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I snort a laugh. “And maybe someday I’ll tell you,” I reply casually, stuffing my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“So you’re going to have to stay out there, right?” she asks, pointing out into the vast mass of water.
“Yeah, I should be able to drop anchor about a hundred or hundred-fifty yards out.”
“And then you’ll use your little dingy?” she asks innocently.
“Well, I’ve never had it referred to as little before,” I reply casually, biting my cheek to keep from smiling.
Her head whips around to face me as the most stunning red blush creeps up her neck and stains her entire face. Her hands come up to cover her mouth. “I didn’t…I mean, that’s not…Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that.”
I can’t help but laugh at her embarrassment and discomfort. “Yes, Marissa, I will use my little dingy to get from my boat to the shore. It’s actually a small, portable boat, made super lightweight and versatile.” And because I’m a total dog and player, I add, “And if you’re ever worried about the size of my other dingy, just let me know and I’ll be happy to show you.”
Marissa suddenly bursts out laughing and takes a swat at my arm. “Oh my God, that was the cheesiest and worst line I’ve ever heard. Does that garbage really work?” she asks through her fits of laughter.
The smile on my face is wide and easy. I’ve never – and I really do mean never – felt this comfortable with a woman in such a casual situation, especially one I met less than thirty minutes ago. Hell, most of the time I’m only after one thing (and so are they). There’s no small talk, no banter. Just flirting and sex.
But with Marissa, I find myself wanting to talk.
Talk.
Who the hell am I?
“Actually, most of the time, I’m not the one with the lines,” I tell her honestly, throwing in a smile and a wink just for good measure.
“I don’t doubt it,” she mumbles and turns back to the ocean.
We stand there in comfortable silence for much longer than I would have anticipated. It’s a little too cozy, though, and the need to run from the unfamiliar feelings starts to take hold. That’s exactly why I need to leave. Get away from this gorgeous woman. Head into town and find someone a little more my…taste.
“Well, I should head out,” I say, taking a step back and pulling her attention my way once more. I can practically tell she’s shutting down on me. Her arms come up to hold themselves at her waist and her face turns polite. Almost too polite. Fake, even.
“Of course. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” she says brightly, though the green sparkle in her eyes seems just a fraction duller.
Is it wrong that I wish she were looking at me once more with that bright shimmer, that bubbly personality I try to avoid at all costs?
Yes, it’s wrong.
But that doesn’t stop me from wanting it.
“Tomorrow,” I confirm before turning and heading back the way we came.
Just as I reach the tree line, I turn to see if she’s following me. She’s not. Marissa stands at the shoreline still, gazing out at miles and miles of ocean, a look of sadness on her beautiful face. Something pulls deeply in my chest as I take in her posture, her demeanor…her loneliness. It calls to me like a siren, familiar and unafraid.
I know sadness.
I know loneliness.
That’s why I drop my head and turn away. That’s why I practically run back to my truck to get as far away from this woman, this temptation, as possible. Because for the first time in…forever, I want to turn around. I want to wrap my arms around her petite body and make her smile that awe-inspiring smile once more. I want to wipe those smudges of soot from her cheeks moments before my lips find hers. I want…more.
And I can’t have more.
Never again.
More hurts.
* * *
I open the heavy wooden door to a place called The Station. The familiar neon glow of beer signs and liquor displays surrounds me the moment I walk in. Maroon 5 plays from the jukebox in the corner, and a handful of patrons turn to see who enters. There’s not too many people, mostly guys actually, and I can already sense that tonight is going to be a bust.
