by Ash Krafton
And beyond the beach—ocean.
She forgot that her apartment was only a thousand square feet. She stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind her, bathed in June sunlight, feet sinking into the sand.
Heels on a beach? Useless. She tugged off her pink pumps and dropped them, the warmth penetrating her feet as she stood in the warm sand. Stooping, she grasped a handful, feeling the fine grit drift through her fingers. Real sand.
Turning to glance behind her, she saw the doorway had become a cabana, shaded on three sides by navy blue linen drapes that fluttered against the dunes. A table was spread with fruit and cheeses and wine, graced by a pair of empty chairs. So familiar.
So real was the illusion, she expected to see her grandmother, bedecked in her floppy yellow hat and big sunglasses.
As a child, she had never played in her family’s cabana, preferring the wonders of the water’s edge. But grandma loved the beach tent and kept a watchful eye on her charge from the shady comfort of the tent.
Closer to the water line, twin chaises sat on the tide-flattened sand, facing the water. She padded quickly toward them and sat down, swinging her legs up onto the chair. Yikes, the sand was hot.
She slipped off her blazer, glad she’d only worn a sleeveless blouse today. She’d gambled on her wardrobe, the morning having looked like another one of those unpredictable days as far as weather went. She certainly didn’t plan on dressing for the beach, but at least she wasn’t wearing black.
Loosening the top button of her pale pink blouse, she pulled her hair back and twisted it into a bun, tucking the ends around to make it stay. Soaking up some sun, wishing for a pair of sunglasses—not a bad turn of events. Maybe a stiff dose of vitamin D was just the thing she needed.
So. A Delaware seashore had replaced her living room. She was pretty sure the landlord hadn’t arranged the renovation.
Shading her eyes, she scanned the horizon before spying a lone figure walking along the shoreline. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, the sunlight glinting off dark curls.
Her breath caught when she caught sight of him, and she watched his leisurely pace along the water’s edge. He truly belonged upon the sand, didn’t he?
Bare from the waist up but for a thin sky-blue scarf that looped around his neck, he wore full white pants that caught the wind. His gait was slow and deliberate, and he often turned his head to look out at the water.
Something about the way he carried himself, a rounding of the shoulders, his hand stuffed into his pockets, that told her he wasn’t his usual, over-confident self.
He didn’t have his fists balled up, either, nor did he leave a trail of embering footsteps behind him. Encouraging sign. She watched him make his way closer, the scarf twisting in the sea breeze, trousers fluttering against his thighs.
Seeing him now made her realize how bereft she’d felt in his absence. She’d been technically no more alone than any other time in her life but their falling out had left a vacuum between them, and all the color and life had been sucked out. His presence here brought everything back, and the mere sight of him made her feel like she could breathe again.
Once he came within earshot, she waved. “Hey, you.”
His pace slowed to a stop a few yards away and gazed silently at her, his pale green eyes bright against the bronzed hue of his skin.
“Will you sit with me?” She smiled, noting how easy it was to do. Then it hit her.
Her heart thumped. A zygomatic smile. The first of her life. A monument—a milestone! A moment worth preserving in amber so that it would never fade. She blinked, the enormity of the realization flattening her lungs. Her first genuine smile…
And he had turned his face away from it. The disappointment weighed in her chest, causing her shoulders to crumple.
He took a few more steps toward her, eyes still down. “Do you want me to?”
She hadn’t really expected things to go easy, not after their last words. The problem was this constant flicker of emotional indecision—each new sensation, each word, each discovery, each reaction caused a new series of feelings and reactions. What used to be a straight shot from A to B was now a meandering path with countless lefts and rights. That was the hardest part of exploring these emotional roads.
She licked her lips, if only to pry them apart. “There’s two chairs. I can’t sit in both of them.”
“But you banished me.”
He appeared so vulnerable, so human. The uncertainty in his voice eclipsed any doubt that she felt. She shook her head, knowing she’d caused him a great despair. “Oh, Burnsie.”
“Let me explain myself. Your dream was—” He sought her eyes for a brief moment before dipping his chin again. “Wonderful. I set the stage, of course, but you…oh, you.”
A thunderous wave punctuated his words, the crashing of the tide against the beach like a rogue heartbeat. Far off, the gulls laughed and chattered, their voices carrying on the warm, incessant wind. He turned to scan the water, shaking his head, as if scolding himself. “I lost my temper. In the morning, all I remembered was the wish and the way you stole it from me. If only I remembered the taste of your lips instead of your scheming manipulation.”
“I knew it.” She slapped her palms against her legs and pointed at him. “You knock that off, right now.”
“See?” He wrung his hands together, flexing them and steepling his fingers. “This is why I ruin everything. I always let my temper get the best of me.”
He sank to the foot of the empty chaise, pressing his palm to his chest. “I have a heart, Tamarinda. I have a soul. I have a core, and you have gotten into it. I feel you within me. Your skin, your voice, your taste—you are imprinted within me. I want to do the right thing for you, and I ruin it all with my temper.”
“I guess…” She leaned forward, drawing up her knees. “It’s a genie thing.”
“Yes. A genie thing.” He nodded and smoothed his moustache with his thumb and forefinger. “But, enough. I am trying to apologize. That is why I’ve turned your chambers into a beloved memory from your childhood.”
“I noticed.” She fanned herself with her hand, feeling tremendously overdressed. “Can we go into the shade? I’m still wearing winter skin.”
“Of course.” He stood, his eyes twinkling like gems. “I have arranged lunch.”
He extended his hand and helped her up, tucking her hand into the bend of his arm as he led her to the cooler confines of the tent. Soft drums and a thin pipe melody played, more rhythm than music. It rose and fell with the crashing of the waves from the ocean beyond, a soothing pulse.
He pulled out her chair and she sat, accepting the glass of white wine he’d poured. Sipping at the chilled sweetness, she gazed out over the water, watching the sunlight glitter upon the rolling surface. Laughing gulls chased each other along the shore line, their calls a familiar sound.
“This is a very elaborate apology, Burnsie.”
“I don’t apologize very often. I like to get it right the first time so I don’t have to repeat it. Massage?”
A young woman appeared behind her chair, kneading her shoulders. Fingers worked deep into her muscles before she could even refuse. After a few moments of the woman’s deft handiwork, Tam had no desire to stop her. She let the masseuse chip away at the tension that had built up over the course of the day.
She sipped the wine, eyes half-closed, submerged deep within the sights and scents and sounds of an amazing fantasy. “Um, Burns? Is this permanent?”
“Of course not.” He sat next to her, peeling a peach with a small silver blade. “It’s borrowed.”
“Borrowed?” She laughed. “How do you borrow a beach?”
“It’s not easy. You’ll note the strain.” He leaned closer and pointed to the crease in between his eyebrows. “This takes much exertion.”
“Mmm hmm.” She reached for a grape and popped it into her mouth. Breaking the skin with her teeth, she was rewarded with a lush mouthful of sweetness. “I d
o appreciate it.”
“So. You see how hard I am willing to work. To satisfy you.” His fingers crept toward hers, hesitantly, and just briefly brushed against her hand. The touch, so vulnerable, unsure, spoke of a longing he was trying so hard to restrain. “Perchance, to dream with you again.”
The heat of a blush warmed her cheeks. Still, so personal—yet here, with him sitting so close…it didn’t seem so wrong to hear him say it.
“Just—take me back,” he said, his voice low and strained. His pale eyes searched hers, pleading. “Do not end our contract. Let me nine o’clock with you forever.”
She shook her head emphatically. “No.”
“How can you say no?” He clapped twice and the masseuse disappeared. “After all this?”
“No, Burns.” She pressed her lips together. Not a frown, just a non-negotiating hard line. “I will not reinstate our client relationship. It’s done.”
He leapt up from his chair and whirl-winded, a Burns-sized sand demon, the air flying in a rush of sound, his voice audible in the roar. The force of his fury drove deep grooves into the smooth, packed sand.
This time, she was prepared for his outburst. A tantrum, nothing more. She helped herself to more grapes and allowed him to play himself out.
At length he regained human form and stopped spinning. He panted for breath, hands on his hips. “And I even brought these rotten sea rats with me. I hate gulls, cackling little pains in the ass. It was all for you, all of it. And you say no?”
She dipped her head and crossed her arms. “Yes, Burns. I say no.”
“But why?”
“Because.” She allowed a tiny smile to surface, feeling her eyes crinkle with it. A peculiar sense of vulnerability crept up on her. Should she say it? She wanted to, but should she? A silent tug-of-war of feelings, making her feel shy and bold at the same time. It was a teen-aged sort of feeling, and it made her want to clap her hands with the thrilling freshness of it. A deep breath and she took the plunge. “I want you.”
He opened his mouth to protest but closed it again with a snap. Squinting, he cocked his head at her. “Wait. That makes no sense.”
“Yes, it does. I released you from care, Burns. In fact, I’ve been debating whether or not you ever really were in my care. Ethics prohibit me from having any relationship with a client over the extent of my being a counsellor.” She toyed with her wine glass, running her finger across the condensation, watching the droplets of water swell and slip down the side. “I’m not a friend, I’m not a neighbor. I’m definitely not a lover. I cannot pursue a personal relationship with a client. Ever.”
She sighed. Her troubled frown was genuine. “But I want to be with you. It’s the worst dilemma I’ve ever been in.”
“So… you cut me loose so that you could pursue me.” The sly smile was back, and tiny flames twinkled in his eyes. “Will it be a rough pursuit? I can unleash the tiger. It would be scintillating.”
“Later, okay?” She laughed. “Just, please. Stop being angry. You misunderstood me, and I didn’t work hard enough to explain.”
He waved a wide arc to indicate the beach, the ocean, the sunlight and the sand. “So you let me go through all this—”
She stood next to him, looking out at the sand and the sunlight. “And it was wonderful. I didn’t want to waste it.”
“I hate apologizing.” He crossed his arms and glared down her.
“But it was wonderful.” She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” He lost his sullen stance and relaxed his arms. His voice took a husky tone as he gazed down into her eyes. “But. Can I send it back now?”
“Keep the food?” She grabbed a peach off the table.
“As you command.” He dropped a wink that sent flutters through her.
He clapped his hands twice, and a great wind rushed in. The water shrank back toward the horizon, before familiar walls glided in to surround them. Burns guided her out of the cabana, his hand along the curve of her back. The sand swirled away from beneath their feet, revealing hardwood floors, before disappearing with the dwindling wind.
In moments, her apartment was back and no evidence of the beach remained, except for a plate of bread and cheese, a bowl of fruit, and the wine glasses on the coffee table. The rosy heat of warm sunshine lingered like a glow in her skin, slowly fading, and her eyes slowly acclimated to the dimmer lighting of her living room.
A gull cried out, making them both jump. It perched on the back of the couch, head cocked, eyeing the bread.
“Get out, you,” Burns said, adding a growl and snapping his fingers. The bird laughed and leapt into the air in a flash of wings before it vanished, leaving a single feather to flutter to the floor.
Chapter 19
It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden disappearance of sunlight. She fanned herself and brushed her bare feet, wondering where her shoes had gone. Ah. There, by the door. Everything was just as it should be.
Almost.
“I have something for you.” She ducked into the kitchen, grabbing a small bundle from the counter. “It’s wrapped inside this handkerchief.”
Their fingers touched when she handed it to him. Chills tumbled up her arms.
His brows bunched lower and he eyed her, his fingers closing around the cloth reflexively. “I—”
“Open it.”
He plucked each corner of the handkerchief, lifting each flap with exaggerated care. Inside lay the ugly old ring, too dull to even catch the lamp light.
His breath snagged in his throat, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “The ring. But why?”
“I want you to have it.” A warmth spread through her chest, a tingle of a glow. Pleasant and comforting, a sense of knowing she’d done the right thing. “It seemed to mean something to you.”
His eyes widened. “Tamarinda, this ring is too precious—”
“Well, take it.” She closed her fingers around his. “Really, you said yourself. I don’t have enough security. And I really can’t have a dragon in here. I signed a no-pets lease. Take it back to your place and keep it. It’s all yours.”
“Just like that?” His whispered words held infinite doubt.
“Sure.” She shrugged and released his hand. “Why not? You’ll feel better. So will I.”
He stared at her for a full minute, searching her face, his brows drawn.
Had she broken some kind of custom or committed some taboo act?
He slipped the ring into his breast pocket and patted it before performing a salute, a wave of his hand in front of his mouth, sweeping his hand down with a flourish that ended in a bow. “I humbly thank you.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like one of the prettier items? You said you liked treasure—that old thing looked like it fell out of a sink trap. Would you like something else?”
“You don’t understand. I have none of my own, Tamarinda. I had never been allowed. This ring is the closest I’ve ever come to having a treasure of my own.” He gently lifted her chin so she could look nowhere but into his green eyes. “I will cherish it every day of my life.”
“Okay.” She patted his hand and slipped from his grasp. “Glad it makes you happy. You’re easier to be with when you’re happy.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I do.” She tilted her head. “I’m sorry about making you think I banished you. I did that because I had to. I am a woman of principles, no matter how distasteful you find that to be. I can’t be your therapist because it would be unethical.”
“Unethical.” He laughed, a disdainful sound. “What could possibly be unethical about my coming to visit you?”
“You don’t visit, Burns. You sought counselling, in my office, where I work as a therapist. You didn’t pick me up in a bar. You came to me and said I need a counsellor. And I am telling you, I’m sorry. We cannot continue.”
“But why?”
“Because.” She ducked her he
ad, scratching at the bridge of her nose with a slender finger. “I think I love you, you idiot.”
There. It was out.
She drew a deep breath, expecting any one of a dozen responses—
Except the one she got.
He narrowed his eyes and thinned his lips, suspicion written into every line of his expression. “What do you mean, think?”
“I—I don’t know. I don’t feel things the way people do, Burns. I’m always on the outside looking in. You want to know why I do this for a living? I’m looking for a clue. I’m looking for the thing that makes me different. What don’t I know? What haven’t I done right? What didn’t I learn?” She hugged her ribs and looked away. “I don’t feel. I evaluate people and conditions and events and I make logical decisions on how to react.”
If anything, her proclamation seemed to leave him disappointed. This was difficult, this communication—she was a conglomeration of cold fact and data, while he was a tempest of heat and emotion. How was she to explain the unexplainable to someone who existed upon the mere force of his feelings?
He regarded her quietly for a few moments. “So what makes you…think…you love me?”
“You made me react,” she said, knowing that it was the absolute truth. That is what had set him apart from every being on the planet. “The day you came to the office. You did something I’d never seen—”
“Ah, the water bottle.” He grinned.
“And you made me react. You startled me.” She chuffed out a short laugh. “I didn’t know what it meant, at first. I needed time to process it because that had never happened before. Never. Not once. Then you walk into the room and in the space of fifteen minutes you startle me. I didn’t even know what it meant. A friend had to tell me.”
A smile threatened to ruin the serious line of his mouth, but he leveled his expression. His hands flexed at his sides, as if the energy had to be channeled elsewhere. “And did this friend tell you that you loved me?”
“Kind of.” She smiled then, again noting the ease with which the corners of her mouth tugged. He was the first creature to draw out spontaneous smiles from an otherwise mechanical doll. “I must. This can’t be any other feeling.”
