Milayna (Milayna #1)

“And what’s my tell?” he asked, looking at me. The water still sprayed around us, soaking us both.

“Depends on what you’re going to do. Just now, you shifted your weight. I knew you were going to push me in because your shoulder tensed and your weight shifted to give you leverage.”

“So what are my other tells?”

I looked down, spreading my fingers over one of the colored lights, watching the water and light dance on my skin. “Your eyes darken just before you lean in to kiss me.” I tried to keep my voice from quivering like my insides were. Goose bumps covered my skin, and I hoped he thought they were from the cool water splashing over us rather than me thinking about how his kisses made me feel—all warm and gooey and like my world had tipped. “That’s my favorite.” I looked up at him, and his eyes darkened. “Yeah, just like that,” I whispered as his lips lowered to mine.

***

Chilled from the cool water, we climbed a grassy hill in a park near the water sculpture. I squeezed as much water from my hair and clothes as I could and stretched out on the lawn to let the sun dry them. We lay in the grass with the large autumn sun beating down on us and talked. And laughed. And talked some more.

Once we were dry enough that our shoes didn’t make squishing noises when we walked, we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the small art galleries and shops.

“What are you doing?” I giggled at the look on Chay’s face as he regarded an abstract painting in one of the upscale art boutiques. He tilted his head from one side to the other, studying the random shapes and colors.

“Honestly?” He stepped closer to the painting and narrowed his eyes. “I’m trying to figure out what it is.”

“It’s abstract. You aren’t supposed to know what it is.” I nudged him with my shoulder.

He laughed; the sound bounced off the walls of the mini gallery, echoing in the sparse space. “If I’m going to pay that kind of money for something, I want to know what it is.”

“So you’re the type of guy who likes velvet paintings of dogs playing poker?” I teased.

“Something like that. I wouldn’t mind a photograph or two.”

“There are some really pretty prints a little further down.” I took his hand and pulled him to the photographs on display.

Chay gave them a cursory glance and shook his head. “Nah, not for me. Maybe if I did this.” He placed his hands on my upper arms and guided me in front of the photographs. “Yeah, that’s a photo I could get used to.” He snapped a quick photo with his cell phone.

I could feel my insides melt at his words. “Be serious,” I said on a laugh.

Is he being cheesy or is he really this romantic?

When the sun started to set, we found a bench overlooking the water and sat to watch. The sky was streaked with magnificent colors of red and gold shining through puffy, white clouds.

“It’s pretty here. Thank you for bringing me.”

“I can’t believe you’ve lived here all your life and you’ve never come until today.” Chay looked at me and ran a finger up my arm.

“I know. We always travel to another city or state to do the touristy things. I never thought there were places to go right in my own hometown. I’m glad I’ve never been here before, though. I liked seeing it for the first time with you.”

He cupped my face with his hands and kissed me as the last of the sun’s rays slipped behind the horizon and the Waterway lit up around us like a Christmas tree. It was beautiful. The multi-colored lights made the water look like a floating rainbow.

“Now we take the boat ride I promised you,” Chay said, pulling me gently to the dock.

We boarded the boat and found a spot next to the railing away from the other passengers, watching the lights as we floated down the river. A band played in the small dance area and music filtered outside, the sound mingling with the gentle lapping of the water and the far-off conversations of people walking along the water’s edge.

“You’re right. It’s beautiful,” I told him.

He leaned forward and touched his lips softly to mine, running his fingers through my hair. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. He kissed me as soft music carried on the breeze from the dance floor.

Pulling back, he looked at me and smiled. “Let’s dance.”

“That’s okay. I’m not much of a dancer.”

Dude, give me a reason to press up against you and I’m there. But dancing? I’d trip and take us both down like the Hindenburg.

Michelle Pickett's books