“Just trying to keep my mind off you. It’s as simple as that.”
“It might have been simpler just to tell me how you felt.”
“Yeah, in hindsight, that might have been better,” Grady said. “What about you? When did it change from friendship to wanting something more?”
“The first time you defended Robbie in public. All four of us were at the ice cream shop. Do you remember that rude girl who worked there? She made fun of how he talked—imitating him to her coworkers. Loud enough that everyone could hear her.”
“Making him sound like a robot. Yeah, I remember that little brat.”
“Robbie pretended like he hadn’t heard, but I could see it in his eyes. Crushed. And we’d been having such a fun day. But you were having none of it. You went right up to the counter and saidloudly that you felt sorry for whoever had raised her, given her terrible manners. Then you asked for the manager.”
I nodded, remembering how the look in Robbie’s eyes had made my stomach clench in anger.
“She came out, and you told her what you’d witnessed. By then, everyone was watching and listening. The girl did at least act ashamed. I never saw her there again, so I think she got fired.”
“As she should’ve been,” I said.
“Regardless, I was absolutely astounded. His own father had never defended him, you know. He’d ridiculed him. Made him feel like a freak. Not once did he come to Robbie’s defense. I thought, now this is a man a woman could build a life with. Someone who would always be there. Loyal. Supportive. It touched my heart deeply. After that, everything shifted, even though I didn’t think you could ever feel the same way.”
“We’ve wasted a lot of time.”
I shook my head. “No, we can’t think of it that way. Like Robbie said, friendship is a wonderful foundation to a relationship.”
“Are you ready for me to take you to bed?” Grady asked, leaning closer to brush a crumb from my chin. “Or should we stay on the couch?”
“Here? In the light of the flattering moon? Might be best, given that I’ve had two children.”
He laughed. “I’ve seen you on many a sunny afternoon on the beach. There’s no need for soft lighting. I know what you look like. Trust me. I’ve thought about what it would be like to have you in my bed only about a thousand times.”
“Only a thousand?” I asked, teasing.
He reached for me, pulling me against his chest. “Robbie would be able to calculate that better than I. But you’re right. It was many more than a thousand. I’ve thought of holding you inmy arms multiple times a day for twelve hundred and thirteen days.” His hand came up to my jaw, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. “And now I’d like to do more than thinking.”
“As would I.”
He surprised me by hauling me onto his lap, then stood up as if I weighed nothing and headed toward the bedroom.
“Bedroom it is, huh?” I asked.
He dropped me onto the bed, grinning. “Less talking. More kissing.”
“I had no idea you were so bossy.”
If I had planned on saying anything else it would have been in vain because my mouth was covered with his, and I could think of nothing but Grady Nash.
I woketo the sound of the ocean. For a disoriented moment, I didn’t know where I was. The light was wrong—coming from the wrong direction, too bright, too close. The sheets were soft and unfamiliar. And there was a warmth beside me.
Grady.
I turned my head. He was asleep on his stomach, one arm thrown across the pillow, his face turned toward me. This was the face I’d seen nearly every day for three years. I knew the lines around his eyes and the way his hair fell when it wasn’t pushed back and the small scar on his jaw from a surfboard fin. I’d seen this face across my kitchen table, on my couch, at The Pelican, on the beach with my kids. I’d looked at this face a thousand times and told myself I was only looking at a friend.
But now, in the early morning light with the sheets tangled around us, I could stop pretending. I could just look.
He was beautiful. And he was mine.
I slipped out of bed carefully, pulling on one of his sweatshirts, and padded to the kitchen. It was high-tide, with waves rolling in long and even not far from the cottage. A pelican skimmed the surface, so low its wingtips almost touched the water.
I scooped ground coffee into his machine and added water, then pressed the brew button. While I waited, I looked around the cottage with new eyes. The surfboard by the door, salt-crusted and sun-faded. A framed photograph of a woman with dark hair and kind eyes, standing in a garden. His mother. Whenever I’d asked about her, he’d always changed the subject. But now, I hoped he would share more about his family. Maybe I’d get to meet his sister.
