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BEAU
The sun had barely risenpast the horizon like a glowing orange ball rising from the water as I did my morning run along the beach. I tried not to take the same path more than three days in a row to keep things fresh, and the stretch of beach this morning was quiet. There was nothing and no one but me, the gulls, and the crashing waves. Usually I encountered other runners, people taking their dogs out for a walk, or early risers starting their day, but this morning, I basked in the solitude, letting my mind wander to the one person who seemed to consume my every thought.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what that guy at the bar the other night had said about Presley working to make Dropped Anchor hers and what exactly he’d been talking about. Why she needed to be a fighter.
I remembered her working there in college. She’d been a waitress back then, but it was obvious from watching her the other night that she played a much more pivotal role these days. Not only had I heard several of the staff refer to her asboss, but whenever someone needed an answer or had a problem, she was the one they deferred to. Clearly, she had a large hand in runningthe place, and from what I’d witnessed, she was doing a damn good job at it.
Watching her in her element like that, seeing how she was so open and warm and friendly with everyone, I would have been lying if I said it wasn’t a massive turn-on. I’d never get tired of seeing that smile. But at the same time, seeing her give that smile to everyone but me was starting to weigh on me. Back in high school I’d been able to brush it off, but now that we were both adults, I couldn’t let it go near as easily. I wanted that smile for myself. I wanted her to look at me and watch her expressive eyes light up and glow gold with happiness. I loved the spice too, don’t get me wrong, but I wanted her to look at me like she looked at the people she cared about. Or hell, even the way she’d smiled at that Mike Perry asshole the night of the reunion.
She’d looked at me like that once, so I knew how addictive one of Presley Fields’s smiles were. I knew that having it pointed at you hit you right in the goddamn chest like a sunbeam, warming you from the inside. Even from the deepest, darkest places you thought would never see the light.
That was all her. She was light. Pure and golden. For a split second in time, I’d had that in the palm of my hands. Then I’d gone and fucked it all up, and there hadn’t been a day in all the years since that I didn’t hate myself for it.
My lungs burned and beads of sweat slipped down the back of my neck and down my spine as I dug my feet into the sand and pumped my arms harder while cresting a sand dune. As soon as I made it to the other side I caught sight of someone in the distance. I couldn’t make out who it was or what they were doing until I got closer and caught slow, rhythmic movements as the person adjusted their body from one yoga pose to another with such ease, they looked like they were flowing as smooth as the water sliding across the sand along the shoreline.
The closer I got, the better I could make out the person’s features. Then, as if the low clouds in the sky parted just for me, a beam of sunlight cut through the early morning fog, clinging to the air and landing right on her like a spotlight, lighting up the cornsilk hair hanging down her back from the ponytail at the top of her head.
I would have known that particular shade of blonde anywhere, and at the sight of it, my body started moving faster of its own accord. I didn’t have to tell it how to react when it came to that woman. It just knew. If she was near, I wanted to be as close as possible. It was as though a tether had formed between us the first moment I’d spotted her at twelve years old, and despite the time and distance, it never snapped. It was still there between us, pulling me to her.
More of her came into better view, and I saw firsthand as Presley flowed from pose to pose, her long, lithe body moving with ease and precision. She was dressed in the shortest pair of fucking shorts I’d ever seen, the spandex material looking painted on and cupping her perfect peach of an ass, with a tight camisole that clung to her body, accentuating the dip in her waist and molding to her breasts. With more than thirty yards between us, she still managed to make me hard without even trying, not the most convenient thing to have to deal with while wearing athletic shorts.
As I closed in, slowing from a run to a jog, she folded herself onto the mat she had stretched out on the sand and sat facing the ocean, her long, toned legs crisscrossed in front of her, her palms resting on her knees. I slowed to a walk, not wanting to startle her, and noticed her eyes were closed. She wore the most serene expression, her face tilted slightly upward toward the rising sun. Even now, the tiniest smile graced her perfect rosy lips.
God, she was beautiful.
The last thing I wanted to do was ruin this moment, but I couldn’t stand there watching her without her knowledge either. That was the kind of shit restraining orders were made of.
“Morning,” I greeted, and the instant those brown eyes flipped open and landed on me, it felt like getting slammed in the chest by the biggest, baddest offensive tackle in the league.
Her full lips parted on a surprised breath, puckering into a pretty littleOas she looked up at me. “Beau? What are you doing here?”
I wiped at the sweat that had built up on my forehead with the back of my hand before throwing a thumb over my shoulder. “Just out for my morning run.”
I’d never been happier to have stripped my shirt off during the run than I was just then. It was obvious she was trying her hardest to keep her focus on my face, but I didn’t miss the way her gaze kept darting down to my torso every few seconds, like she couldn’t help herself.
“Oh, uh...” Her tongue came out, swiping across her bottom lip. “I’ve never seen you out here.”
“I try to switch things up now and then, keep it from getting boring. What about you?” I pointed down at the mat. “Do you do yoga here every morning?” Because that would sure as hell play a role in me deciding where I’d run every morning from here on out.
“Not every morning. I like to sleep in on the nights I work until close at the bar. But other than that, yeah.” She looked out at the water, her chest heaving on a deep breath, like staring out at the ocean brought her peace. “This is the kind of view you never get used to, you know? Takes my breath away each and every time.”
“I know what you mean,” I said as my gaze remained locked on her, my voice coming out low and deep. Her eyes darted back to me, blinking as her cheeks flushed that prettiest pink in theearly morning light. She knew I wasn’t talking about the ocean. Hell, we both did.
I pointed at a spot on the sand beside her. “Mind if I sit?” I asked before she could make an excuse to take off. It was just the two of us on this stretch of beach, and I wanted to keep her here with me as long as possible. Fuck the rest of my run.
She looked at the ground like she wanted to say no, make up some reason to send me away. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down before finally answering, “Sure, I guess. I mean, it’s a public beach.”
It wasn’t exactly the welcome I’d been hoping for, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t blame her for keeping her guard up. When we were younger, I’d given her no other choice but to build those sky-high, steel-reinforced walls.
It took everything in me not to plop down on the sand beside her and, instead, lower myself at a reasonable pace, but the longer I was in Whitecap and the more time I spent in her presence, the harder it was to keep from turning into a lovesick puppy that wanted to follow her around all day every day.
My conversation with Colbie earlier that week popped into my head, and I knew I needed to apologize. I didn’t have the first fucking clue where to start. So I decided to kick things off with small talk, hoping the chance to tell her how sorry I was for treating her so shitty in the past would pop up organically.
“You know, I almost forgot what it was like, being so close to the water like this. It’s funny how your mind tends to forget things the longer you’re away from them.” I was discovering that was true with most things—well, except for Presley, of course. I’d forgotten how it was, living in a small town, how it felt to be next to the ocean instead of the desert. But I never forgot how Presley made me feel. Not ever.
She surprised me by actually engaging in the conversation. “What was Arizona like?”
“Hot,” I answered on a chuckle. “The days could be stifling, then the nights would nearly freeze you out. It definitely took some getting used to.”
