Drift

Chapter 16

Humidity rising after a near-death kiss

“I thought I’d find you readin’ a book.” Sawyer’s bare feet sink into the sand beside me. “What you doin’?” He drops a cooler next to the tree.

I shield my eyes with my hands and glance up. He’s changed into blue board shorts and a white T-shirt, and the sight of so much extra skin is almost enough for me to forget the indecision clawing at my chest. I swallow.

He flicks out his towel and parks on the sand beside me. “Well?”

“I was thinking.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“Everything.”

He smirks. “That narrows it down.”

We’re on the same page then. “What have you got in the cooler?”

“Uh…” He scrubs a hand over the back of his head. “Thought you might be hungry…or thirsty…or…”

I scramble over my towel, kneel in front of the cooler, and flip the lid open. “Wow. Okay.” I lever a bottle of wine out of the truckload of ice he’s tipped into the cooler and present it to him with a raised eyebrow.

The crest of his cheeks flushes pink. “You had wine at the bar that night… There’s a glass in there somewhere.”

Ice crunches around the bottle when I jam it back into the cooler and free a beer instead. “This is fine.” I hold the bottle out to Sawyer. “Don’t suppose those gigantic hands of yours can open this?”

“Sure.” His forearm flexes too perfectly when he twists the cap off. “Here.”

I force myself to stop staring at the tattoos and veins on his arms, quickly shifting my gaze. “Oh, uh…” I gulp nervously. “Thanks.”

He twists the cap off another bottle, tosses it in the cooler, and holds out his beer. “Cheers?”

Just before my bottle taps against his, I pause. “Are we allowed to drink on the beach?”

“Probably not.”

“In that case…” Our bottles clink. “Cheers.”

We sip our beers in silence. It isn’t awkward. Not like the day in his car. Salt hangs in the air, and the wind teases through my hair as the waves break against the shore. I love this—stillness? Easiness? I can’t find the word I want in my mind. Sitting here with him just feels complete somehow.

“You managed to find the only tree,” Sawyer says.

“I chose this spot because of the tree. Look at me.” I stick out a leg and wriggle it. “I’m as white as the moon. Not like you.” I gesture at his tanned legs covered in tufts of blond hair and sand.

“There’s a lot about us that’s different.” His gaze fixes on the ocean.

I frown down at my beer, holding it delicately in long fingers. That’s different, too. Is that why he keeps his distance from me? Am I too much work for him? I spread my fingers wider, set my grip around the bottle the way he does, and then take a sip.

“So, when I got here…what were you thinkin’ about?” Sawyer asks. “Give me one from your list of everythin’.”

I shrug as if this isn’t a problem that’s been weighing me down since my divorce. “It’s been a few months since I moved here. It’s probably time to make some longer-term plans.”

“You thinkin’ of leavin’?”

“No. I love it here. But maybe… I don’t know. I should probably think more seriously about buying a car. Or a house.”

“What about some more travel?”

“I spent most of my twenties traveling. That’s enough, I think. I have the same itchy feeling I did when I wanted to see more of the world, but now, it’s focused more on finding my place in the world.”

“That’s a big feelin’ to conquer.”

I drop my chin to my knees. “Yeah.” Too big. Insurmountable, even.

“Take it a day at a time. Life’s not a race.”

“It is for some people.”

“You reckon they’re happy?”

“They seem happy.”

“You seem happy.”

“I am, but…” I sigh. “You know me.”

“Do I?”

I glance over my shoulder. Sawyer’s head hangs low as he watches a handful of sand slip through his fingers.

“Do I know you, Elsie? You talk to me, you tell me about yourself, but it feels like you’re avoidin’ somethin’. It’s like if I dig a bit deeper…ask you just the right question… There’s somethin’ way down there you’re not tellin’ me.”

I drop my head. “There’s nothing to know about me. I’m no one.”

“Someone made you feel like that.”

“Maybe,” I whisper. There are a lot of names on that list, actually. “But not you.” It feels important to add that.

He leans over. “You’d tell me if I did?”

“Of course.”

He smiles. “You been in the water yet?”

I’m relieved he’s steered the conversation back to safer territory. “Nope. Want to come in with me?”

“Now?”

“Sure. Why not?” I wedge my beer in the sand and stand up.

“But I hope you brought your sunglasses. Prepare for the glare of the whitest body to ever grace this beach.” I grin, sliding my hands to the buttons on my sundress and working them open.

“I always thought it was a strange twist of fate that I could love the beach so much and yet I cook up redder than one of your lobsters if I spend too long in the sun.”

Sawyer hasn’t moved from his spot. He’s frowning at his towel. An impulsive spark of heat burns inside me. I want him to look at me.

So help me God, I know I don’t need to arch my back, but as I peel the dress away and let it flutter to the ground, the movement draws his eyes up, and I love the way his heated gaze locks on the curve of my backside.

The cut of this swimsuit is flattering, and my bottom looks round and inviting… even if it is lily white.

His gaze quickly skips away as he stands. “You put on some sunblock?”

Unfortunately. “Yes.”

He drops his chin in a nod. “Good. Race you to the water?”

“Me? Race? I’m going to dazzle you in the water, but not here, on the sand.” I wince. “That’s a big yikes.”

“Walk you to the water, then?” He yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it over the cooler.

My witty comeback dies somewhere between my brain and my mouth.

Sawyer’s body is…

I snap my jaw shut before any embarrassing noises gasp out of me.

This man spends his days on a lobster trawler.

I have no idea what he does. Lifts stuff.

Hauls things. Whatever mysterious activities create shoulders that broad, I suppose.

Muscles bunch across his chest and arms. Black tattoos cover half his sun-bronzed skin, and there’s a patch of blond hair sprinkled in the middle and a slightly darker trail leading from his belly button, down… down…

My gaze jerks away so fast I nearly snap my neck. I should not be ogling his…

Heat floods my cheeks.

This is Sawyer. He’s the nice man who always protects me from Kristen and growls at me when I tell him I’m going to walk home in my flip-flops. My only friend.

I need to get into the water. Immediately. I need to dive under the waves, preferably deep enough to drown the flood of lust surging through my veins. He’s Poseidon. No, a Viking warrior. No matter what myth or part of history my mind wanders to, one thing is clear: the man is gorgeous.

I spin on my heel and bolt down the beach.

“Hey! No fair!” he calls out to me. “You said you didn’t run!”

Usually, no. Today, I’m a gazelle. I don’t slow down. I blaze down the beach, and I’m headed straight for the water until strong hands grab my waist, and suddenly, my feet aren’t touching the sand anymore.

I shriek as he hauls me up into his arms. “Sawyer!”

“Too slow!”

The ocean rushes toward us in a blur of blue and white.

“Put me down!”

“Not a chance.”

A wave crests in front of us, taller than either of us expected, our eyes lifting higher and higher.

Sawyer’s smile falters.

My eyes pop wide. “Oh.”

“Fuck,” he says.

Sawyer’s hands clutch tight around my waist, and I feel him boosting me up, up, up as the wave crashes over us.

Cold water engulfs me. There’s nothing but bubbles and salt and complete disorientation.

His hands slip away, and I surface, spluttering, shoving wet hair off of my face, laughing.

He bursts out of the water a second later.

“I don’t think we should be laughing,” he gasps between breaths. “I think we almost died.”

“What a way to go!” I grin up at him.

“This is a side of you I wasn’t expecting.”

My face falls. Is that bad? Am I too much out here?

“No,” he hurries to add. “It’s great. You’re adventurous, but on your terms. Like you are with your books, but… out here too.”

“I love the beach.” I let the water carry me off my feet for a second to sigh up at the perfect blue sky.

“It’s the one place that stays constant despite all the time that passes.

Where we are now is where the explorers first stood…

Where the indigenous people lived for thousands of years…

Where no one lived at all for even longer. Untouched and unspoiled and…”

“Perfect.”

I nod.

“You’re perfect,” he says.

A wave crashes into me, lifting me off my feet for a moment before setting me down again. I blink at him through a curtain of wet hair. Surely, I misheard him. He thinks I’m perfect?

“Beautiful,” he adds.

The waves nudge us together. Then apart.

Then together again. Each swell of the ocean is determined to erase the space between us.

Sawyer’s hand gently anchors to my spine, steadying me when another wave rolls through.

He wants me so close. It’s the slow-motion replay of the moment in his kitchen.

His eyes drift to my mouth. I won’t make the mistake of trying to entice him with that flirty little lick. I’ll be brave and take the lead.

This time, I let my hand curl gently behind his head, my fingers disappearing into his wet hair, waiting for the next wave to bump me closer. That’s when I’m finally going to—

His lips whisper over mine in a sweet, silky kiss.

Oh.

He beat me to it.

I adore this kiss. Sawyer is so weathered and rough around the edges. Calloused fingers hold my chin steady, and his beard is bristly, but those lips… Oh, those lips… They’re so unexpectedly soft. He tries to pull back after that tiny tease, but I don’t let him. I need more.

I keep my hand buried in his hair and draw him back to claim another kiss.

“How could anyone say you’re a zero out of ten, Elsie Hoskins?” His hand cups my bottom and gives a very appreciative squeeze. “You’re a fuckin’ eleven out of ten. Nothin’ wrong with you.”

I want every inch of me pressed against him. I want him to be reckless.

My heart is a frantic drum in my chest, but I’m the one who arches up to demand the next kiss, and I’m the one who deepens it, teasing him with the barest slip of my tongue along his lips. But he takes it as permission to let go of any restraint. He’s ravenous.

His mouth moves against mine with a desperate sort of passion, imperfect in technique because he’s impatient now. A firm palm slides over my backside. His fingers hooking into the edge of my swimsuit, he pulls the elastic taut until I’m flush against him, and his erection grinds against my stomach.

God, yes…

This is what I want. This power. Knowing I can turn him on with just a kiss.

Breathless, we finally pull apart. I hope to see his heart in his eyes. I want him to tell me that’s the best kiss he’s ever had.

Sawyer steps back. “Sorry.”

The ocean surges in the gap between us. I see through rapid blinks that the distance is small, but it feels so enormous. My pulse still pounds. Sorry? We’re both adults. Clearly, the attraction is mutual. A man has never kissed me with that much…wanting before.

But none of it matters.

Sawyer turns and wades back toward shore, and I stay rooted in the water, watching him go. Waves break against my shoulders, but I barely feel them. Maybe I’ll just paddle around until night falls… Or forever… The sting burning behind my eyes is easier to hide beneath the saltwater.

By the time I make my way back, he’s sitting on the towel, beer in his hand.

Nibbling on my bottom lip, I slowly lower onto the towel beside him. “Sawyer, about what happened—”

“Forget about it.”

“But—”

“Have you eaten somethin’ yet? I brought some food along. They had about ten fancy cheeses at the grocery store.” His uncertain smile is a desperate plea to move on. “Tell me if I picked one you like.”

When he presents me with the wedge of brie, I only nod, because the lump lodged in my throat won’t let me speak.

Sawyer took the lead this time.

We’re going to pretend as if the kisses never happened.