Page 4 of Husband Material
And then it was over.
But my mind was the textbook definition ofclear. Maybe evenholycalm had been achieved. Like the waves and the daring of them had somehow sloshed the disturbing thoughts out of my head.
No, there was only life, plain and simple and right. The cool lick of the water stroked my front, slipping down my body. The far-off wheeling seagulls, celebrating. The sweeping expanse of tan beach. Empty.
Almost.
Except her.
A girl who was…beautiful and carefree…standing on the beach with the wind fluttering her sea-colored dress against her body and whipping her long dark-blonde hair across her face. She also looked straight at me as I came in from the water.
Or did she?
I craned my head over my shoulder, transported back to high school. One of the handful of times a hot girl—like Nina with her unsettling Spanish eyes, or Chelsey with her rainbow bracelets encircling each arm, or Jeanne with her tall boots on long lovely legs—waved at me, and I'd craned my head around my shoulder to confirm whether they were actually waving at me and not another uniformed boy with floppy hair in the mass of students.
But this time, there was no one and nothing else in sight except for an orange buoy bobbing innocuously in the sea. Only…me.
Catching my eye, a radiant smile emerged on the girl's face. She waved.
I guess that was ayes?
Shewaswaving at me.
2
“How are you liking it?" Stupid thing to ask, but my mouth seemed to be in the mood foronlydoing stupid with her, so I just went with it.
Her delicate fingers had formed a visor shading her from the sun as she peered up at me from where she was now sitting in the sand. "How am I liking what?"
Blankly, I stared at her. Really, I'd meant the beach. But now that I saw she had an open notebook in her lap and a sharpened pencil in her hand, I wanted to know what the half-visible image on the paper was. And she clearly had an accent—French maybe—which for some reason made me want to get to know her even more.
I gestured at her notebook. "How are you liking whatever you're doing?"
She bit her lip into a grin, glancing down.
When she aimed her dark eyes at me again, they carried the same radiance as her smile. "I love it."
I stood there awkwardly for a minute, debating whether to press her when it was obvious she was sidestepping my question.
With a half-smile and a toss of her head, she flicked her notebook to me, paper-side out. Striding forward and crouching down, I made out the drawing. A well-rendered sketch of Folly Beach showcasing some pumping waves and, what looked to be a small figure on a board.
"Sorry." She turned the drawing back around. "I have been at this for ages, but still get self-conscious. Some people despise being drawn."
Her pretty eyes flicked to me again, looking for some kind of a response.
I shrugged. "I'm only the size of a paper clip in your sketch." As her cheeks colored, a tempting thought occurred to me. And again, my mouth took over speaking more stupid shit I couldn't take back. "Actually, I've never had my portrait done. It could be cool. I mean, I could sit here for you with my board…if you want."Your fucking mouth, dude.
She paused, her gaze drifting away from me as she followed the undulating waves. Perhaps she sensed my innocent question was not all that innocent. I could see now that her blue dress was fishnet, with holes large enough for me to see the yellow bikini she wore underneath it. Plenty of her very lovely golden skin was visible too. I could sit and stare at her for a long time without getting bored. My view was certainly spectacular, and if she talked to me in that accent of hers while she drew, I'd like it even better.
She surprised me though when she gave me a vigorous nod. "As long as you are fine with sitting for a long time. An hour at the very most least."
The adorable double negative she added to the end of her sentence was the clincher for me…if I hadn't already been convinced. I slung my board down and sat beside it. "I've got time."And for some reason, for her, I do have time.It was as thought I’d slipped into an alternate reality. When had I ever answered,I’ve got time?
Something I couldn't name drew me to this girl. I wasn't able to walk away. My feet would simply not fucking move even as my brain shouted for them to go. Because I needed to find out who she was. Why was she here? Where did she live? I needed to know so much more about this beautiful exotic girl with the Parisian lilt to her words and the sexy smile, who wanted to draw my portrait.
Oh, yes.
She stood abruptly. "In that case it would be better if we sit in the shade. I was only sitting here because it was the only place with a good view of the water."
