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Goddamn, something in me wanted Lark Butler to be mine.
10
LARK
That nightI had a fitful night’s sleep where I imagined how differently things would have gone had I accepted Wyatt’s invitation. The dangerous rumble of his voice when he ground out“Inside”still sent a shiver through me.
Stupid. Stupid, Lark.
I stepped out of Bluebird Books and into the afternoon sunlight. Of all the places I’d traveled, none had been quite as picturesque as Outtatowner. I breathed in the warm, humid air and tipped my face to the sun.
Who would have thought?
After stopping at my car, I slung the small bag with my bikini, a cover-up, and a towel over my shoulder. I ditched my shoes and socks. A lazy afternoon on the beach was calling me.
In the short time I’d been there, more and more tourists had descended on the small town every day. Happy families and groups of teenagers walked along the sidewalk that passed the marina, cafés, and other little shops that led down to the water. I dipped into the small building that served as a restroom and concession stand, the Sand Dollar, to peel off my jean shorts and tank top.
My bikini was cute, with a bright-yellow top that wrapped around my boobs and made them look bigger than they actually were. It dipped low in the back, and the ties crisscrossed into a big loopy bow. The bottoms were my favorite part—a navy background with lemons and leaves gave off the perfect, happy summer vibes. The high sides and ties at my hips, combined with the peekaboo cut in back, was sexy without revealing mywholeass. It also packed well, and I could dig it out of a suitcase and throw it on whenever I pulled up to a beach town.
Over the top, I threw on a knitted cover-up that was more like a giant long-sleeved shirt. The large boho knit allowed a breeze to float through and also didn’t give me weird tan lines. I’d forgotten flip-flops, so when I cut across the full parking lot, I had to run on tiptoe to keep the bottoms of my feet from burning.
It was no surprise that on such a gorgeous day the beach was packed with people, even though it was only midweek. I wove between coolers and large umbrellas and little kids building sand castles and digging moats. When I smiled at a little blond-haired boy, he gave me a sandy, gap-toothed grin, and I felt lighter than I had in days.
My toes dipped into the cool Lake Michigan water, and I exhaled. My stress melted away, and I let the waves lap over my feet. For a moment, it felt like summer and its endless possibilities were just beginning. To the right was a long concrete pier with a lighthouse on the end. On the other side, as far as I could see, the beach stretched on and on. Rocky outcroppings jutted into the water where the land refused to be taken by the vast Great Lake. Behind me, massive sand dunes loomed overhead. Hundreds of feet above the water, it was like nothing I had ever seen. I walked around one of the fallen trees that dotted the shoreline. Its massive roots jutted into the air, water and time having stripped it of bark and leaves and life. The waves from the lake had cut into the earth in places, and with a brush of my hand, sand trickled down and fell to become a part of the beach.
I could come back in a year and I bet nothing would be the same.
It was amazing how much time changed things—even those things, like earth itself, that seemed so constant.
On top of the dunes people walked through the tall grasses, exploring and looking out over the beach from above. Older kids were running, arms and legs flailing, down the huge sand piles and splashing into the water below with roaring laughter.
I made my way up toward the dunes and found a small worn-down footpath that climbed up, up, up, to the top of one of the dunes. My calves burned, and my toes dug into the soft, shifting sand.
Holy crap. I need to work out more.
I bent at the waist to catch my breath and calm my overexerted heart. The roots of the wispy beach grass stuck up in places, poking my feet, and the sun heated the sand. It was a wonder anything could grow where there seemed to be so little nutrients in the arid sand itself. Finally, at the top of the dune, I looked out onto Lake Michigan.
It was breathtaking.
The water stretched out forever, disappearing into the horizon. People below me were nothing more than little ants, dancing and moving around the beach. From that vantage point, I could see that the main strip of beach was packed tightly with families and umbrellas and volleyball games, but farther down, it was far less crowded. In the distance, large buildings that looked to be condos orreallyexpensive vacation homes dotted the shoreline. Between the two, there were quiet stretches of beachfront that seemed cocooned from the chaos of the public beach area.
Intrigued, I headed in that direction, searching for a way to return to the shoreline. I smiled at a couple hiking and stopped to watch more kids hurl themselves down the dunes. They laughed and jeered at each other as one by one they raced down the steep slope.
No. Freaking. Way.
When I’d gotten to the quieter section of beach, there wasn’t a clear way to make it down to the water. Much farther along a set of wooden stairs zigzagged down the dune, but it appeared to be private property, and the last thing I needed was to get into trouble when I was so new in town.
I peered over the edge of what felt like a gigantic cliff. I tested my footing with a little bounce. If I could just get down to the water, I could explore a little and then walk my way back up the beach toward town. I searched a little more until I found where the sand dune wasn’t quite so steep. It seemed stable enough, so with a final deep breath, I carefully stepped down.
The sand was dryer and more like quicksand than I anticipated.
“Shit!” I plopped to my butt and inelegantly slid part of the way down the dune. My bag bounced behind me as I tried my best to not face-plant. It slipped from my shoulder and careened off the dune, landing below me with a plop. Finally, my heels dug into the moving sand and slowed me to a stop about two-thirds of the way down the dune.
Embarrassed, I looked around to see if anyone had seen me make a fool of myself, and—thankfully—no one was nearby. I caught my breath and looked for a safer way to get to the beach. Preferably one that didn’t include breaking my neck. I could always walk up the beach and retrieve my bag.
I tried to stand, but the earth shifted below me.
Well, shit.
