His face remained unmoved, but I watched his jaw tense.
“I could only see the goal that I had set for myself and I didn’t want anything to trip me up. Anything or anyone.” I sighed, feeling a deep exhaustion start to settle in my bones when Kai crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“I expected you to wait,” I continued, my voice quiet. “Wait to see me on my nonexistent days off, wait to talk to me on the phone until the middle of the night, wait to hear me acknowledge I was falling in love with you until it was convenient for me.”
I was sure he could see my heart doing gymnastics under the buttons of my coat. “I shouldn’t have waited. And I’m sorry. Maybe you can’t do it today, but I hope you can forgive me.”
Kai took three steps toward me, and the grit in his gaze was enough to make me take a step backward toward the cliff.
“You are infuriating.”
I swallowed hard but met his gaze. “I know.”
“And difficult.”
“I agree.”
“And you’re an elitist,” he said, finger pointing at my nose. “About stone fruits. And flowers. And butter, for the love of God! You’re very weird about butter.”
I nodded. I knew.
He let out an exasperated sigh. Hands shoved in his pockets, he shook his head.
“You are a total mess about wanting any kind of personal life, Charlie. I just can’t see how it would ever have worked.”
The big lump in my throat that I’d been intent on ignoring made my cheeks burn with the effort. My eyes stung and I shut them against the salty spray in the air, the heart-stopping view of rock and sea, the truth written so clearly on Kai’s face.
“There are so many reasons for us to walk away.” Kai lowered his voice.
I opened my eyes to watch his mouth form the words.
“I rehearse all those reasons at night when I can’t sleep, but I’m always distracted. I keep thinking of the way your smile makes my chest physically hurt.”
He was pacing now.
“I’ve made lists—actual lists, with bullet points, like I’m going grocery shopping or something—when I’m at work and all I can think about is the way your eyes get deeper green when it’s raining or the crazy passion you bring to making a damn cupcake.”
I thought to smile but couldn’t seem to breathe.
Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he ran one hand through his mussed hair.
“And this morning, I finally convinced myself that the lists are right and that none of the other stuff mattered. Not that you can make me laugh hard enough that I beg for mercy, or that every other woman looks uninteresting and dull to me now, or that you are, without question, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.” His words tumbled out in a rush, as if he were trying to keep up with them. “None of that mattered this morning. I was ready to be done with the girl from New York who came here and ruined everything.”
Kai lifted his hands and slowly, gently, he took my face between them.
“You ruined everything,” he said, leaning in.
“I know, but—”
He reached for me and gathered what felt like every inch of me into his arms. He kissed me long and deep, a take-no-prisoners kind of kiss with his hands in my hair and my feet barely touching the damp earth.
It required all my remaining self-control, but I pulled away, shook my head. “This isn’t fair to Sunshine.” I pressed my fingers to my lips. They still tingled after his touch. “We have to talk about her before we go one step further.”
Kai’s forehead creased, but he didn’t loosen his arms around my waist. “Sunshine. You mean Sunshine who worked at the diner.”
I pulled a face. “Please tell me you don’t know more than one woman named Sunshine.”
He tilted his chin, daring me to continue. “Why would I need to consult Sunshine before kissing you?”
I raised my eyebrows. “I saw you together. One night, about a month ago, when you and Sunshine were sharing a booth at Howie’s.” I gulped. “You were sitting very close. You had your arm around her, you leaned into her, and, well, I couldn’t stand being there any longer, but we both know what happened.”
Kai waited a full, interminable beat before bursting into laughter. “Garrett, for being a woman who alphabetizes her spice rack, you have a remarkable imagination.” He laughed again, and now I was getting annoyed.
“I saw the way she looked at you,” I said, stepping backward and out of his arms.
He pulled me back to him and waited until I met his gaze. “You may have seen something on Sunshine’s face, but you didn’t look too closely at mine. She came in that night to say goodbye.” His eyes sparked with amusement. “Sunshine moved to Montana last month to live in a yurt and raise her own goats.”
I attacked him that time, my hands wrapped around his neck and my mouth peppering his face with kisses.
“What’s a yurt?” I said, feeling the scratch of his whiskers on my cheek.