Out of My League - Sarah Sutton Page 0,38
on them. Lifting my head, I looked him in the eye. “Take my picture.”
Walsh blinked once, and when he looked up and met my gaze, I realized he’d been looking at my mouth. “What?”
“Take my picture. I give you permission to post this one.”
Walsh hurried to get his cell from his pocket, fumbling to raise it. “Say, ‘Walsh is the best.’”
My smile faltered just a little bit. “No.”
“‘Sophie is the best’?”
“It’s an A, Walsh. Is it really that hard to replace one vowel?”
Walsh gave me a look that was a cross between playful and exasperated. “Fine, just smile.”
I forced my features into a somewhat relaxed expression, trying to look as happy and cheerful as I could without looking like I was trying too hard. Which was difficult. But Walsh, who was looking at the screen of his cell phone, smiled a bit as he snapped the photo, and I knew I must’ve done something right.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” I said as Walsh slipped his cell back into his pocket. “Shouldn’t we be convincing people we’re growing apart? Not getting closer?”
“No, it’s too soon. We need to drag it out a bit more. Make it more believable. Our honeymoon phase wouldn’t be over yet.” His response was quick as he tossed his phone into the sand, grabbing my hand and pulling me after him. “Come on, let’s go for a swim.”
I blinked, nerves fluttering. “A swim?”
“I already know you’re wearing a suit.”
I yanked my hand free, folding my arms over my chest. “So you were looking through my shirt.”
Walsh stopped just on the edge of where the ocean met the dry sand. “You know, you haven’t asked me many questions for the article. It’s the perfect time to. Swim a little, interview a little. It’ll be fun.” Walsh grabbed my purse strap, tugging. My grip on it tightened and for a moment we just grappled with it. “Do you not want to swim, Sophie?”
“I’m not…like the other girls here, you know.” Ugh, I so shouldn’t have been insecure, but everyone was wearing their pretty bikinis with their beautiful bodies with their flowing hair. Realistically, I knew me in my swimsuit was not a big deal—so many people on the beach wore even less—but I couldn’t shake the feeling, nor the heat in my cheeks. “All cute bikinis and flat stomachs. I’m not—”
Walsh placed a hand over my mouth, his scent filling my senses. The sharp scent of ocean water clung to his skin, smelling familiar, mixing with his natural earthy scent. “If you say you’re not as sexy or amazing as anyone on this beach, Sophia Whatever-Your-Middle-Name-Is Wallace, I’m going to throw you in the bay.”
It was the perfect moment for a snarky remark on my part. Dang, at least a freaking eye roll, because I had to do something other than gape at him, his hand on my lips, holding my jaw from falling to the ground. He’d called me sexy. No one ever called me that before. The word drew my eyes to his own naked chest, tightly toned from all the years of playing sports, a little unevenly tanned from his jersey.
When his hand fell from my lips, I had the strangest urge to reach out and touch him again. Not on his neck this time, but lower, along his flat, muscular stomach, to feel his smooth skin underneath my fingertips. What would he do in response? Would he laugh? Gasp? Reach out himself and trace a fingertip down my bare skin? Would he—
Mentally smacking myself, I forced myself to fill my mouth with slushy until my brain froze. Where had that come from?
“It’s Vanessa.” The words were barely there, breathless. “My middle name is Vanessa.”
He didn’t have to say that he liked it, because the sparkle in his eyes said it all.
Walsh tugged my purse from my grip, dropping it against the dry ground beside his cell before taking off toward the water. I stared after him, his bare back, hating the fact that my lungs refused to draw in air.
“Come on,” he called, turning around with a wide grin. The sun was a backlight behind him, filtering around his body. It made all his edges look soft, almost golden. “Last one to the farthest buoy buys the next slushy.”
Chapter Eleven
People always say “Tell me something no one knows about you,” and I never understood it. I never understood the significance of knowing the little things about someone, things that no one else in the entire