The moment was significant, a quiet act of respect for the ocean. I glanced up at Austin and found him smiling at me, an unguarded smile that made crinkles appear at the corners of his gray eyes. And seeing him in his element, with the golden light of the setting sun on his face, something shifted inside me. Not just a flutter of attraction anymore.
My chest filled with something that felt dangerously, wonderfully, like falling.
The sun was a fiery orange ball now, kissing the horizon and painting the underside of the few stray clouds in brilliant streaks of pink and gold. The water around us transformed into a sheet of shimmering, liquid copper. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
After thoroughly washing our hands, I leaned back against the cushioned seat. A contented sigh escaped my lips. The tension of the last few weeks—the constant worry about the house, the contractors, the budget—all melted away out here, dwarfed by the sheer, magnificent scale of sky and sea.
Austin disappeared for a moment into the cabin before emerging with a thick, navy-blue blanket. Without a word, he draped it over both our shoulders as we sat side by side on the bench. We sat in a companionable silence for a long time, just watching the sky put on its nightly spectacle.
But my mind drifted back to the scene at Tidal Hops. The easy camaraderie between the brothers, then the jagged shift in the atmosphere after Austin had been pulled into the back room. Bolstered by the easy intimacy of the sunset, by the simple, solid weight of his arm now resting over my shoulders, I ventured into more dangerous waters.
“So,” I said softly, my gaze still on the horizon, “I know we mentioned this, but was everything really okay at the brewpub? With Eli and Braden?”
Austin was quiet for so long I thought he was going to ignore the question. He tensed beside me, the easy relaxation of a moment ago evaporating. I almost wanted to take the question back, to fill the silence with some trivial comment about the beauty of the sunset.
“It’s nothing,” he said finally. “They like to give me a hard time.”
It was a dismissal, a clear don’t-pry signal, but this time I didn’t let it go.
“It seemed a little more than that,” I said gently, still not looking at him. “You were upset.”
He let out a slow, heavy breath, a sound of pure, weary resignation. “They were thrown. I don’t bring women around the family. Well, ever.”
My heart gave a little squeeze at the admission. “Ever?”
He paused again, his gaze fixed on the last sliver of sun disappearing below the horizon, turning the water to a deep purple.
“I haven’t been seriously involved with anyone in over a decade. The last time, a long time ago…” He paused, and I could feel the struggle in him, the immense effort it took to even speak these vague words. “The relationship ended badly. Unexpectedly. It—it shook me.”
A vast, cold ocean of pain lay beneath that one, simple phrase.
It shook me.
Something had fundamentally changed a part of him, a part he had spent thirteen years carefully walling off. This was the reason for his solitude, his grumpy armor, his fierce, almost pathological, need for control.
With absolute certainty, I knew this was not the time to ask for more. He had just handed me this broken piece of his past in a profound act of trust, a gift more precious than any flower. My role now was not to question or pry, but simply to hold his trust, to show him it was safe with me.
I nodded, leaning my head gently against his shoulder. “Thank you for telling me that, Austin.”
He didn’t reply, but the tension in his shoulder eased. He shifted slightly, his arm tightening around me, pulling me into his warmth, his scent of salt and sea and safety.
We sat as the first stars began to prick the velvety darkness, the silence between us no longer awkward or charged, but full of a fragile and deeply felt understanding. He hadn’t told me everything. He hadn’t even told me much. But he had opened the door a little.
And for a man like Austin Coleridge, that was everything.
Eventually, he started the engines, the low rumble a comforting sound in the deepening twilight. He guidedLine Dancerback toward Sunset Siesta. I stood near him, the soft blanket still draped over my shoulders, the warmth of his body a solid presence next to mine.
When we reached the dock, I moved with newfound confidence, helping him secure the lines as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I wasn’t just a guest on his boat anymore. I felt like a partner, a first mate, however temporary.
Once the boat was secured, he turned to me in the soft glow of the dock lights and pulled me close. “I never mix drinking and boating. But now that we’re safely tied up… how about a glass of wine?”
A slow smile spread across my lips. The earlier vulnerabilitywas gone, replaced by the thrilling, electric hum of building desire.
“Oh?” I took a step closer, my hand skating across the stubble of his cheek. “Trying to earn more brownie points?”
He covered my hand with his own, his thumb stroking my skin and sending a bolt of searing heat through me. A lazy, devastatingly sexy smile touched his lips, the one that made my brain short-circuit.
“Do I need them?” His voice was a low, husky purr.
