They walked to the cement barricade coated in a cracked layer of tar. He helped her step onto the path cutting through the dunes.
“We’re building a sand castle.”
She laughed. Of all the things she expected to do today, playing in the sand had never crossed her mind. “For what?”
He glanced over his shoulder and winked. “For the fun of it.”
Her boots trudged through the fine, loose sand making it difficult to walk. Parker slung the duffle over his right shoulder and grasped her free hand.
As their fingers entwined a steady pulse built in her veins. The sun was high above them, countering the breeze coming off the ocean, but her insides were warmer than she’d expect for a day reaching only the high sixties.
“This looks like a good spot.” He stopped midway between the ocean and the dunes. The sand was packed tight where he dropped the supplies.
There were no signs of life for miles, aside from the few gulls she spotted in the distance. Only their footprints marred the pristine surface of the shore.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a beach so empty.”
“It’s nice,” he said, unzipping the bag. “Quiet, with just the rushing waves and an endless view.”
He removed various tools, setting them out on the beach. They weren’t typical sand toys. He had a funnel, a putty knife, a paintbrush, and various cylindrical containers.
“Why don’t you spread out the blanket and we’ll have lunch first?”
Unfolding the blanket, she flattened out the wrinkles as he proceeded to produce more odd items she’d never think to bring to a beach. He had a melon baller, an ice cream scooper, and two spades. Last, he withdrew a large paper bag.
They sat on the blanket and he paused. Staring at her face, he chuckled. “You look nervous.”
“I haven’t played in the sand in thirty years.”
“Does it bring back bad memories?”
“No, I used to love the shore. I just… Sandcastles are child’s play.”
He quirked a brow, his hand buried in the brown bag, eyes studying her. “We’ll see. Adults forget that they can play, too. And I don’t think a child could make what we’re going to build today.” He withdrew a bottle of wine. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I went with the basics—wine, cheese, fruit, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
She grinned at his choices—another surprise. “How romantic.” Although, she did love all of those things.
He smirked and uncorked the bottle with a pop. “I try.”
Once he poured wine into the plastic cups, they unwrapped their sandwiches. The grapes and cheese sat between them in absolutely basic Tupperware.
He seemed to have thought of everything for a perfect picnic, but didn’t waste time on the superficial frills. It didn’t strike her as a lack of effort. On the contrary, he raised the actual date experience to a higher standard, no cheating with distracting bells and whistles.
He kept her on her toes and took away the sense that she needed to make a certain impression. She couldn’t explain why she felt so comfortable around him, no pressure at all to be anything other than present. Their lunch date was already overshadowing the fancier dinner dates she had in the past.
“So what exactly are we building?” she asked, nibbling the corner of her sandwich.
“That depends. Every sandcastle’s different. It really comes down to how well we work together.”
She wondered if this was some sort of test to see if they would make a good team. “Do you do this a lot?”
“No. I always liked the beach and for years I couldn’t get here. Let’s call it making up for lost time. It’s no fun building a sandcastle by yourself. No one’s around to appreciate it. Today I have you.”
Today I have you…
She liked the way he put that, as if having her company meant more than castles in the sand. Her lips twitched, as she realized how often he filled her with the urge to smile.
She sliced off a piece of brie and popped it in her mouth, chewing slowly and chasing the sharp flavor down with a swallow of wine. Parker untied his shoes—simple, broken-in Chucks—and kicked them off, stuffing his socks inside.
As he rolled the cuffs of his jeans his feet fascinated her. They were manly feet, ordinary, she supposed. But there was something about seeing them on a first date. Something basic and forthcoming that told her he really was comfortable in his own skin.
She turned her attention to the expansive ocean, the tide ebbing and flowing with subdued strength. Her gaze lifted to the sky. White clouds swathed patches of blue in fleecy smears.
“It turned out to be a nice day,” she commented, as a few gulls squawked in the distance. One dove to the surface of the water and caught something in its beak. “Did you see that?”
“Probably caught a crab.” His eyes squinted against the sun as he carelessly brushed his hair back with his palm. “Look.” He pointed. “Something’s out there.”
A sleek creature leaped from the waves, diving smoothly back underwater. She gasped. “Was that a dolphin?”
“Looked like it. There will probably be more. Watch.”
Her smile widened as two more jumped, and then a third, chasing along the horizon in a swift glide of agility and grace.
“Amazing. I’ve never seen them so close to the shore.”
“There’s no one here to bother them.”
They watched the horizon silently for several minutes and when she finished her sandwich she tossed the foil into the paper bag. “So how exactly do we do this?”
“You might want to take off your boots. We’ve got a lot of digging to do.”
She unzipped her boots and placed them on the corner of the blanket with her socks. She was due for a pedicure, but that didn’t bother her like it usually would.
Parker stood and retrieved the shovel, walking several paces away. He carved a large circle where the ocean had receded.
As she stood, the cool earth soothed the soles of her feet. She grabbed a bucket and met him at the circle.
“We need to dig out a moat and make a large pile in the center. I’ll start down here and you can use the bucket to carve out the moat.”
He proceeded to dig, the scrape of the shovel cutting into the packed sand familiar and comforting. Dropping to her knees, she lodged the bucket into the ground and dumped the sand into the circle.
There was no music, only the sound of their tools working, mingled with the gentle sloshing of the ocean and birds cawing in the distance. They did this for several minutes, the beating of the waves against the shore and the splicing cut of their tools plowing through the earth playing in concert.
“Let’s pack the bottom layer with wet sand so we start with a firm foundation.”
He removed his jacket. Rolling up the sleeves of his sweater, he reached his arms into the bucket of cold water and pulled out two handfuls of muddy sand and packed it into the ground.
She sat back and watched as he used one of the smaller cups to trim the edges.
“Where did you learn how to do this?”
He shrugged. “Practice, I guess. I don’t have any siblings, so when I was young I’d nag my parents to come in the water. They only went up to their knees, so I pretty much stuck to the sand. It’s relaxing to build something out of nothing for the sheer pleasure of creativity, even if it might be gone tomorrow.”
She’d never thought to do something like that, for the simple pleasure of the experience, knowing nothing lasting would come from her efforts. Perhaps that was her problem in life.Even with Sawyer, she’d always assumed—despite the constant reminders to the contrary—that they’d eventually be a couple, a real couple who could outwardly display affection on holidays and plan a future together. She often got disappointed in things that wouldn’t last.
Using her hands, she shaped the sand, finding it cool in the shadows of the moat and enjoying the way the little granules stuck to the beds of her fingernails.
/> They worked in silence, only talking here and there, but there came a way of communicating that didn’t require words. Before she could reach for a certain tool, he was there, handing it to her, as if he anticipated her need.
As the minutes passed, the bond they shared seemed to grow, their mutual interest in this silly castle the only thing occupying their minds.
Once they had a pile of sand roughly two feet high and five feet wide, she sat back to admire their work, taking a moment to sip her wine.
Parker joined her for a moment, brushing the sand off his jeans and stealing a grape. “Now comes the fun part.”
She shaped a parapet walk while he used the funnel to set the corner towers. With the spade and paintbrush, she dredged a smooth bailey out of the center.
The sun warmed her back through her clothes as she paid great attention to the finer details. She was so engrossed in their sculpture she hardly noticed when wet sand seeped through her blouse.
Parker used his palms to thin out a rampart wall and she went in search of a shell for the perfect drawbridge. They smiled proudly as each detail came together.
Grit dusted her hairline, but she didn’t care. Brushing off her palms, she stood, her legs tired in a satisfying way. She took in their work of art and smiled.
“I think that’s the nicest sand castle I’ve ever seen.”
“Now we wait.” He rinsed his palms in a bucket of clean ocean water and dropped to the blanket, easing back in a relaxed pose.
“Wait?”
“For the tide to come in.”
“Oh.” Her smile faltered. “I don’t think I can bear to watch all our work get washed away.”
“It won’t. We’ve built a strong fortress. The water will fill the moat long before the tide gets high enough to wash her away. She’s beautiful but tough.”
She rinsed her hands and joined him on the blanket, watching the waves creep closer with each lap at the shore. She stared at the sky, marking the distance the sun had traveled. “What time is it?”
“Just after four,” he said, not looking at a watch.
She arched a brow. “How do you know that?”
“I can tell by where the sun is in comparison to the horizon.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it so she could see. The screen read 4:11.
“You cheated.” She laughed.
“I swear to God I didn’t.” He pocketed his phone and lounged back, folding his arms behind his head.
She admired the play of muscles in his exposed forearms.
“Come lie with me. We have some time before the tide reaches the moat.”
With the sun no longer directly overhead, she reached for her sweater and drew it over her shoulders, hesitating a moment before leaning back beside him. They hardly knew each other, yet she wanted nothing more than to lie beside him as if they were a timeworn couple.
She searched her mind, debating if she was somehow building him up to overshadow other parts of her life, but she honestly didn’t believe that was the case. There was just something special about him that had nothing to do with anyone else, and she liked that very much.
She eased her body onto the blanket and scooted close to his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her alongside his chest so her face rested in the crook of his arm.
Her body tingled with uncertainty. Was it normal to be so comfortable with someone on the first date? She already thought of him as a friend, but there was something more going on here.
She breathed him in, his scent mixing with the briny air. The soft material of his sweater smelled like baked-in sunshine.
She smiled. He smelled like playing outside, like childhood and happiness, and things she hadn’t thought about in years. For a moment she lost herself in that incredible fragrance, finding it calming and as addicting as it was nostalgic. She shut her eyes, fighting the urge to burrow closer.
His fingers flexed over her shoulder. “You’re fidgety,” he teased.
Her heartbeat thrummed in her chest, tight and rhythmic, making her all the more aware of the things she wanted. She relaxed, pushing those urges aside.
This was nice. She shouldn’t rush anything. His hold on her shoulder remained firm and secure, but casual.
Her belly tightened as her legs became restless. It was an effort to remain still with him so close. He turned his nose toward her and she held her breath as he pressed his face to the top of her head and drew in a long breath.
“I like the way your hair smells.”
A fleet of butterflies fluttered through her belly and her breasts suddenly felt heavy. That little comment seemed the greatest thing she’d heard in a long time.
Her body sagged into the wool blanket as her desire to feel more of him crept through her like a fever that wouldn’t wane.
She glanced up at him, noting the way his jaw relaxed and his lashes rested against his cheeks. Slowly, his gaze lifted and he peeked at her with those fascinating eyes.
“What color are your eyes?” she whispered.
“Green.”
Had she never seen green eyes that close before? They were so exotic, flecked and speckled. There was a depth to them she didn’t usually see in other eyes. Blue eyes were somewhat striped, and brown eyes appeared rather flat, but green… She loved looking into his eyes.
“They’re really pretty.”
“Thanks.” He held her stare for a moment, the fever inside of her growing hotter.
Her breath caught, as she willed him to move, inwardly begging that he kiss her. Seconds ticked by and he simply stared until finally, he eased closer, turning to his side, still looking into her eyes.
“Staring contest?” he whispered.
Her mouth twitched into a smile, as he drew even closer.
Her lips parted, her anticipation running wild, but he didn’t close the distance. “Parker…”
She wanted to ask if he felt everything she was feeling. She wanted to tell him she was scared, but in the best way.
She said nothing, just waited to see what he’d do.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered and her face heated, her heart pounding faster.
Finally! “Yes.”
His full lips pulled to one side, a dimple forming in his cheek as he smiled.
“The thing with first kisses,” he said softly. “Is that they’re the prelude to every other first. They set the stage, lead to certain expectations. So they have to be perfect.”
Her lips parted, her mind now determined to see what a first kiss from Parker might feel like. She angled her face closer and he pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes teasing.
“Let it build,” he whispered, tipping his face as if their mouths were touching, but holding the distance and keeping his eyes on hers.
She’d never wanted someone to kiss her so much in her life, but the unexpected intimacy of waiting as each slow second ticked by had her body tightening more than any kiss could. The anticipation climbed and climbed.
She could just lean forward, close the distance and steal a kiss, but she waited for him, waited for that perfect moment when a first kiss became a permanent memory, distinct enough to carry forever.
Her heart pounded as if she were at the start of a race—a blink and it sped up as if she were already at the end. She was out of breath and he hadn’t even touched her. At any moment she might burst with anticipation.
“Not yet,” he rasped, his warm breath teasing her lips. “Let it build a little more until it absolutely has to happen.”
Dear God, she’d never been more excited to be kissed in her life. It was intoxicating.
She could play this game too. “Almost,” she whispered and his eyes creased with smile lines.
“Scared?”
Her heart thundered wildly, her body starting to slightly tremble with eagerness. “A little.” Not as much as she was a minute ago.
“I won’t hurt you, Isadora.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“I know. You’re gonna have to trust me.”
She believed he wouldn’t hurt her on purpose, but what if she hurt herself?
Sawyer seemed the only part of her life that worked, yet they were so broken. What if the same pain she felt when she slept with Tyrian came back?
Parker might not want to hurt her, but some things hurt anyway, simply because they broke the mold and took her outside of her comfort zone.
“Still scared?”
Her fear ebbed and flowed, always changing, never completely receding. “I don’t know how to do this with someone else,” she softly confessed.
“It’ll be different. But that’s how you’ll know it’s me.”
She loved how he told her things even when they weren’t necessarily easy to hear. And yet, those difficult truths always seemed to work in his favor, because he seemed like such an open book. Honest.
His gaze burned into hers. “Are you ready?”
She swallowed, her eyes pleading as she stared at him. So close. “I think so.”
The first brush of his mouth had her toes curling into the blanket as her knees drew up and her hand settled onto his side. Chills chased over her arms as every slight caress of his mouth and hands carried the intensity of making love. She moaned softly as he deepened the kiss, teasing and slowly stroking his tongue past her lips.
The fever climbed like brush fire, sweeping through her with impassioned need. Her fingers tightened in his sweater, pulling him more on top of her.
His hands cupped her face, the tips of his fingers sliding into her tangled hair. It was the perfect pace, the perfect pressure, the perfect first kiss. And as far as preludes went, if he took his time with everything the way he was taking his time with this, she’d have no choice but to lose herself in each moment.
He slowly pulled back and smiled. “I wanted to do that since the minute I met you.”
She laughed quietly, her face warming. “That was a great first kiss.”
“Wait. I wanna do it again.”
His lips slid over hers and her hips reflexively lifted into his. Her other hand swept through his hair, pulling, as her mouth greedily took what he offered. The slightest caress fed her craving for more.
“Hey, easy,” he whispered, drawing back.
Queen of the Knight (Surrender Games Book 2) Page 5
