Page 90 of Taming Waves

I reach into my nightstand and hand her a black velvet jewelry box.

“What is this?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Don’t worry. It’s not a ring. Not yet anyway,” I assure her. “Open it.”

She lifts the lid and immediately bursts out laughing.

She tugs the delicate platinum chain loose and turns it over in her hand. Then, her eyes flit up to mine.

“You like it? I had Anson’s mother make it just for you.”

“I love it. Help me put it on?” she asks.

I take it from her fingers, and she extends her hand.

I clasp it around her wrist before dipping my head to kiss the pulse point just below her palm. Then, I turn it over and finger the five silver metal beads I took from my birthday gift and the tiny silver heart, inlaid with our birthstones. Then, I kiss her wrist.

We end our first holiday together in an oval bathtub, full of rose-scented bubbles.

The beauty and her Sasquatch.

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