Page 38 of Between Us

When I finally calm down, we just watch each other for a few more seconds. Finally, he breaks the silence, “I didn’t mean it likethat. I meant like, emotionally, you know?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” I nod emphatically, trying to keep my smile at bay. I fail. Miserably.

“Whatever.” His tone is still playful and easy-going.

“That was the dirtiest thing anyone has ever said to me,” I chuckle. I don’t know why I admit it. Then again, everything feels safe with him.

“Blake,” he says, suddenly very serious, causing me to sober right up, “thatwas an accident.” Before my heart can crack in half, he continues, “The next time, it won’t be. And I promise, I can make it a hell of a lot filthier if that’s what you want.” His eyes rove my shocked face before he adds with a smirk, “What youneed.”

“Oh,” I squeak out. A smug look slides over him at my dumbstruck expression, and we can’t have that.Absolutely not.“Are you going to stutter like a schoolboy after that time too?” I retort with a small victory shimmy into my pillows.

His snort makes my eyes snap to his. “Says the girl that could audition to be a tomato.”

“That’s not true,” I grumble, as my cheeks turn impossibly red. Yup, they skipped pink this time and went right for a perfect impersonation.

“Yeah, sure thing,” he parrots back to me.

I start to roll my eyes, a huge yawn breaking out of me instead. I stretch my free arm up and slip my hand further into my sleeve. “You should get some sleep.”

“You’re the one that works tomorrow,” I say as I snuggle further into my duvet.

“I work at theclinictomorrow, sure. But you’re babysitting those boys you’re always complaining about, right?”

I love that he remembers my schedule.

“Ugh, yes. The Paulson boys—those little shits are going to give me a coronary one day.” Typically, I work Sunday mornings with Adrian, but Kevin and Erika Paulson are good people who often need cheap, if not free, help with the kids. And I’m one of the last people willing to put up with their antics.

Laughing, he shakes his head looking through the screen with affection. “Good night, Storm Cloud.”

“Good night,flaco.” He smiles at the endearment, but I wonder if he knows it literally translates toskinny. He’s thin in the sense that he’s tall, lean and cut except that’s not why I used it. It reminds me of my mom calling my dadgordo. It technically meansfatbut is often used in a loving way.

When I see him moving toward the red button, I sit up suddenly. “Hey, wait—”

He jerks the phone back. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I swallow, and his eyes track the movement. “Um, well, it’s kinda silly really. Never mind.”

“Nope.” He settles back into his pillows. “You can’t get rid of me until you tell me.”

In that case…

“I was just, um—I was wondering if I could text you tomorrow. If you won’t be too busy, you know, after work? I don’t think we’ll work together again for a few days…” I trail off in embarrassment.

“I was already planning on texting you first thing in the morning, but you never have to ask. Texts, calls, carrier pigeons, they’re all welcome.”

“This is San Diego, dude. We use seagulls here.”

“Oh”—he lifts one hand in a fake placating gesture—“excuse me, I’d hate to offend the wicked creatures.”

I fall back in laughter, thinking back to the story he told me recently. He’d only been in Amada Beach for a couple of weeks at this point, so he didn’t know how determined, and fearless, the local seagulls were until they’d already knocked the entire plate out of his hands. “You’re still mad about the cheese fries, I see.”

“It was a horrible welcome to the town.”

“And yet, you’ve forgiven Benji for the bowel movements.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m a professional, Blake. You can sayshitlike an adult. Andhewasn’t the siren who took advantage of a desperate man.”

“You’re delusional,” I shake my head. “Get some sleep. It’ll help.”

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