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“Oh,” I say. “I might. It’s not really something I’ve thought about. People seem to use a lot of apps these days, and that’s not really something I’m keen on.”
He makes a deep humming noise and falls silent again. I look over at the sky and the quickly moving clouds. Our conversations are always like that. They take unexpected routes and always end up in places I never anticipate.
“Will you?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I don’t really have any plans to.”
“Same as me, then.”
He hums again. It’s become a familiar sound these days. An answer that’s neither yes nor no, just a deep rumble in his throat.
“I’m not looking forward to going home,” I say. The wind sweeps in gently from the ocean, like a warm caress. I close my eyes at the sensations—the breeze, the sound of waves, and the sand beneath my left foot.
“Not many days left,” he says.
The words send a shiver of anticipation through me. I don’t look at him, but I’m aware of him nonetheless, just a few feet beside me. “Only a few.”
“Yes,” he says. “Wonder what you’ll get up to.”
“Who knows? I could do anything at all,” I say. “I heard those fancy bungalows have private pools. Might go skinny-dipping.”
His breath hitches. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Funny, that. I have a bungalow.”
“No, you do?”
“Yes.”
I bite my lower lip to hide my smile. Flirting is fun. I can’t remember ever doing it like this before, relishing the deepening attraction. With Caleb, it had been over and done with quickly. Both of us fell into a comfortable twoness on the second date.
I reach for my sunscreen and sit up. “I’m thinking of flipping over,” I say. “Would you mind?”
Phillip holds out a hand. “I can do it.”
I turn my back to him and sit still. This is the second time we’re doing this, but on the first, we’d still been cautious—two strangers, not knowing the limits of the other.
His hands sweep over my back in warm strokes. They linger at my waist, my lower back, and skim the edge of my bikini bottoms.
“You’re thorough,” I murmur.
His voice is a whisper against my right ear, and against my neck, his newly grown beard tickles. “I always am, Eden.”
“Yes… I know.”
His hands glide along the sides of my chest one final time. “How are you feeling?” he murmurs, and I know he’s asking about yesterday. Words dance on the tip of my tongue.
On the beach, someone claps loudly.
We both turn to see an employee from the hotel, wearing the Winter Resort uniform, standing on the beach with a big smile on his face.
“Sorry to bother everyone!” he says. “But this week’s Winter Olympics is about to begin in the courtyard garden. We have a spot left, so if there’s a couple interested in competing against other guests, we’d love to have you. We start in ten minutes!”
He smiles again and heads back up the beach, toward the main building.
I chuckle. “The Winter Olympics?”
