Page 13 of Husband Material
And then, all there was left to do was hold and kiss her until the aftershocks faded and we could breathe again. I managed to ditch the condom and settle us under the afghan I pulled from the back of the couch. I drew her close and breathed in the sweetness of her perfume mixed with the unmistakable scent of amazing and superb fucking.Intense, exceptional, unsurpassed fucking.
Our arms and legs were tangled together peacefully when the warm blanket of sleep finally settled over me.
5
Iwoke up alone in my quiet house.
Sitting straight up, I rubbed my eyes and studied my surroundings. The fact I'd slept naked on the couch confirmed that the wild romp with Giselle last night actuallyhadhappened.
I called her name.
Silence.
I didn't see her yellow bikini or her blue dress anywhere either. Would she have gone without saying something? I didn't think so, but then I didn't really know anything about the woman I'd spent my night with, other than how amazing she’d felt in my arms while I was inside her. I didn't even know her last fucking name let alone her number.
I grabbed my jeans from the floor, pulled them on…and went searching, chastising myself the whole way.
You met a pretty French artist and lost your shit completely.
Yep. Pretty much that.
I'd only known her one meager day. My anticipation of seeing her again was probably just the aftereffect of how great the sex had been.
I told myself that as I stormed through my house searching for her. The only visible trace that she'd been here was the bag of marshmallows on the table and the two empty wineglasses by the sink.
Heading outside, I scanned up and down the beach, hoping she might be sketching another picture there.
She wasn't.
Giselle was gone, and she'd left me with absolutely no way to reach her.
Fuck.
* * *
I retracedmy steps with her from yesterday in an attempt to dislodge the growing certainty that Giselle really had just up and left after our amazing night together.
I spent the next hours in a determined blur trying to find her. That my French friend had really left without saying goodbye didn't seem possible. I felt sort of locked in motion; threading my way from one unlikely spot to another, figuring eventually that I'd find her at one of them.
I stopped by the nearby BLU restaurant, the Surf Bar, then back to the house, then drove into town to do the rounds. I hit up the usual public places. The Main County Public Library. The City Market. Even freakingD'Alessandro's Pizza. And at every single one of them, it was the same story.
"Long dark blonde hair and wearing a blue crochet dress? Nope, haven't seeing her. Why do you ask?"
Each time the question was asked by well-meaning but nosy friends of friends, it took all of my tact to sidestep their question with a polite waved "thanks", and leave it at that. No way was I in the mood to come up with some clever lie.
By lunchtime, though, I was defeated. And hungry as hell.
At Bohemian Bull, while devouring a charbroiled chicken burger, I answered my phone.
"Want to go surfing?"
Reid, sounding as cheery as I was not.
"Now?" I asked, glancing outside.
Okay, so itwassunny. But the prospect of actuallydoingwork on this madcap Thursday felt like being woken up from a drowning dream.
"No, I was thinking more like in 2022," Reid said. "Yes now, Gage. In thirty minutes, if you want. Meet me on the beach."
