I reach down to grab my book and that’s when I feel a shadow over me. Taking a deep breath, hoping it’s who I think it is, I lookup and am met with the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
“Hi, Maisie.” Henry stands there in a white shirt and jeans looking like he was sent down by angels.
My eyes flicker to his dimpled smile and I feel my heartbeat race.
He came.
“You came.”
“I came,” he mocks playfully.
“I didn’t think you would show up.”
“And not get to hang out with my favorite person in Ruby Lake? You’ve been deeply mistaken, Winslow.” I like the way he says my last name, even though I don’t remember telling him. Someone has done his research. His hand meets my shoulder blade and his thumb brushes up and down in a hello. “Is it okay if I sit with you on the blanket?”
I feel suffocated by his proximity in the best way. My eyes rake over every inch of his body in observation, wondering who sculpted him out of clay, creating a real life masterpiece.
“Yes, sure, of course.” I stumble over my words but somehow make out an answer. “Thank you for not ghosting me. I’m already embarrassed Wren texted you and would’ve been even more embarrassed if you…” I stop myself. “I’m rambling, I'm sorry.”
I sit down on one end and lean on my arm for support. Henry is across from me and opts to lay on his side. My eyes immediately lock onto his toned biceps supporting his weight. He’s lean but you can see the toned muscles of his arms and legs through his clothing. Especially when he reaches a hand over his head—stretching and fixing his hair—and a sliver of the carved out V of his stomach makes an appearance.
Stop staring,I tell myself.
“I enjoy listening to you talk.” His eyes glimmer as they flicker between mine. I haven’t had anyone ever look at me this way before and it’s freaking me out. It’s not bad but it’s… an unknown feeling.
“So,” I say, unsure of how to respond, “do you want to see the bucket list?”
“I think you mean the Fuck It list?” He chuckles.
“Yeah,” I play with my hands, “I made it when I was eighteen, puns were clearly my thing at the time.” I shift and turn to my bag sitting next to me and pull out my journal.
Henry sits up and moves closer to me. His scent is intoxicating, just like the first time I met him.
Looking over my shoulder, he says, “Let’s see this list eighteen year old Maisie wanted to complete.” And out of nowhere, I feel this urge to say, ‘never mind’ and run.
There’s no way I can do this.
“I can hear you overthinking, Maisie.” His shoulder nudges mine and I see him softly looking back at me. “What’s going on in that pretty head?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, I promise.” I force a smile and start opening my journal when I feel a hand on top of mine closing it. A hand much larger and rougher than my own.
His thumb brushes across my skin for the second time today and the feeling soothes me instantly.
“I promise I have good intentions being here but do you want to interrogate me so you’re less nervous?”
“How did you know I was nervous?”
He chuckles. “Just an assumption.”
His assumption was correct.
“Oh,” I say while his thumb continues to graze across mine, “I’m sorry, this is all so random and out of nowhere and you’re… you, and I’m nervous.”
“How about we get to know each other better?” He takes my journal with the list out of my hand and puts it behind himself so it’s out of sight.
He sits straighter and then turns toward me so we’re face to face. He clears his throat and introduces himself. “Hi, I’m Henry Bellwood, the new guy in town. I’m twenty-four years old, just graduated college, though a little later than most, and I’m spending the summer here with my cousin Miles to renovate the Dew Drop Inn.”
He takes his hand and puts it in mine. Intertwined, he moves them up and down together in a handshake which causes a snort to come out of me.
