throaty rumble, and he cleared his throat before speaking again. “I’m trying something new.”
“A beard?”
“Piracy.”
Her lips parted on a delighted smile and without any warning she bridged the infinitesimal gap between his mouth and hers and kissed him. Her mouth was soft and tart from the apple but still the sweetest damned thing he had ever tasted.
He made an anguished sound that he didn’t recognize as his voice, and his hand went up to cup her neck just below her ear. He waited, wanting to see what she would do next, but she kept the kiss light and innocent. He didn’t want innocent, he wanted to be the fucking pirate he had jokingly referred to earlier. He wanted to plunder, pillage, and pursue. He wanted to ravage her mouth with his and leave no doubt as to his intentions.
But he reined it in, sensing that she needed a lighter hand. He didn’t want to ruin the possibility of more with her.
She sighed softly, the sound laden with a sadness that confused him. Alarmed him. Why would she be sad? Yes, this was less than he wanted, but it was also so much more than he’d expected. Didn’t it mean the same to her? Was that why she sounded so damned desolate.
She drew back and shifted away from him. The movement was small but deliberate. Where before there hadn’t been space to squeeze an envelope between them; now the air circulating in the chasm she had placed between their bodies felt ice cold.
Miles couldn’t take his eyes off her. With her arms caging her bent knees, and her hands clasped tightly together, she appeared to have closed herself off both physically and emotionally. And it was frustrating to witness.
She stared at the ocean. Not acknowledging him, or what had just happened between them.
Stormy whined and Miles looked at the puppy who was sitting with her back to the water and watching them. More specifically—ravenously eyeing the apple core that Miles had dropped in the sand when Charity had kissed him. He picked up the sandy core and dropped it into a poop bag, before looking at the dog again.
“Come,” he called, snapping his fingers to punctuate the command, and Charity made a soft snorting sound. His eyes jerked back to her face and—even though she was still gazing at the ocean—that smile was back. Relieved that she still seemed to be in good spirits, he waited for Stormy to obey him, before refocusing his attention on Charity.
“What’s funny?” he asked, lifting Stormy into his lap and fluffing her ears affectionately.
“I’ll tell you some other time,” she said.
“When?”
“When I think the time is right.”
Well, what the fuck did that mean?
“Do you enjoy being an enigma?” He tried to sound teasing, but instead the note fell flat, and he sounded curt and a little resentful instead. That was all it took to chase the smile from her lips.
She looked at him, her eyes somber. “No. And I don’t want to be considered a challenge either. A fun trophy to hunt.”
“Is that what you think is happening here?”
“I’m not sure what’s happening here, I’m merely telling you what I hope it’s not.”
“It’s not that.”
“We’ll see.” She pushed to her feet and stepped away from him to dust sand from the seat of her jeans. “I thought you were going to work on that naughty dog’s recall. And if what happened earlier is any indication, she definitely needs it.”
He supposed that meant the subject was closed.
For now.
Stormy was being a brat. Charity tried not to laugh at Miles’s comical frustration as he tried his best to teach the puppy to “sit” and “stay”. She sat like a champ, but “stay” was a problem. She seemed to know exactly what Miles wanted and stayed put about 50 percent of the time. But the instant anything more interesting came along, she took off in pursuit.
Thus far; she had been diverted by a tangle of rotting seaweed, chased a flock of seagulls, and followed a crab into the waves only to run away in shock when the water had “chased” her. The latter, of course, had resulted in a fun—for her—game of keep away with the waves.
Miles appeared both exasperated and entertained by her. More often than not, he had an amused grin on his face while he was issuing half-hearted commands or reprimands.
Charity couldn’t take her eyes off him. But whenever he glanced over at her, she shifted her attention to the puppy, not wanting to be