Page 25 of Endurance

I was always a sucker for a sad story, and this was no exception. Considering how weak I was under Sloan’s gaze, it would only make it worse at a time when I needed to focus on the job at hand. As much as I was a spontaneous kind of person, I’d never been a big risk-taker. I was methodical with any decision I considered life-altering, especially when it came to my career. I loved my job and was grateful for the opportunity to work for my father’s firm. I’d worked way too hard to allow my hormones to mess it all up, and I didn’t want to do anything that could jeopardize it—especially considering the money that was at stake. If I wanted to stop pinching pennies, I needed to keep my eyes on the prize.

I’d taken an Uber to the restaurant since parking near the Santa Monica Pier was so expensive. However, I was beginning to wish I’d taken my own car. Standing out there waiting for an Uber inevitably meant I’d see Sloan when he came out. Glancing back and forth between the door to the restaurant and the beach, I made a split-second decision to head toward the water and began walking across the sand until I reached the Pacific shoreline.

The large Ferris wheel on the Santa Monica Pier could be seen in the distance, and the setting sun cast an orange and red glow, making the people on the beach look like nothing more than dark shadows. Everything felt hushed as the water lapped at the sand. I’d spent a lot of time on the beaches of Southern California when I’d been in college, enjoying the tranquil setting the sand and sea offered. I’d nearly forgotten how much I loved it.

A young couple holding hands walked past me. They looked fresh out of high school, oblivious to everyone around them as they ducked their heads together and laughed at their private joke. I smiled to myself, appreciating their young and innocent love. But at the same time, seeing them also made me feel sad. It reminded me of the phone call I’d made to Dean earlier and all the failed relationships that came before him. Perhaps the gypsy was right—I was doomed when it came to love.

As if the mere thought of Madame Lavinia stirred something in the air, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I felt something—like a presence—that caused goosebumps to rise on my arms despite the warm evening air. Instinctively, I slowly turned to look behind me.

Glancing in the direction of where I’d just come from, I saw Sloan standing on the edge of the restaurant’s walkway. Wrapping my arms around myself, I shivered. It wasn’t Madame Lavinia’s presence I’d felt—it was Sloan’s.

Even at this distance, I could see that he’d loosened the collar of his white dress shirt. It was now unbuttoned at the neck, and he had one thumb hooked into the right front pocket of his jeans. He stood tall and confident, oozing with power and an irresistible bad-boy vibe. The way he turned to look up and down the beach was almost as if he were searching for someone.

Is he looking for me?

I wasn’t sure, but I knew the minute he spotted me. Turning away, I continued down the beach, suddenly feeling very self-conscious of the way I walked through the sand with my sling-back heeled sandals. Without skipping a step, I slipped off each shoe, looped the back straps around my index finger, and continued walking.

A moment later, I heard my name called, and my heart began to race. Resigning myself to the inevitable, I turned around to see Sloan standing directly behind me.

“It’ll be dark soon. You shouldn’t be down here alone,” he said.

“I’m a big girl.”

I expected a retort of some kind, but he didn’t give one. Instead, he surprised me by reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch seemed to surge with electricity, causing my body to quiver from the brief contact.

“Do you like the beach, Kallie?”

“I do. But then again, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t. There’s just something calming about the ocean.”

“Very true,” he said thoughtfully, then angled his head to the side curiously. “I saw you yesterday in Long Beach. At least, I’m pretty sure it was you.”

I looked at him in surprise, suddenly remembering what he’d said on his doorstep that morning. He thought I was a woman he saw on the beach.

“That’s right. I was there yesterday. I don’t remember seeing you, though.”

“It’s probably good that you didn’t. My head is still fuzzy about what happened, but I definitely remember seeing you. You looked like a mermaid coming out of the ocean. And the rainbows—there was no mistaking that when you showed up at my door. That’s how I recognized you this morning. I really liked the rainbow weaves you’d had in your hair. Why did you change the color?”

I shrugged and thought about how much Dean despised the way I changed the color daily.

“I change the color based on how I feel that day. Some people wear clothes dictated by their mood. I swap out hair extensions. Ultimately, it’s an expression of myself. Rainbow is for when I’m feeling optimistic—when I’m trusting destiny to take hold and make anything happen.”

“Destiny, huh? And the purple? What does purple mean?”

I hesitated, unsure about how much I wanted to divulge. I couldn’t tell him I wove purple through my French braid when I was getting ready for dinner because of how his kiss had turned me inside out—especially when I didn’t understand it myself. Instead, I gave him the partial truth, but no less honest.

“Purple is when I’m confused or feeling conflicted over something. I also wear purple when I’m nervous.”

He eyed me questioningly.

“Do you feel nervous?”

“No,” I lied, albeit a little too quickly. In an attempt to recover, I brought the conversation back to business. “I’m conflicted about the right way to handle your PR strategy.”

He nodded his head, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m not so sure about that. I get the feeling there’s more behind the purple today. Am I right?”

“Maybe.”

---