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Chapter Eight
Addi
“We meet again, beach cutie.”
I turn away from my very important task of people watching to find Cole standing next to me.
“Hi there, beach buddy?” I try to think of something funny ... but it's stupid. I laugh at myself.
Smooth, Addi.
Cole chuckles and shakes his head as he runs a hand through his wet hair. Water drips down his face and onto his bare tanned chest. My knees go weak at the sight, my stomach twisting like a vise.
I hold myself back from licking my lips. He looks utterly delicious. A Greek god emerging from the ocean, like Leigh said.
It’s weird seeing him in the daylight without the haze of alcohol. He’s everything I remembered, and then some.
“I missed you the other morning.”
Awkward. How do I explain myself? I didn’t want to wake up next to you afraid I’d never leave? Or I didn’t want to have morning sex so good I’d never not be addicted?
Or how about I couldn’t face that gorgeous face of yours in the morning?
Instead, I chose to sneak out, hoping no one saw my walk of shame. I couldn’t face the awkwardness of the morning after, especially with how hungover I was.
I look away and bite my lip. “Sorry, all the alcohol was not being nice to me or my stomach.”
“I feel you there. It was a rough day for me too. I canceled some of my morning before finally dragging my ass to the shop. Are you enjoying the view?” Cole asks, the corner of his lip turned up playfully as he gestures around him, the beach particularly crowded today.
“Yep, quite the entertainment. People never cease to amaze.”
“You're right about that.”
“How was your swim?” I ask, sneaking an extra-long look at him. Flashes of the other night replay in my head. All the dirty things we did, the nasty, sinful things, fill my mind, and my cheeks heat. I clench my thighs together, the desire to rub the ache in my lady parts almost unbearable.
“Swim?” He glances down at himself. “Ohh, I just got done with a lesson. I wish it were a nice swim. After my day is done, maybe.”
I don't catch the last word he says, a whoosh of what seems like air rushing by me so fast, it knocks me off balance, and my bag of painting supplies flies off my shoulder.
“Watch out! No, Rocky!” I hear Cole yell in the background, but all I see are my brushes and paint, the very expensive art materials I hold near and dear, strewn all over the wet sand.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I lament as the situation sinks in, my canvases, my brushes, all of it waterlogged and sandy.
“Addi, I'm so sorry. I'll replace it, pay for it, whatever.” Cole helps me, handing me various items. “That dog has been out of control lately.”
“It's all right, not your fault. I should've seen him coming.” I crouch down and pick up a couple of the canvases, the artwork now destroyed and seeping together. At least a week’s worth of time went into these paintings that I planned to sell. I sigh and blink back the tears.
Always something.
“Is this your artwork? The artwork you wanted to sell at my shop?” Cole crouches down next to me, Rocky farther away but lying down looking guilty as all hell. Yeah, you cute dog. You owe me. Big time.
I nod and finish packing up the rest of what fell out. The funny thing is, I haven't been able to paint the past few days. My hangover kicked my ass for a day, but since then, it's like I forgot how to paint, my creative well suddenly dry. Hence why I was standing here people watching, hoping something would spark my interest.
“It's beautiful.” Cole runs his hand over a water damaged painting and then hands it back to me. “You're talented.”
“Thanks,” I whisper. A thousand somersaults, that's what it feels like my heart’s doing at this very moment. He thinks I'm talented?
We both stand. “Let me make this up to you. How about we meet up to talk about our business arrangement? I'll replace your things as well.”
