“Honestly, the best thing for her is to play,” he said.
Tessa sighed. “She likes the beach, so yesterday I picked up some sand toys.”
“Good. Get her completely involved in something so she isn’t thinking about her surroundings, just focused on play.”
“Do you have patients today?” Tessa asked.
“Not for a few hours.”
“Great.” She snapped her fingers and pointed to him. “Let’s go make sandcastles!”
“Brilliant!” He snagged her arm as she started to walk away. “Wait a second.”
“You are not backing out of sandcastle construction, Dustin Mathers.”
He smiled at the old name they called him when they were young, giving her a flash of that wild child on the beach from her youth. He’d changed so much and she was crazy about the man he’d become.
“What a natural you are, Tess,” he whispered. “It’s beautiful on you.”
Her heart, already feeling mushy, just melted into a pool. “The glow of sleep deprivation?” she cracked.
“Love,” he said softly. “Caring. Kindness. Maternal tenderness. All beautiful.”
She opened her mouth to make a joke, to flick off the sweet words, to…protect herself. But as she looked into his eyes, she felt a few bricks fall.
She didn’t know what to say, so she just lifted up and brushed his lips with an unexpected kiss.
He deepened it for one quick second, sliding an arm around her, but parted quickly with a glance in the general direction of Olive.
“Beautiful.” He repeated the word in a low whisper, then eased back. “Come on. Let’s make sandcastles…and words.”
Oh, heavens. Could she adore this man anymore?
The beach was mostlyempty when they arrived, the sun not yet high enough to scorch, the breeze soft and forgiving. The Gulf stretched out in gentle turquoise bands, calm and pretty.
Olive walked between them, one small hand in Tessa’s—not from affection, but duty as they crossed the street—the other gripping a yellow shovel Dusty had handed her at the base of the stairs. She moved fast for such a tiny person, eyes fixed forward, expression impossible to read.
To fill the silence and always hoping to elicit a response, Tessa chattered endlessly. She talked about the art of building a sandcastle and picking the perfect place where it could sit. She talked about the birds, the surf, the reason Destin’s sand was so white.
“Quartz from the Appalachian mountains?” Dusty asked after she told them. “How do you know that?”
“My sister, the scientist,” she said, giving Olive’s hand a squeeze. “She’s the smartest person I know. You’ll love Kate, Olive.”
Olive stared straight ahead.
They hit the sand and hustled toward the waterline as Dusty encouraged her to pick the perfect placement for their castle. Eventually, she stopped and plopped down on the sand.
“Okay, here it is, then,” he said, laughing at her decision-making process.
“An excellent plot of land,” Tessa said solemnly. “High value. Ocean views. Room for expansion.”
Olive just stared at the sand as if imagining a castle rising up from it.
Dusty dropped the cooler and the bag of sand toys. Tessa spread a blanket, anchoring the corners with shoes and towels. Then she sat back, deliberately giving Olive space.
Dusty crouched and began scooping slightly wet sand into a bucket, packing it gently.
“You can dump it,” he said.
