By the time we feel the first inkling of cold water at our feet, I flash my light at Bran and sign that we need to leave. He nods, and hops down from the rock, joining us as we make our way back out.
Damien’s grinning when I look back up at him. “That place is amazing,” he says. “But seriously, what was the fish smell?”
I point down the beach and say, “The sea lions love to come on land about half a mile down that way. Sometimes they’ll venture up this far and go into the caves. They’re really fun to watch, but man do they stink. You also don’t want to get too close, because they can get pretty aggressive.”
“I’ll markpet a sea lionoff my Oregon to-do list,” he says.
“Yeah, definitely mark that one off,” I say.
We start heading back as the cave slowly fills, and I realize I’m still grabbing onto his forearm. “Sorry,” I quickly say, letting him go.
He looks down at where I’d been touching him. I’m not expecting him to say anything, so I’m surprised when he looks at me and says, “Please don’t ever apologize for touching me. It makes me feel like I was the only one who enjoyed it.”
I’m too stunned by his words to say anything, and without waiting for me to find my voice, he starts walking again, fallingin step beside Bran. I jog to catch up, and keeping my eyes straight ahead, I say, “You weren’t the only one who enjoyed it.”
When I step closer so my arm brushes his, I feel him look down at me, but I resist the urge to look up and let him see how much I’m enjoying this. I have zero experience with guys, and I’m afraid of being too eager too soon. He knocks all that on its ass, though, when he scoots in even more and hooks a finger under my chin, lifting my face to his. It’s a brief touch, over far quicker than I want it to be, but he holds me long enough for our eyes to meet. Whatever he sees makes him smile before he lets me go and stands back up to his full height. We’re still walking, and when I chance a quick look at my cousin, he either didn’t see anything or is pretending he didn’t.
We get back to the house, and after brushing the sand off, Damien helps me stand. Instead of walking inside with me, he says, “If I don’t see you before tonight, be careful, Sitka. I know you’re good and you know what you’re doing, but,” he pauses for a second and rubs a hand through his dark hair, “just be careful.”
“I will be,” I tell him. “I always am. Maybe I’ll see you afterwards?”
“I’d like that. I’m not so sure your brothers will, though.”
“Your cousin is married to my cousin. There’s nothing wrong with us hanging out together,” I say.
The soft huff of a laugh and the amused look in his eyes has me adding, “They don’t need to know everything I do. We’re allowed to talk, aren’t we?”
“We are allowed to talk, yes,” he says, but I can tell it’s only a cautious sort of agreement to what I’ve said.
“We are,” I say with more conviction, and to prove it, I ask, “Can I see your phone?”
He raises a curious brow at me but pulls his phone from his back pocket, unlocks it, and then hands it over. I can’t help but grin when I see his screensaver is a photo of his brother’s kids.I don’t tell him how relieved I am that it’s not some photo of a gorgeous model or a girl he knows from back home.
Not wanting him to think I’m snooping, I keep the screen so he can see it and then put myself in his contacts.
I lift my eyes when he says, “Add a photo of yourself.”
“You want me to take a picture of myself right now?” I ask, gesturing towards my hair, knowing it’s still blowing around like I’m a witch who’s just stepped away from her coven.
He takes his phone and holds it up at face level. I quickly grab my hair and try to keep it in place. “Wait, not yet,” I say.
I hear the amusement dripping from his words when he says, “I’ve already taken several.”
“What?”
“And another,” he says.
Knowing if I yell, he’ll just take a picture of it, I tilt my head and give him a big smile instead.
“Perfect,” he murmurs, and it’s several more seconds before he actually drops his hands. Before he puts his phone away, he calls me and then hangs up. “Now you have mine too.”
“But I don’t have a photo,” I say while trying to pull my phone from my pocket.
“You’ve got to be faster than that,besyonok.”
He leaves me standing on the veranda, too stunned to move, and with what I’m sure is a dopey look on my face. I’ve had a few nicknames over the years from my family, but usually it’s something my dad’s come up with or it’s my cousins calling me a bookworm.
Damien calling me little demon is the best one I’ve ever been given.
