I busied my hands on the table, pretending I wasn’t watching him as he hummed a considerably off-key tune. Our meal had his complete attention. I silently admitted that I could get used to this kind of pastime. Ishouldn’t, though.
That would make it hurt all the more.
“When’s the last time this thing’s been used?” Rhett muttered as he scrutinized the inside of my oven.
“Eh…” I waved my hand. “Give or take four years?”
He tossed the cut baby potatoes and carrots in what looked to be olive oil and some seasoning before spreading it on a pan for the oven. “This is going to take a while,” he said, closing the creaking door and turning to me with crossed arms. “And the steaks have to rest at room temperature.”
“Yes, Chef,” I replied with a hidden smile.
Rhett promptly washed his hands and slung the dish towel over his left shoulder. “Is there anything you need to get done in the meantime?”
“Walk Easton,” I blurted out and immediately wanted to smack myself. “I need to walk Easton,” I repeated, slower and slightly less like a lunatic.
He smiled. “Let’s do it then.”
The thought dawned on me, as I snapped Easton’s harness in place, that I had no ideawhyRhett was here. With the festival closing in and Marigold’s all but finished, there was no reason for us to be around each other. Was it some sort of goodbye dinner? Was this his way of telling me that he was leaving town?
My chest went tight, the familiar ache of a goodbye waiting to happen.
Easton yanked on my arm the second we stepped onto the porch. I shrieked and lurched down the stairs, narrowly keeping my feet beneath me as he hurtled down the path and waited rather impatiently at the gate.
“Sorry,” I shouted over my shoulder. “He gets a little excited about our evening walks. Do we have time to go to the beach?”
Rhett checked his watch as he leaned past me to open the gate. “That should be fine.”
As Easton barreled onto the sidewalk, I caught a whiff of something heady. It was warm, earthy and vaguely spicy. It wasRhett.
Rhett was wearing cologne.
I was glad for the cooling evening air that would account for the furious blush on my face.
We kept a comfortable silence all the way to the beach, laughing occasionally as Easton chased a bird or barked at a gull in the sky. Our shoulders brushed every few minutes, and I wanted nothing more than to slip my arm through his. It clouded my thoughts with dizzying intensity. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could act like the mounting, unspoken tension between us wasn’t entirely distracting.
Rhett trudged through the sand in his boots, eyebrows stitched together as he shook them off every few seconds.
“You know, most people go to the beach barefoot,” I said, waving my sandals at him.
“In my defense, I wasn’t prepared for this.” He sighed in relief as we got to the hard-packed sand. “Next time I will be,” he added under his breath, causing my heart to do funny things.
Next time. The words shot through my mind like sparklers.
Easton splashed me the second we got to the water, shooting us an open-mouthed smile before tugging me down the beach. By the time he had his fill in the ocean, my jeans were soaked from the knees down. Rhett stood just beyond where the waves stretched, hands in his pockets and a wide, goofy grin on his face.
The sky was streaked by hues of lilac and bubblegum, shining across the water and washing everything on the beach in pastel. My breath hitched in my throat as I smiled back at him, vowing to myself to never forget this picture. This was how I wanted to remember him when he left for California. His open smile, a spun sugar sunset, crashing waves at my feet and fireworks deep in my chest.
I couldn’t forget it even if I tried.
Easton pulled at my arm again, sprinting full speed at a seagull he spotted down the beach. Laughing, I tried to keep up with him, but was so focused on staying upright that I ran straight into a brick wall.
A very warm, very handsome brick wall.
Rhett’s arms wrapped around my waist as he stumbled backward to keep me from falling. A lock of dark hair drifted across his forehead with the breeze, but he made no move to fix it. I studied the depth of his chocolate eyes, committing them to memory. If Easton wasn’t barking, I’d be sure that time had paused.
Slowly, as if afraid to spook me, he reached up and tucked a small curl behind my ear. His fingertips lit a trail of fire where they traced.
Easton yanked on the leash again, but this time at something behind me, and then back in the other direction. We both looked down with breathless laughs. He’d successfully wrapped our legs together.
