Page 7 of All I Know

He chuckles. God, I love the way he laughs. Rich and easy. "There are worse things in life, Kate."

"I guess so," I murmur. "It hasn't all been bad. It's nice to get away from city life, especially this time of year. Y'know, running on the beach at dawn, watching the sunset every night. They've started up a cool drum circle on Thursdaysand a yoga class on North Beach on the weekends. My mom's new neighbor owns a paddleboard place, and I'm going out with her soon. Paradise has changed since we were in high school. It's not as snotty. It's been cathartic, returning home. I have a different impression of the place as an adult."

He studies my face, and it feels intensely intimate. "You sound like you're trying to convince yourself that it's not so bad."

I tilt my head. "You always knew me a little too well."

He extends a hand and rests his index finger on my bare knee. One finger. That's all it takes for my insides to liquefy.

"Maybe I didn't take the time to get to know you well enough. Maybe that's why I came here tonight. Didn't want to miss yet another chance."

My heart's pounding about a million miles a minute. I place my index finger over his, pressing his finger into my leg. In my mind, there's a big, flashingyessign.

He licks his lips, and I almost moan out loud. It's been more than a year since I've been with a guy, although I can't quite recall the details about my last hookup now that I'm in Damien's presence. The thought of pressing my mouth to his throat, his stubble, his strong hands, makes me dizzy with desire. Hooking up, having an intense night with Damien—it would take the edge off.

"Want to take a walk on the beach?" My voice sounds a little too breathy, like I've sprinted a few hundred yards.

Right now, all I want is to get out of this place that smells like beer and cigarette smoke. And to make out with my teenage crush in hopes of erasing my past.

A kiss to start over. Maybe that's what I need.

damien

. . .

The curve of her hips.

Why is that one graceful body part enough to make me wanna grunt out loud like a Neanderthal, pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her to the nearest cave?

I watch Kate stretch for the plastic flaps on the exterior of the tiki hut. She stands on her tiptoes, and her shirt rides up. I'm mesmerized by that sliver of exposed skin between her tank top and her shorts.

How has she gotten even more beautiful over the last ten years?

"Let me help with that," I offer, easily reaching up to grasp the plastic. I untie and unfurl it. The whole thing seems dubious from a security standpoint, but this is Paradise Beach, where the biggest crime is someone biking home while drunk.

What's she doing, kneeling at my feet? My heart kicks into high gear at the possibilities. "Um...Kate?"

She glances up with that big-eyed, innocent expression that makes everything in my body harden. Oh, she's securing the plastic to the ground with a lock. I exhale the breath I didn't even know I'd been holding, and she stands.

"I should get a hook or something to pull that thing down because I'm so short. It's the same struggle every night."

I want to tell her that I'll help her every night that I'm here. That she's here. That we're here together. But I don't, because I don't want to scare her.

Kate has a way of turning me mute. Trouble is, I can't afford to be silent tonight. I can't screw this up because it might be my one chance with her.

My only chance with her.

"Prolly a good idea," I say in a gruff tone. All night I've been staring at her. Every time I force myself to look away, I'm drawn in by another detail.

The soft waves of her light brown hair. Her giant blue eyes. That pouty mouth of hers.

It always seems turned up into a soft smile.

That tiny, curvy body. I want to crush her against me. Could I do it without breaking her? Probably not. She's so petite.

The whole package makes me nearly blind with desire. No one's ever given me an electric, kinetic jolt like Kate. Back in high school she was my dream girl. A dream I never wanted to wake up from.

And now she's my dream woman. I don't need months or years to figure that out—the past couple of hours have told me everything I need to know. She's still the sweet, hilarious, caring person I've always adored. And yet, something in her has changed. Maybe she's matured, or maybe it's the gravity of caring for a sick parent.

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