He nods, bending down to snag a small rock off the beach and tossing it gently into the water. “I hope so too.”
I crouch down beside him, my fingers sifting through the cool sand until they close around a smooth seashell. Rising, I turn toJesse, the shell nestled in my palm. Words form on my tongue, but they evaporate the moment our eyes lock.
The air between us crackles with electricity. Jesse’s brown eyes, flecked with gold in the fading sunlight, capture mine, and my breath catches in my throat. I want to comfort him, to wrap my arms around him and chase away his doubts. I want to taste those full lips again, to feel the heat of his body against mine.
His eyes flick to my mouth, and for a heartbeat, he seems about to close the distance between us. My pulse races, anticipation coiling in my gut.
Suddenly, a rogue wave surges up the beach, catching us both off guard. Water sloshes around our calves, soaking the hems of our rolled-up jeans.
“Jesus!” he yelps, jumping back.
I let out a startled laugh, the tension of the moment shattered. “Fuck me, that’s colder than I thought!”
His rich laughter joins mine, the sound warming me from the inside out. “So much for staying dry,” he chuckles, shaking water from his feet.
We share a grin and turn to head back up the beach. As we walk, our hands brush occasionally, sending little sparks up my arm.
Chapter 2
Jesse
Tension crackles between us as Martin and I walk back to the house. The sound of the waves fades behind us, replaced by the soft padding of our feet on the pavement. Neither of us speaks.
I sneak a glance at Martin. Is he regretting that almost-kiss? Or wishing it had turned into more?
Stop. We agreed that night was a one-and-done. We're keeping this professional. Friends.
But the memory of his warmth as he stood so close to me on the beach lingers. The way his eyes flickered to my lips before he darted his tongue out to moisten his own. The way his pupils blew out wide as he stared at me.
I push open the door, and we step inside. The cool air from the AC hits us, a stark contrast to the balmy evening outside.
I can’t look at him directly. My gaze darts around the room, settling on anything but his face. The moment plays on repeat in my mind. God, I wanted to kiss him.I still want to.
“So, uh…” I start, rubbing the back of my neck. “That was a nice walk.”Oh god. Awkward, much?
Martin nods, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Yeah, it was.”
Uncomfortable silence stretches between us. I need to say something, do something to break this tension. But all I can think about is how his lips felt against mine and the way muscles felt under my hands.
Nope. Stop. Not going to happen.
“I, uh… I think I’ll turn in early,” Martin says, his voice rough. “It’s been a busy weekend with the move and all.”
“Of course, yeah.” I nod, probably too enthusiastically. “Okay, well… Good night.”
He hesitates for a moment, then heads for the guest room.
Later that night, I toss and turn in my bed, unable to quiet my mind. I’m acutely conscious of Martin’s presence in the house. Every time I close my eyes, I can see the images of that night months ago in my hotel room, only now they’re mixed in with the way he looked tonight on the beach. The way the sunlight caught the silvery strands of his hair, his encouraging smile when I confessed how I still struggle after my divorce.
I’ve been replaying that night in Seattle constantly over the last few months. Up until now, I honestly believed I was misremembering how intense the connection was between us. But now that he’s here, in my home, right down the hall, it’s pretty clear I wasn’t imagining anything. I want him again with a fierceness I don't have words for.
I groan, punching my pillow in frustration.This is ridiculous. I’m too old for schoolkid crushes and what-ifs.
It’s for the best that nothing happened tonight on the beach. Really. We work together now. It would just complicate everything.
And haven’t I had enough complications to last a lifetime?
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. My divorce is still fresh, the wound still raw. I’m not ready for… whatever this is with Martin.Am I?
