someone in a good mood to begin with.
Throw in thirty teenage girls who are seeing boys with their shirts off for the first time…it’s not pretty.”
Bowen’s eyes narrowed on her. “You were gawking again, weren’t you?”
“Guilty.”
His voice dropped. “We’ll sort that out later, won’t we?”
The air grew thick between them, heating her even in the cool morning breeze. It would be so easy to stand and wrap her arms around him, but she wanted to take this opportunity to know more. To understand him better as a person before their labels, their real lives, intruded and she’d never get the chance again. Her throat grew suddenly tight. “What about you? Last time at the beach.”
He opened his mouth to answer, but frowned and shut it again. “I don’t remember. I might have been here last week…” She could tell from his tone he meant it. If he wanted to, he could have easily made something up. Clearly, he couldn’t call to mind the last time he’d been, and it bothered him tremendously.
“Just tell me about any time you were at the beach, Bowen,” she offered quietly. “It doesn’t have to be the last time.”
Sera watched shadows pass behind his
eyes
as
he
thought.
The
lightheartedness of a moment ago had passed, leaving his troubles etched in the hard lines of his body. Outlined by the bright morning light from his position on the top rail, he looked like he belonged painted on the ceiling of a cathedral. An angel who had defected to the dark side.
“All right, I got one.” His far-off voice startled her out of her daydream.
“My father drove me down here one afternoon when I was thirteen. Even let me sit in the front seat.” He pointed to a spot beyond her shoulder. “There was a group of high school kids hanging out, smoking, whatever. He told me to get out of the car and pick a fight with the biggest one. Wouldn’t let me get back in the car until I did it. Until I won.”
Sera was certain if she moved, her body would splinter in half. Anger coursed through her veins at the idea of a father treating his child so callously. She felt pity for the little boy, too, but she held on to the anger because if he saw her pity, he’d hate it. “Did you win?”
“No. I rode the subway home with two busted eyes that day. So he brought me back the following week. And the week after that. Until he could point out anyone on the beach and I could take them.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “But I haven’t lost a fair fight since then, so lesson learned, right?”
“Fair fight? None of that was fair.”
When he merely stared off into the distance, she drew in a deep breath to calm herself down. It didn’t work. Her hands were shaking in her lap with the desire to break a commandment on his behalf. “Why did you tell me that?”
“To see if you’ll leave.” His hands clenched and unclenched on the rail.
“Once you know I’m just a trained attack dog.”
“Would you let me leave?”
“No.” Stormy gray eyes found hers.
“No.”
In her old line of work, the ER had been a place where income brackets and political differences didn’t matter.
Making people better, that’s what mattered. This need to care for Bowen went so far beyond a calling. It couldn’t be controlled or reasoned with. It was necessity. Sharing his aches wasn’t a burden, but a privilege. He’d just proven beyond a shadow of a doubt how vastly different their worlds had been growing up. How different they were still. She didn’t care anymore if her pity was unwanted, though. She needed to touch him.
At the exact moment she launched herself from the bench toward Bowen, he dropped from the railing and met her halfway, their bodies colliding. His arms banded across her back, crushing her to his chest. Her chin fit just right into the notch of his neck. They held each other and swayed for a while, ignoring the curious looks of people walking past. She could only hold tight and hope the simple act of her being there helped in some way.
Suddenly, Bowen’s body started shaking. It alarmed her at first until she realized he was laughing. “What?”
“You’re not even going to believe me.”
After everything he’d just told her?
“Try me.”
He gripped her shoulders and turned her around slowly. “Don’t gawk, Ladybug.”
“I don’t gaw—” She never finished her
sentence.
Walking
down
the
boardwalk,
looking
righteous
and
militant, was a pack of nuns. “No way.”
“Way.”
She dropped back onto the bench in a fit of laughter, Bowen watching her with an amused expression. Sera hid her face in her hands, hoping the nuns would pass by quickly, but somehow knew Bowen wouldn’t be able to let that happen. And she was right. As the nuns drew even with their bench, he let out a loud whistle.
“Sisters.” He leaned back on the railing like a lazy cat and threw them a wink. “You’re looking extra lovely today. Put in a good word with the big guy for me, would ya?”
As Sera buried her face back in her hands with a groan, she swore she heard one of them giggle.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN