The Reality of Everything - Rebecca Yarros Page 0,27
It’s not a date.
Ugh. Did he have to look so good? He walked over to meet us, barefoot in swim trunks, the wind ruffling his hair and plastering his T-shirt against his carved-by-Michelangelo body.
“You made a picnic?” I asked, hoping my voice didn’t sound as breathless to him as it did to me. What the hell was wrong with me? He wasn’t the first attractive man I’d been around since…everything happened, but he was the first I was attracted to, that was for sure.
“Don’t get excited. It’s just snacks.” He shrugged with a little smile that did inappropriate things to my stomach.
“Pickles, and strawberries, and Skittles!” Finley raced over to the blanket.
“And low tide,” I said softly. He’d remembered his promise, and damn if that wasn’t more attractive than his looks.
“And low tide.” We stood there staring at each other for a moment longer than neighborly friendliness suggested. “So, how has your week been?” he asked, leading me to the blanket.
“Full of Steve, and choices, and diner food,” I replied, crossing my legs under me and sitting next to Finley. “You?”
“Work and urchin-chasing,” he said, digging containers out of the cooler and tossing a wink at Finley. “Maybe I could introduce you to Christina. She’s Hastings’s wife. Super level-headed, nice, all that. Owns a shop in town, since you’re stuck there for another week or so.”
“I have friends,” I said defensively.
“Here?” he questioned, handing me a plastic container.
“Well, no. I have Mia and Joey up in Nags Head, and Sam will be back in a couple of weeks to spend the summer with me. She had to fly home to Colorado so she could take care of a couple things and grab more clothes. The rest of my friends are, well, a lot of other places.”
“Well, it never hurts to have more friends, and I’m happy to hook you up.”
I thanked him, and we devoured our snacks while Finley regaled me with tales of her week. She’d baked cookies with her grandmother, then visited the aquarium and the ship museum, and taken a kiteboarding lesson.
“On the ocean?” I asked, letting my mouth hang open in overexaggeration.
“Yep! I had a vest on. No biggie.” She brushed a handful of red curls behind her ear, revealing a smattering of freckles that hadn’t been there last week. “Can I go search now?” she asked Jackson, already bouncing on her knees.
“Stay close,” he instructed, and she was off, racing toward the water.
I helped Jackson pack up our picnic, secured the bag to a large rock, and then we headed toward where Finley walked along the waterline.
“Okay, see where the sandbar has a little break in the middle?” We paused where a shallow rivulet of water ran through the bar.
“This is the riptide?” My eyes narrowed as I studied the water running from the pool in the sandbar back to the ocean. “It’s so small.”
“Sure, right now. Bring in the tide, and the amount of water it’s sucking back out grows exponentially.”
“Seems right.” I scanned the sand on the bank, hoping to find another piece of glass to add to my collection. “I mean, it’s always the things that look harmless that end up wrecking you, right?”
He studied my face for a handful of seconds before nodding. “Yeah, I guess you could say that, if you’re the kind of person always looking for the riptide.”
“I’m actually the opposite, if you can’t tell, just standing in the middle of it, thinking it’s harmless, surprised when it knocks my feet from under me.” I looked down the beach, where Finley was doing some searching of her own. “So what’s she looking for?”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching Finley pick something up. “She wants a perfect conch shell. We come out a lot at low tide so she can search.”
We passed a family building a sandcastle, and I offered them a smile.
“What’s she going to do once she gets the perfect conch?”
Jackson grinned. “Decide she wants something else and start that search.”
I chuckled. “Typical girl. We want what we want until we have it, and then it’s on to the next thing.”
“That’s most guys, too,” he countered.
“You?”
He shook his head. “Not really. At least not since Finley was born. Kids have a way of changing the way you look at the world and your role in it.” He paused, bending down to grab something. He brushed his thumb over it and then grinned, handing it to me. “Here you go. It’s pink. That color’s really rare.”