Page 45 of On the Run
He laughed.
“And you saved me from drowning when our boat sank.” I threw an arm out in the direction of the water.
“It didn’t come close to sinking. Those rafts are nearly unsinkable. And donotsay that’s what they said about theTitanic,” he added.
“Pretty sureyoujust said it,” I singsonged.
“You were in no danger of drowning, Toby, I promise. I told you I wouldn’t have let that happen.” His voice was low and serious, solemn even, and it made my palms prickle. I couldn’t make myself look up at him.
“Which is exactly my point,” I continued breezily. “You know how to calm homicidal cats and patch boats and hunt for plovers, sweetness. What advice could you need from m—er, from Hagatha?”
Beale paused to type something in his phone, and I realized belatedly that there were quite a few birds hopping along the shore and I hadn’t noticed.Oops. Add “terrible plover hunter” to the list of reasons why Florida and I would not suit.
“I maybe wanted advice on finding a soul mate,” Beale admitted.
I felt my eyes go round. “What?”
“But then I realized the whole point of a soul mate is that you don’t have to find them,” Beale rushed on. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “They find you. The Universe sends them to you. Obviously. So I changed my mind and didn’t send the letter. Anyway, back to the plovers!” He pointed to a sign someone had staked into the ground that read Protected Area. “I spotted a nest over that way last time I was here. We need to be really quiet and stealthy while approaching. We don’t want to startle the adults.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I could not care less about the mating habits of birds when I was busy thinking about the mating habits—or lack thereof—of the man beside me. “So you’re looking for your dream guy—”
“I’m not looking. I’mwaiting. Big difference. Very big. Just forget it, okay?” He made a slashing gesture with his hand. “We’re here for plovers. Look closely, just by that tall tuft of grass.” He jabbed the binoculars at me and pointed.
“Yes, fine.” I sniffed, holding them obediently.
I lifted the binoculars and aimed them where he pointed, and… “Oh! Oh, hey!” I turned to Beale with a shocked smile. “There’s a bird there.” I looked again. “Definitely a plover looking for action.” I drew a line across my forehead where the plover’s markings were. “And I think there’s a couple eggs under her. Or him. How can you tell?”
“It’s usually females during the day.” Beale’s voice was a low rumble by my ear that made my stomach flip. “Can you see how many eggs?”
I looked closer. “Two… no, three. Definitely three. Ha! Mark that down, Goodman. Who’s a fucking eggs-pert plover hunter?” I grinned at him again, triumphantly this time.
“It’s you, Toby,” he deadpanned.
“Damn straight.” I handed him back his binoculars and wiggled my hips. “I’m not just a pretty face.”
“No, you’re not,” he said with a hungry look in his eyes that made me want to kiss him again.
I looked away and rubbed my palms against my hips.
This was dangerous. Really, really dangerous. If any other guy on the planet had given me that look, I’d already have him backed against the nearest flat surface and gotten on my knees, but Beale was kind of a special case. A virgin-shaped special case.
And yet…
“Why is it that you have to wait to have sex until you meet your soul mate?” I held up both hands innocently when he opened his mouth to protest. “Genuine, honest question.”
“Because sex is a waste of time otherwise.”
“Mmmm. Maybe in a cosmic sense? But it’s a reallyfunand useful waste of time. Like, in the hierarchy of time-wasters, it’s more like counting plovers than crushing candy on your phone.”
He rolled his eyes. “Toby—”
“No, no, hear me out, okay? What if the Universe wants to see that you’re putting in an effort to find your soul mate? If you were destined to win the lottery, Beale, it would only happen if you played. You can’t be destined to have a sandwich for dinner if you don’t buy bread. There has to be some way that humans make shit happen. You said that all living and nonliving things have energy, right? So where’s your energy going?”
“You sound like Rafe.”
I winced. “Great. Well, in this case maybe he’s right. I mean, I’m looking out for your future soul mate here, Beale. Don’t you think it would be good if you learned a little bit about having sex? What you like and don’t like, whathemight like and not like?”
“It’s not something you have to learn!”
