“Rain’s stopping,” said Laire, her voice sweet.
“Hmm,” he murmured. “But I thought we’d just live here in this little house forever, Freckles.”
“Cozy,” she said, pressing her lips to his throat again, the gesture comforting and distracting at once. “Erik?”
“Yeah?”
“On Corey, what I just let you do would be bad.”
He clenched his jaw against the notion that anything they’d just shared could be bad. “We’re not on Corey.”
She swallowed, then laid her cheek on his shoulder again, her warm breath kissing his neck. “I know.”
“You feel bad, Laire? I mean, do you feel like it was wrong?”
She was quiet for a moment before lifting her head to look into his eyes. “It was too beautiful to be wrong.”
“Our own rules,” he reminded her. “Our rules say what we did was beautiful.”
Her lips tilted up, and she nodded at him. “Our rules are the best.”
“Yes, they are,” he said, chuckling softly at her happy, satisfied face.
He looked over her shoulder at the path. Beams of sunlight were starting to make their way through the trees. Tourists would start looking around the gardens again. Anyone could wander by them, and while being caught making out wasn’t a big deal in his eyes, he imagined she might not feel the same.
“Want me to hook you up?” he asked, patting the unfastened halves of her bra through her shirt.
She sat up and reached under her shirt to quickly latch and adjust her bra. “Nope. All good.”
He cupped her cheeks tenderly as he rested his forehead against hers. “Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked, holding his forearms gently with her fingers.
“For trustin’ me. For lettin’ me be with you.”
She nodded, grinning at him. “I’m glad it was you.”
He brushed his lips against hers and sighed. “Want to go see more of the gardens, darlin’?”
She hopped up, sliding one hand down his forearm to his hand, which she clasped in hers. “Yes, Erik, I do.”
***
At the gift shop he bought her a sketchbook and a silver pendant etched with a heart. When he put the necklace around her neck, the silver charm lay between her breasts, heavy and warm, and she blushed, remembering their passionate time in the gazebo.
She’d have to hide the necklace before she went home tonight, but it was hers, and she’d cherish it, and it would always—always—remind her of the perfect day with her love.
As they drove away from the gardens and back across the bridge from Roanoke Island to the Banks, Laire had the first pangs of sadness. It was only seven, but their beautiful date was coming to an end. Sooner than later, they’d have to drive back down to Hatteras and say good-bye. And it wasn’t that they couldn’t have another date again, but just for today, she’d actually freed herself from Corey for a few hours. She wasn’t frightened of being found out. She wasn’t worried about being seen with Erik. She had embraced her time with him with a fullness and gratitude that felt so wonderful, she hated the idea of going back to sneaking around. She wished every day could be like today.
Erik held her hand across the bolster as they turned south on Route 12.
“You know,” he said, oblivious to her heavy ruminations, “you never did tell me about your sketches.”
“I make my own clothes. And my sisters’. And for lots of other women on the island.”
“I didn’t know. But you always look great.”
“Thanks. Remember how I mentioned that my mother went to college?”
“Uh-huh. You were proud of her.”
She nodded. “I want to go too.”
“To college? Away from Corey?”
She glanced at him and answered tartly, “Since there’s no college there, yes.”
“But . . . I can’t imagine you leavin’ your home.”
I can. “I’ve looked into it. The two best fashion design schools on the East Coast are in New York and Rhode Island.”
“N-New York? Laire! New York City?”
His voice was so shocked, she felt defensive. “I can go anywhere I want to.”
“Says the girl who hasn’t been farther inland than Jacksonville.”
“Just because I haven’t doesn’t mean I can’t,” she said, releasing his hand and crossing her arms over her chest.
“Well, of course you can. I just . . . What does your father think?”
Her lips twitched. “He doesn’t know.”
Erik took a deep breath and sighed. “So you like designin’ clothes?”
“I love it. I’ve been designing them since my mama passed.”
“The shirt you have on?”
“Mine,” she said.
“That hot blouse you were wearing the first night you met me on Buxton? The maroon one that made my mind go blank?”
She grinned. “Mine again.”
“Those little shorts that keep teasin’ me today?”
“Mine.”
He looked over at her and nodded. “You’re talented.”
“You think so?”