Page 16 of Late to Love

Yesterday was bad enough, being forced to work alongside him and realizing just how fun he is to be around. Now this? How much more does the universe think I can take?

Resigned, I shade my eyes and watch him make his way across the powdery sand, his powerful legs flexing and damn near glinting in the sun. There’s no point in not looking. Why deprive myself?

He pulls up next to me and sits, not bothering with any sort of towel. The scent of his beard oil catches on the breeze, warm and woodsy, along with sweat, and maybe a hint of bourbon from bartending. I don’t bother talking; if I’ve learned anything with the man, it’s that he’ll speak when he’s ready and not a moment sooner.

It takes him two minutes. Two minutes that feel like two hours. Two minutes to keep my anxious mouth shut. Two minutes in which I try, and fail, to keep my heart rate under control as I stare fixedly at the ocean. He shifts to face me, his eyes still shaded behind the Wayfarers. “How do you know about my secret spot?”

The question is jarring, and there’s no keeping the shock out of my voice as I say, “Are you serious? It’smysecret spot!”

His lips turn up the tiniest bit, and I have a feeling he’s amused. Still, not another word.

Ugh. If that’s how he’s going to be, fine. I won’t speak, either. I come here for the quiet and peace it brings, and dammit, Anthony Hall is not going to ruin that for me.

But…it’s difficult. If someone is around, I want to talk to them. To fill the silence. So I try. I try really, really hard not to speak, digging twin divots into the sand with my feet as the minutes go by.

“Why are you so quiet?” he finally asks.

Oh, thank God. The words come out in a rush, as though a boulder had been lifted off my chest and oxygen was finally flowing back into my lungs. “I was trying to be quiet for you—I know I’m a lot; people tell me that enough so I guess it’s true—but it was a special kind of torture, I’m not going to lie.”

“Don’t do that.” He issues the directive to the ocean.

“Do what?”

“Change yourself. Not for me, not foranyone, but sure as hell not for me.”

I open my mouth, but the man has rendered me mute.

He snorts. “At least this time you’re quiet because I shut you up.”

I’d let you shut me up any time you want.

The thought blooms, and heat stings my cheeks.

He notices, because his lips twitch faintly beneath his beard.

I refuse to let him have the upper hand, so I launch. “It’ll be busy tomorrow. Some guys are coming to measure for the paneling, which will be attached to the ceiling and secured on the floor. I’ve got some great ideas about the colors…” I keep going, filling the silence space with details I’m certain I’ve already gone over with him, but I can’t help it.

He reaches his hand out and touches my knee, and I stop talking. It’s a tap, a tiny whiff of contact, but it’s enough to send my blood boiling. Then he pulls his knees up and rests his arms on them, lowering his head to the cradle of his forearms. Greedily, I stare at the riot of colorful tattoos, using the time to catalogue how the cords of his muscles ripple with every twist of his wrist, the dark hair that dusts his arms and even his hands. “Sorry.”

I didn’t hear him correctly. “What?”

He takes a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m sorry.”

Oh, if he only knew.“Why?”

He lifts his head to me.

“Will you please take the sunglasses off?” I can’t take it anymore.

Wordlessly, he pulls them off. And I nearly pass out.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Anthony so unguarded. His hazel irises are like stained glass, flecks of gold nestled into sea green and surrounded by a band of navy. They are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever had the pleasure of beholding, and it feels like the more I stare, the more he seems to see into me, as well.

Clearing my throat, I manage, “Don’t apologize for touching me. Ever.” Using his phrasing is all I can think to do.

He blinks, tearing his gaze from me in the process. I want his focus back on me so badly that I whine.

He whips his head back to me, clocking the tiny mewl that I let escape. But he says nothing, just stares.