Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
He made it to the surf and waited for the waves to come in. As the next series of waves rolled toward him, he counted the seconds until the water touched his toes. The water wasn’t cold, so he walked farther out, hoping for the same result. The Seaport Bay, or whatever the official name was, did not disappoint. It was like bathwater and completely swimmable. Kiel turned and headed back to where he came from to drop his towel and shoes off. He figured a few laps in the water would do him some good.
A bird squawked overhead. Kiel looked up and saw an osprey, its enormous wingspan casting a shadow, flying above him. The bird had a fish in his talon and was likely headed toward a nest or wherever the bird roosted. Near him, another squawked, and then a colony of seagulls followed suit. Kiel chuckled at the audacity the seagulls had at being jealous of the osprey.
Kiel tracked the osprey until it was out of sight and as his eyes traveled downward, he saw her. Whoever she was, the sun loved her because it casted a glow around her, making her look ethereal. She tilted her head toward the sky and her hair blew around her. Kiel shivered, as if he were cold, but he wasn’t. She gathered her long hair and put it in a bun before turning around and walking away. There was something about her that instantly entranced him and the feeling had him wanting to know more about her.
He ran, as fast as he could out of the water. Sand clumped around his wet feet as he trudged toward his towel and flip-flops. Gathering them quickly, he continued toward the boardwalk, needing to find out where she went.
He climbed the stairs and tossed his flip-flops onto the wooden decking and wiped as much of the sand off as he could before slipping his feet into them. He suddenly felt odd in the sense that he was underdressed or should have on Chuck Taylor’s or a different type of slip on. Kiel looked around at the other men to see what they wore—the same as him. So, what did it matter? It didn’t and shouldn’t. Yet, he felt self-conscious about his feet.
The boardwalk was busy. People rushed past him, bumping shoulders, while others stood at the railing and watched the beach goers or stood in front of the large windows, window shopping. Kids screamed, some begged for cotton candy or ice cream from the snack shack, and carousel music drifted through the loudspeaker attached to the side of the building.
Kiel found her, in between two stores, in a shaded walkway. She stood next to an easel with a palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. She wasn’t alone. People milled around her. Some walked by and waved, while others gave her awkward hugs. The people here knew her, which he found odd because he thought everyone would be tourists, not stopping to consider people actually lived on the island full-time. He supposed she could’ve been one of those who returned every summer. He had friends who vacationed in the same spot, year after year, and had created friendships with people who did the same thing. The only place the Colliers had been to multiple times was Disney, and they never stayed in the same hotel more than once.
He waited his turn to go up and talk to her, even though he had no idea what he would say. Introducing himself would be the smartest thing, but after that, all sense of flirting had flushed from his mind. She said goodbye and before he could even take a step forward, she sat down and began painting. Was his opportunity lost?
He wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her. It wasn’t like he could see her painting so complimenting her work was out of the question. Kiel could tell her that he saw her while he was swimming in the ocean and something in his mind told him he needed to find her, to talk to her. That was the cheesiest pick-up line he’d ever thought of and could easily go down in history.
Kiel stood against the railing and watched her hand move quickly across the canvas. Her dark hair was in a bun, but she also had a headband, a blue bandana type tied around her head as well. Had she had it on when he saw her on the boardwalk? She wore overalls splattered with paint, and a white tank top underneath and she sat on one of those metal chairs, the kind that folded up for easy storage, with her right foot tucked under her left leg.
What do they call artists who set up and paint on boardwalks or piers? Kiel hadn’t a clue but had developed a sudden interest in this particular painter. He smiled when her forehead crinkled or when she put the end of the paintbrush in her mouth, to reach for another one. He full on laughed when she stuck one in her hair and then cursed wildly as she pulled her hand away from her hair to find it covered in paint.