Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Why would we put one out?” Her forehead puckered.
“Because we own the beach, at least up to the tide line.” Understanding dawned. “You’ve never been on a private beach, have you?”
She shook her head. “Always public.”
I blew my breath out in a long sigh. This girl was going to be the death of me. “Okay. Do you know how to recognize a riptide?”
“No. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been headed for one.” Her eyebrow arched, and the tension drained out of my muscles as I fought the urge to laugh.
Of course she would throw sass at me right after I saved her ass. Again.
“Okay. Let me show you.” I let go of her shoulders and moved to stand next to her as another wave washed by, rising against our bodies. “It’s easier to see from shore, but watch the waves break. See how they break over there, and here, but not in that center area?”
I stepped behind her and pointed, my arm grazing her cheek so she could follow easily. Her head came to the perfect height—she’d be able to rest it in the hollow of my shoulder if she turned around. It would be ridiculously easy to kiss her—
Nope. No. Not happening. Stop it.
“I see,” she said, nodding her head.
I immediately dropped my arm. “Right. So that area in the center doesn’t have any waves breaking, because that’s where the ocean sucks the water back out quickly. Hence the term riptide.”
She spun, looking up at me with a perplexed look on her face.
Yep, I’d been right. She’d fit snugly against me, and I wouldn’t even have to bend far to get my mouth—
I took a step back and hoped I wasn’t obvious as hell.
“But I was out in that exact spot when I found the sea glass.”
“The sea glass,” I repeated like an idiot. What was this, high school? I was sixteen again, getting caught staring at Stacy Anderson during English instead of paying attention. Except Morgan was ten times more…everything than Stacy had been.
“Right. The day you pulled your Aquaman stunt?” She folded her arms under her breasts, pushing the curves up.
I didn’t look.
I deserved fucking sainthood, because that qualified as a miracle.
“Aquaman?” Stop repeating what she says, you moron.
“You know, when you came out of the ocean all Lord of the Fish or whatever and then started jogging? Though I honestly thought you looked more like Captain America at the time. Still kind of do, actually.” She tilted her head in clear appraisal of my features.
“The day I first saw you?”
“You remember that? It was only a few seconds.” Goose bumps rose on her arms, but I’d barely registered the water’s temperature until right now. It was way worse last month, but it was still good and chilled in here.
“Yes. Clear as day.” How the hell could I not? It was the only time I’d ever seen her completely unguarded, her emotions on full display. “I mean, it might not have been as colorful an impression as the one you made later that day, but yes, I knew it was you.”
A blush stung her cheeks, and she mumbled something about burning that pair of underwear.
“Sea glass, huh?” I asked to get both of our minds off her underwear.
She nodded. “I found the prettiest blue piece. I love that something plain like a broken jam jar can be transformed by the cold saltwater and rough sand over years and years. Kind of like what hurts actually refines it, if that makes any sense.”
Another piece of the puzzle that was Morgan clicked into place. This woman knew pain, and not just in a general sense. In the very real, raw, intimate way that changed a person—refined them like the sea glass.
“It makes all the sense in the world.” My voice dropped, as if it couldn’t physically support the weight of the charged air between us. I swallowed, my throat a little tighter than usual. “That day, we were at low tide. You were standing on the same sandbar you are now, but there was no water. The best time to find sea glass, actually. The next time we’re both around at low tide, I’ll show you how to spot where the rips will be when the tide comes back.”
“Thank you. It would be nice to get through a week where you don’t have to come to my rescue.” She rubbed the tops of her arms quickly.
“I don’t mind,” I assured her.
“And I appreciate that, but I do mind.” Her words were soft, taking the sting out of what felt a little like rejection. “I need to know I can stand on my own. It’s why I moved here. Why I chose a house that looks like Morticia Addams did the exterior design.”
Okay, I’d give her that one.
“So, if I can get through a week where I don’t nearly get myself killed, stuck, or struck in the head by something that you need to rescue me from, that would be a great start.”