Page 72 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

He frowns. “First, school was my life, and the food truck business on the side. Then, there was the apprenticeship, and that was all I thought about. And finally, it was the restaurant where I worked.”

“What about your co-workers? And surely you dated some.” I try to say it casually, but on the inside, I have to mentally put away the claws at the thought of any other woman dating my man.

Not that he’s mine. We haven’t put a name to any of this. Then again, that kiss the other night—it felt like a declaration. A claiming of sorts. It was for me, anyway.

“I mean, yeah, my co-workers were great, and I got to know them to a certain extent. But I was the boss, so that always kind of put me at a different level. Not higher or anything like that. Just…I don’t know. They respected me, and we were friendly, but not friends.” He studies my hand in his and rubs his thumb over mine. “And as for relationships…there were a few.”

Retract, claws. Retract!

“But nothing significant. I didn’t have time. Or rather, I didn’t make the time.” Then his gaze connects with mine, and it is so piercing that I suck in a breath at the intensity written there. “I guess what I’m saying is, there was nobody back in L.A. that made me realize there’s more to life than chasing success. Nobody that compelled me to get out of my routine. To consider doing things differently.”

Nobody back in L.A. But maybe somebody in Hallmark Beach?

I want to ask the question, but before I can, he’s releasing my hand. “Come on. Let’s explore.”

Huh? But as I climb from the car and close the door behind me, I understand. Before us, just down the stairs leading from the parking lot, spreads the most beautiful beach I’ve ever seen. The sun is halfway down the sky now, and instead of sand, the ground is littered with stones of all shapes, sizes…and colors.

Oh, the colors.

Yellows, greens, blues, reds. The rocks are smooth and glistening, and I’ll bet anything that once they were jagged and dry. The ocean, over time, has beat against them, has sanded them down into something lovely, and now they decorate the landscape—proof that difficulty can sometimes produce things of beauty.

That just because you started one place doesn’t mean that’s where you’ll stay.

And I can’t help but think how this beach is a perfect representation of me and Blake. Of us, together.

I only hope our story has an ending as beautiful as this beach.

twenty-five

BLAKE

Today has been utterly perfect.

As I add wood to the fire I built on Firestone Beach, I turn my focus back to Lucy, who is wandering just a little ways down the beach, looking for a stone. What kind of stone? She doesn’t know. When we first started exploring the beach a few hours ago, she just said she’d know the perfect stone when she saw it. We wandered the beach, climbed the waterfall, took a dip in the ocean, and have spent the whole time here alone, with bouts of stone searching.

And still, no perfect rock.

But the fact Lucy’s still looking is something I love about her. She’s got the sunniest disposition. I used to think it was a bit inauthentic, but now I just think it’s Lucy. Her glass-half-full mentality balances out the daily dose of reality I’m constantly taking…and it’s kind of nice to see things from her point of view. To come here today and not really have a plan beyond being with her. Nothing to “accomplish.” No goals other than getting to know her better.

Of course, the whole day’s been a practice in the art of self-control, especially given the way she looks right now. Even from afar and in the waning sunlight, her details are clear to me. Her hair is hanging damp down her back, and she’s still wearing her swimsuit top with low-slung cutoff shorts and nothing on her feet as she carefully steps over the stones and occasionally squats to examine them more closely.

I strike a match and set fire to the kindling I’ve placed in the ring of rocks I spent the last thirty minutes arranging while Lucy combed the beach, her adorable off-key singing drifting back toward me. We are the only two here, something I didn’t plan for but don’t hate. Sure, I could have taken her on a date in Hallmark Beach, but there are lots of prying eyes—a fact that became all too clear the second we stepped from the rock outcropping at the party on Friday night.

So. Many. Looks.

We didn’t even hold hands as we left, but many an old dude shot me a thumbs up, while some of the older women—I’m looking at you, Alberta Jenkins—flashed me frowns of disapproval. Thankfully, Jordan and Marilee didn’t say a word to me, just let us join their volleyball game.

But I’m sure they noticed the way I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Lucy.

Kind of like now.

She must notice my staring, because her head pops up and she breaks into a huge grin, waves. Standing, she walks back toward me, empty handed. “No luck.”

“I admire your persistence.”

“Some might call it futile, but I will find the perfect stone. Just you wait.”

“I have no doubt you’ll do whatever you put your mind to.” Even if it’s something as impossible as finding perfection.

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