Page 39 of Endeavor

“Why a documentary?” I question her, clearing my throat as I pour myself a second glass of wine.

She swallows her wine and I watch her throat constrict with the simple action. It shouldn’t affect me, but it does. I want to wrap my hand around that throat and bring her lips to mine. I look back at the wine, fighting my libido.

She gives me a sweet smile. “I studied communications, journalism, in undergrad. Most of my friends went on to be anchors or investigative journalists, but I felt like unless you make it to the top, you don’t get to spend adequate time on the story. I wanted to really explore a topic, a story. My advisor suggested I consider doing documentaries, and, well, the rest is history, as they say.”

“That’s admirable. Why the environment?”

“Why not? We all need clean air and water to survive. It’s a topic that affects everyone, whether we want to see it or not.”

“True. How’s your project coming along?”

She grins. “Amazing. The contacts your mom and Andy gave me are…I just keep pinching myself. I’m going to be able to make the documentary so much better with their help than I could have ever imagined,” she says, the excitement palpable in her voice.

Her grin is infectious, and I find myself smiling back at her like a damn fool. I glance back down at the wine bottle, breaking the moment because my resolve to keep this not sexual is slowly dissipating under the spell of her charm.

She takes another sip of wine, swirling the liquid in her glass. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?” I ask, searching her face.

“Why music?”

I smile, covering my actual thoughts, which immediately go to a darker place. I decide on my canned response, because it’s safe, and because I’m not ready to reveal certain things yet. “I always loved music. After my dad died, I found healing from the trauma was helped with music. I had always played, but that’s when I started to take it seriously.”

“I’m sorry about your dad. That must have been…I can’t even imagine,” she says in a low voice that feels like a balm on my fractured soul.

“Thank you. It was a long time ago now, but…losing a parent is hard. You never really get over it.”

“I’m sure. I’m glad you have such good friends and family though,” she says earnestly.

“I do. I’m lucky,” I admit. Our conversation ceases as we both take bites of the cheese and crackers, looking out at the vista.

“It’s so peaceful up here,” she professes with a sigh as she pulls her knees to her chest and rests her arms and chin on top.

“That’s why I brought you here. I figured we needed a day out of the city.”

“I’m glad you did. It’s nice to be out of the city, in nature. I miss this,” she says as she leans her face up to the sun and breathes in deeply. She looks…Christ, she looks beautiful. The sun hits her pink cheeks. I notice for the first time that they are dotted with very light freckles. Her rosy lips glisten in the light. Her eyelashes fan out over her cheeks. Her hair is pulled up, half off her face. She looks…I have no words. She’s just breathtaking.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, my thoughts being vocalized suddenly. I freeze, surprised I spoke them.

Her eyes slowly open and she turns to me, her cheeks turning pinker by the second. “Uh, thanks,” she mutters as she tries not to make eye contact.

“I’m surprised you have trouble accepting compliments. I can’t be the first person to tell you this.”

“You’re just the first person to say it in a long time,” she discloses as she sips some more wine.

“That’s a damn shame. I’ll have to remember to say it more often.”

“You are really laying on the wooing today. Just to lower your expectations, Casanova, I’m not the type of girl to give it up on date number two.”

I frown. “Emma, I would never…I don’t expect anything to happen today. I truly just wanted to spend time with you, zero expectations.” I sigh and run a hand through my hair out of frustration. I don’t want to reveal my feelings yet. It’s only been a week. I take a breath and choose my words carefully, protecting my heart, which is more fragile than I care to admit. “I don’t do this…wooing thing often. I don’t know what it is about you, but…you intrigue me. I want to get to know you. And I’m sorry if my public persona, my asshole introduction to you, or your past experiences have made you question my motives today, but I promise you, I brought you out here so we could spend time together and have fun, that’s it.”

Her eyes are wide as she looks at me. It’s unnerving. I feel like those eyes have just seen the real me, the bullshit exterior has been removed, my emotional armor laid bare.

“I’m not that intriguing,” she replies with a shrug.

“You’re wrong about that. I haven’t been this intrigued about another person in…maybe forever,” I confess, my gaze penetrating hers.

She gives a small cough. “Well…uh, thanks? I think.”

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