Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
God, I’m a mess.
I force myself to look back down at my work, my face heating with embarrassment. He’s completely focused, oblivious to the effect he has on me, and yet I feel like my every thought is written on my face.
I just need to finish this necklace. Focus on the work. But even as I try, my mind keeps drifting back to the man sitting just a few feet away—the man who’s quickly becoming the center of my very distracted universe.
“That’s cool you make jewelry,” Ranger says, his deep voice pulling me out of my concentration. I glance up to find him putting his book down on the side table, his dark eyes locking on mine with a kind of intensity that makes my stomach flutter.
I smile shyly, setting down the Tanzanite crystal in my hand. “Thanks. When I was younger, I used to get bored traipsing across the globe with my father.” I twirl the edge of my necklace chain between my fingers, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.
Ranger shifts in his seat, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “Are you bored now?” His question feels loaded, as if he’s not just asking about the moment but about something deeper.
“No, I’m okay,” I reply, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to entertain me or anything.” I set my stones on the coffee table, hoping to keep my hands busy before I do something stupid—like reach out and touch him.
The way the late afternoon sunlight filters through the glass doors behind him only adds to the effect, making him look like a Greek god descended straight from heaven.
“What if I want to entertain you?” he asks, his tone low and teasing, his lips curling into a faint smirk.
My eyes widen slightly, and I feel the heat rushing to my cheeks. “Oh?” I manage, my voice higher than I intended. “And how would you do that?”
Say by kissing me, I think desperately, though I know better than to hope for it. Ranger isn’t thinking about me like that. He’s probably imagining some harmless distraction—a board game or a cheesy card trick. Something light and silly.
But then he rubs his hand over the scruff on his jaw, the slow motion drawing my attention to those maddeningly perfect lips. “I can think of a few things,” he murmurs, his eyes holding mine for a beat too long.
My mouth opens to respond, but no sound comes out. My brain stumbles over itself, caught somewhere between Did he mean that the way it sounded? and Stop being ridiculous, Tory.
He lets the silence linger for a moment before rescuing me. “Let’s go for a walk on the beach,” he suggests, his voice steady and calm, as though he hadn’t just set my imagination spinning.
I nod quickly, standing from the couch and heading toward the door. “Okay, sure.” My voice is a little too eager, but I don’t care. I move toward my shoes, which are neatly placed by the door, ready to slip them on.
“You don’t need shoes for the beach,” he says, his tone amused.
“Oh, um… I knew that,” I stammer, hesitating with one shoe in my hand. Great, I think bitterly. Just add that to the list of reasons why I feel like the biggest idiot on the planet.
I can recite the entire periodic table from memory. I can identify the molecular structure of dozens of compounds without blinking. But sometimes, when it comes to the simplest, most human things, I feel hopelessly out of my depth.
I set the shoe down awkwardly, turning to face him. He’s already waiting by the sliding glass doors, his posture relaxed, but his eyes are sharp, watching me like he sees more than I’m willing to let on.
He slides the door open, stepping onto the lanai, the ocean breeze immediately rushing in to fill the space. I follow him out, the warm sand already calling to my toes, the rhythmic crash of the waves soothing and electric all at once.
As we step off the deck and onto the beach, I glance over at him, the salty air tugging at his dark hair. There’s something about him—something grounded yet untouchable—that makes me feel like I’m walking beside a storm. Calm on the surface, but powerful just beneath.
“I enjoy coming onto the beach at this time of day,” Ranger says, his deep voice blending with the rhythmic crash of the waves. “The sun’s not scorching hot, and there’s a nice breeze off the Atlantic.”
I smile up at him, feeling the soft sand shift beneath my toes. “I rarely go out much,” I admit, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
He glances down at me, his expression thoughtful. “It’s always good to get outside and breathe in some fresh air,” he says, sounding eerily like my father.