“Okay.”
“So how did you know where I was? Because this is kind of a hike for you.” He looks back toward the water as if it’s calling him.
“I stopped by your house and caught Julian on his way to a client.”
“Ah.” He bends down to pluck another rock from the sand and I catch a glimpse of his tattoo. My fingers itch to glide along the curved letters. “You ever skip stones?” When I shake my head no, he motions me closer with a jerk of his chin. “C’mere.” As I get near enough to see the beads of sweat dotting his chest, he points to my feet. “Take off your sneakers. You know, to get the full effect,” he adds, and I kick them aside. He positions himself behind me, close enough that his breath whispers over my cheek, and places the warm stone in my palm. “It’s all in the wrist,” he explains, his fingers circling my hand and flicking it a few times. Goose bumps travel up my arms and I’m praying they’re invisible. “Okay, on three.” We count backwards and release it into the air. The rock plunks into the ocean and sinks to the bottom. “Good try.”
Despite two more unsuccessful attempts, Vance remains encouraging while I blow out a frustrated breath. “Do you want to try again? Fourth time’s a charm,” he teases, and I nod. It isn’t a difficult decision because I want him to keep holding my hand. “Okay, same motion. Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I answer, and together we let go of the stone. It skips once, twice, three times across the water and I squeal. “I did it!” I spin around, still squealing, and nearly fall into him.
“You did at that.” He lifts a finger to tuck a wisp of hair behind my ear. His hand lingers and my breaths come faster—too loud now, overshadowing all other sound. But then he blinks out of the moment, as if he realizes what he’s doing, and lets his hand drop to his side. He clears something from his throat and turns to face the water. “You did good, Mickey.”
Moving to stand beside him, I peer at the ocean, the tide breathing in and out as it reaches then pulls back from the shore. My eyes track a seagull flying overhead as the grey bird swoops down in search of food. “It’s so peaceful here.”
“It is,” he agrees. “And it’s a great place to read.” He points behind him to two books sitting on a slab of rock. “I saw my mom earlier today.” He glances over at me with a smile that reaches his eyes. “She was having an unusually good day.”
“Yeah?”
“She knew who I was when I walked in.” His happiness is contagious. It blooms inside of me and I rest my hand on his arm. He looks down at it but doesn’t pull away. “She told me my hair was too long, but that she liked my earring.”
“I’m so thrilled for you.” I give his arm a squeeze then let go.
“Thanks. I told her I’d see her tomorrow, and…,” he hesitates, his voice littered with emotion, “even though she might not remember me tomorrow, I feel like I can keep today in my pocket for when I need it.” He casts an uncertain glance my way. “I know that probably sounds odd.”
“Not to me.” I flash him a reassuring smile. “It doesn’t sound odd at all.” His eyes pore over my face before he lowers them to the sand.
Rippled waves cascade under our feet as we continue to gaze at the golden sun, free of the clouds now, reflecting off the water. I chance a glimpse of Vance’s profile. His skin misted with a fine sheen of sweat, mouth relaxed and parted slightly. Worry that normally hides in the corner of his eyes is at bay—at least for now.
The strong angle of his jaw and the smooth curve of his nose beckon to me, and I find myself tracing his features as if I was actually touching him. He turns to catch me staring and his lips spread into a wide grin. That’s when it strikes me.
“I want to sculpt you.”
His eyes sparkle. “It’s because I’m devilishly handsome, isn’t it?”
I huff out a laugh. “Yes, that’s definitely it. Sprinkled with a dash of ‘I’m full of myself.’”
A moment goes by and I can tell he’s considering my request. He regards me then, his smile transforming into wickedness. “Would I be naked?”
I lift a brow. “Do you want to be?”
“Let’s move onto the next question,” he answers quickly, and I snort.
“So can I?” Too many seconds pass that I’m sure his answer is going to be no, but he surprises me.
“Okay.” My heart does a small leap inside my chest. “When will I be sculpted?”
Lost in my excitement, it takes me a minute to respond. “Huh? Oh, I don’t know.” I search the sky before meeting his eyes. “How about in the morning? I don’t have to work so….”
“I need to send out more resumes, but….” He gestures with his hands as if he’s balancing a scale. “Let’s see… job hunting, orrrr, being the subject of a work of art? Hmph.” He shoots me an uncertain grin. “Let’s do it.”