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I tap my mug on the table. “You really want to argue this point?”
Her gaze flits to the windows behind me.
“Besides, don’t forget, I had a gun, too.” Not that I would have needed one had I malintent.
Moisture again, this time seeping from the corners of her eyes, and it’s killing me. She swats at the tear.
Softening my tone, I voice a question it’s never occurred to me to ask before. “Why? Why’d you do it, Lise?”
She swats at her cheek. “That’s none of your business!”
To be sure, she’s correct on that point. I ease back, coffee cooling in my hands.
Again, she surprises me by dignifying my nosiness. “I’ve just…I…I’m not in the best place right now.”
Now this, I understand. “Ditto on that.”
She stares at me a moment, then scrapes her chair back. Abandoning her coffee, she heads for the patio door. Honestly, I expected it sooner.
A surprising string of words unwinds from my lips. “Walk on the beach?” Can’t say if my initial intent was to addtogetherto my tone, but that’s the way it tumbled out.
She freezes. Turns. “With you?”
I grin. “All that nature, it clears the mind.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
I shrug, not wanting to own up to being as surprised by the invitation as she is.
And then she agrees, and mind. Blown. “Alright then.” I throw back the remains of my coffee and stand. “Meet you on the patio in five.”
She may not show, but I’m out the door before she can tell me she’s changed her mind.
Annalise
This is stupid.
I’mstupid.
And yet, I dash up the stairs, yank off my depression sweats, and pull on a pair of dad-approved shorts, one of the few such pair I still own. I trade my high school church camp t-shirt for a white tank—my skin desperately needs some sun—and tug my hair into a high ponytail.
I’m on the patio inside of five minutes. About the time I realize I shouldn’t appear eager, should probably cancel altogether, Marco steps out of the cabana, and I must say…no wonder I fell for his charms last night. I don’t think he’s quite six-foot, but he’s well-muscled, square-jawed, and the white fishing shirt he’s changed into provides a striking contrast to his naturally tanned skin. I don’t have a problem with tattoos on men—in my generation, who does? Like my brother’s, his are overkill, but they complete a picture that leaves no room for complaint. No question, he’s attractive.
My step falters. I do not need to be thinking this way about Marco.
My brother’s partner.
The guy who picked you up last night?
Hello.
Approaching me, he wears a wide smile, and I’ve no good options here. We meet at the edge of the patio and take the steps down to the beach. Only a handful of people are in sight. It gets that way on this stretch once summer has ended. I love home this time of year.
In our bare feet, we cross the sand until water pools around our feet, then parallel the shore as the frothy surf rolls in around them. Marco maintains a friendly distance, tucking his hands in his cargo shorts, the sea breeze whipping his loose shirt.
I’m inexplicably washed with a feeling of peace, so I close my eyes for a moment and let the sun warm my face. “I love it here.”
“It’s growing on me, too.”
