He fell into step beside me, and we moved down the beach until the crash of the waves would cover our voices.
“When’s your flight back?” I asked.
“Tomorrow.”
I stopped walking. “Cancel it.”
He frowned. “What?”
"I have a house," I said. "On the beach. Ten minutes from here."
Red kept his eyes on the water. "Okay."
"I rented it for the week. It has a kitchen. A pool." I was talking too much. I never talked too much. "The point is you could stay. If you wanted."
Red stared out at the water, his profile sharp against the fading light.
"Are you asking me to spend the week with you?"
Yes. No. I'd planned to do this shoot, fuck him somewhere semiprivate, and go back to my life. I hadn't planned to stand here on a beach at sunset, offering him four days of something I couldn't name. Four days of waking up next to him. Four days of meals and conversation and all the ordinary moments I'd spent years avoiding.
"I'm asking if you want to," I said. "That's all."
He was quiet for a long moment. I knew the calculations he was running. Who might notice. What they might assume. How many lies he'd have to tell.
"If anyone asks," he said finally, "I'm staying with a friend. Someone from back home."
"Fine."
"And I drive myself. Separate cars. I don't leave with you."
"Fine."
He turned to look at me, and his expression had lost some of its caution. "Yeah. Okay. I want to."
"I'll send you the address," I said. "Give me an hour to get there first."
"An hour." He was smiling now. "What are you going to do for an hour?"
"Shower. Change. Pretend I didn't just invite you to stay with me for four days like some kind of—" I stopped.
"Some kind of what?"
I didn't have an answer. Boyfriend was wrong. Lover was insufficient. Whatever we were didn't have a word yet, and I wasn't sure I wanted one. Words made things real. Words made things something you could lose.
"Just be there," I said, and walked away before I could say anything else.
I rolled off Red and collapsed onto my back, panting.
We hadn't made it to the bedroom. We'd made it toabedroom, the first door we'd found after stumbling through the entryway, but not the one I'd planned. The master was at the end of the hall with the ocean view. This was a guest room with white walls and a king bed and sheets we'd already destroyed.
Four days. I had four days before I needed to be back on ice. Natalia had cleared my schedule, rearranged two sponsor calls, and pushed a fitting to next week. She hadn't asked why. She never asked why.
Red was breathing hard beside me, his chest rising and falling, sweat cooling on his skin. The house was quiet around us. No traffic noise, no neighbors close enough to hear. I'd checked the property lines before I booked it, noted the fence height and the sight lines from the road. Three hundred yards to the nearest house. Far enough.
My phone buzzed from somewhere on the floor.
I ignored it. Red's hand found mine on the mattress, his palm warm against my knuckles, and I let myself have that for ten seconds before the phone buzzed again.
