with seashells she couldn’t bring herself to leave behind. Thankfully angel shells were light, but they’d found a lot of them, and she couldn’t wait to take them to her mother. Her mother loved crafting in the off-season months, and angel shells were her favorite. She’d glue them together and add tiny faces and glitter and pearls and other adornments to make the most beautiful ornaments to sell in the gift shop at the farm.
When she’d told Rhys her reason for gathering them, he’d insisted she get all that she wanted, even going as far as to contact the boat via the radio and have Axel meet them to exchange the full basket for empty buckets to hold them all.
She’d laughed at Rhys’s determination to get her mama perfect shells, and then they competed to find the most before picking up a few sun-bleached welks, lion’s paws and scotch bonnets. She found four palm-sized sand dollars, a few smaller ones, and a tiny starfish.
By the time they headed back to the boat, her feet were dragging and her face hurt from smiling so much. Rhys’s stories about growing up running wild in the many hotels his family owned had left her teary from laughter. Apparently laundry shoots and off-limits areas were his favorite places, and avoiding hotel security was quite the game.
They held hands, and each carried a bucket topped with shells. Rhys had even stuck a few of the larger, heavier ones in the front pocket of his hoodie.
But the closer they came to the dinghy for the return trip, the slower she walked. She couldn’t help it. It had been the perfect day, and she didn’t want it to end.
Reality bit the big one, and her reality was that this happy bubble would inevitably burst because they had nothing in common.
She didn’t come from money or have an Ivy League education. She didn’t know the who’s who among the society set. She wasn’t rich and her bank account lacked far too many of the zeros needed to get remotely close.
This perfect day was just that…a day to hold onto in the future when Rhys would meet someone who better fit his status.
Because even if she could handle the spotlight of the media he tried to avoid, who was to say he wanted the tree farmer’s daughter at his side when those photos were taken?
Was that the real reason he’d brought her way out here? So no one would see them on their “date”?
She thought about the private booth in Haven where he’d seated her. How he’d taken her back to the penthouse alone to decorate the tree. Now this. And, yes, maybe she was overthinking everything because she was tired from their busy day, but what if the reason Rhys did all those things was because he liked something about her but was…embarrassed of her? Of her background and upbringing and all the things that made her her ?
“Have I worn you out?”
She grasped onto the excuse with both hands and nodded. “Yes, but I think we found enough shells to keep my mom happy for years.”
His low chuckle sent a warm feeling through her, and she handed over her bucket when he moved to take it. He carried them to the dinghy and pushed it out, then turned back toward her once more, swinging her up in his arms to keep her feet dry. He settled her onto the seat with a kiss brushed over her lips before he climbed in to get them on their way to the boat.
The roar of the outboard motor made it difficult to talk, but the ride to the anchored boat was quick. Once back on board, Rhys left the captain and his one-man crew to secure the dinghy and followed her to her new position at the railing. “Come here, sweet Sara.”
He stood at her back and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close. Sara closed her eyes, turning her nose into his sweatshirt to breathe in the scent of soap and man and tangy salt air. Such a heady, knee-weakening combination.
Rhys eventually lured her back to the seating area. He’d offered to take her below out of the wind, but she didn’t want to miss a moment of the ride back or the last rays of sunshine.
The air chilled as the sun set, and she leaned closer to his side, basking in the warmth he shared as she curled into him. The final rays faded, and darkness closed in as they slowly trolled back to the marina.
It really was the perfect day. But she knew all good things came to an end.