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I shake my head free of those thoughts and smile at him. He’s holding the passenger side door open, and I climb in, rolling my eyes when he buckles my seatbelt.
“I’m capable of doing that on my own,” I inform him.
“Bodyguard duty,” he says with a wink. A freakin’ wink. And I thought he couldn’t get any sexier.
Keaton hops in the driver's seat, and we take off. He winds his way through back roads, taking us somewhere I’ve never been. I thought I knew every spot in town to catch a glimpse of the ocean, but my man is full of surprises.
He pulls into a shaded spot under a tree, then hurries to my side to open my door. He’s so adorable. My heart melts knowing he’s trying so hard to impress me and do everything properly. No one has ever cared for me like this.
Keaton leads me down a small hill, helping me step over a fallen branch and navigate the rocky, mostly hidden path. I’m starting to question if he knows what the ocean is and if maybe he confused it for a forest, but then we emerge out of the woods and into a clearing.
I gasp at the pristine slice of paradise. It’s a small beach with soft sand and a breathtaking view of the sea. A large boulder sits off to the left, blocking this section from the bigger portion of the beach. The forest wraps around to the right, creating a perfect private hideaway.
“How did you find this?” I ask as I slip my shoes off and take a few steps onto the beach, loving the warm sand between my toes. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head up and breathe in the salty air, letting the steady rhythm of the waves lapping at the shore fill me up.
After a few moments of silence, I open my eyes and peer over my shoulder at Keaton. He’s staring at me, though I can’t quite read the look in his eyes. It’s almost as if he’s... in awe? Of me?
“You’re so beautiful,” Keaton whispers, coming up behind me.
He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me toward him so my back is pressed against his chest. I let out a shuddering breath when his lips graze the shell of my ear.
“I can’t believe you’re here with me,” he says softly.
I lean into his touch, my breath hitching when he kisses my neck. One minute, I’m surrounded by Keaton’s warmth and sweet words, and the next, he’s gone. I turn around to pout, but then I see him hauling the picnic basket and blanket from where he set them down.
I smile as I watch him spread the blanket several feet from the shoreline. It’s close enough to enjoy this incredible oasis but far enough away that we don’t get wet. He pulls out a bottle of wine and the paper cups from the motel room, making me giggle.
I join him on the blanket, my mouth dropping as I see everything he prepared. Delicious-looking croissant sandwiches, cheese and crackers, grapes, strawberries, and a jar of green olives. I give him a questioning look when he pulls the olives out, and Keaton shrugs, the tips of his ears turning red. His blush is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, which seems like an oxymoron for such a muscled, growly giant.
“I looked up what foods to pack for a picnic. This came up, so I added it to the cart. Have you ever had them?”
I shake my head no. “I didn’t get a lot of variety in meals growing up.” Keaton frowns, and I hate that I ruined the mood. “But I’m always up for trying something new!” I say, pasting on a smile.
Keaton sets the jar down and places his hand over mine where it’s resting on the blanket. “You don’t have to hide from me or pretend everything is okay.” His intensity is almost too much to bear, and I look away, fighting back tears for some stupid reason. “Look at me, Roxy,” he says softly. When I do, his golden-brown eyes search mine, reaching down into the very depths of my soul. “I want your story. All of it. Even the painful parts. Let me in, beautiful. I promise I won’t let you down.”
My bottom lip trembles as I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I never met my dad, and I don’t remember much about my mom, just that she was an addict with undiagnosed mental health issues. My first memory is watching her leave with her friends. I was five. She never came back.”
“Roxy,” Keaton murmurs, moving closer to me. I lean into him, taking solace in his embrace. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, his fingertips brushing along the bare skin of my arm in a comforting gesture.
“I don’t remember how long I was alone, but I was later told it was almost three days. I just knew I was hungry and thirsty and needed help. When I figured out how to open the door, I wandered down the street and all over until I recognized a cop car. It was parked with a bunch of other cop cars, so I figured that’s where the police lived and they could help.”
“Did they?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, nodding my head. “I wandered into the police station looking disgusting and pathetic, and social services were called right away. It was a whirlwind of getting me cleaned up and fed. I was in the hospital for several days because of dehydration and malnutrition. After that, it was off to my first foster family.”
I shrug, feeling raw and sensitive. No one at Sea Change knows about my less-than-ideal origin story. They know about the foster families, but being abandoned and left for dead by your mother is too pathetic of a story to burden anyone with.
Keaton pulls me into his lap and wraps himself around me, engulfing me in his strength and warmth. I curl up in his embrace, feeling completely seen and wholly accepted. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t have to. My man is soaking up all my pain and sadness, leaving me feeling lighter than ever.
“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he whispers. “You’re so brave, Roxy. So damn strong. I’m in awe of your kind heart, even though life has given you every reason to be bitter. You inspire me.”
I lean back a bit so I can look at Keaton. I have no idea how to respond to his sweet words, so I run my fingers through his short beard, loving how he hums in contentment. “Have I earned a glass of wine yet?” I ask, giving him a sassy smile.
“Definitely,” he says with a chuckle. He lifts me from his lap and deposits me down next to him as if I weigh nothing.
Keaton pours the wine, and we load the paper plates with food. I take a bite of the sandwich, moaning at the buttery, flaky croissant with prosciutto, some kind of fig jam, and creamy cheese.
Keaton is staring right at me when I open my eyes. “That good, huh?”
