His thumb strokes the back of my hand, and just that simple motion is enough to set off a fresh cascade of butterflies in my stomach.
By the time we turn off the road, I’m teasing him. “We’re lost aren’t we?”
“Have a little faith,” he fires back, before he pulls my hand up to his mouth and turns it upright, spreading my fingers to kiss my open palm. That touch. I feel heat all the way down into my belly, and hot between my thighs. I shift against the seat, trying not to let the flush creep up my neck to my face. And probably failing completely, to judge by the little smirk he aims in my direction.
Then I notice the road we’re winding down, and my lips part in surprise. The road winds down the edge of the cliffs at this part of the shoreline, growing narrower with every zig and zag. My stomach drops at the sight of the drop. But even more than that, at the bottom…
“Where is this?” I ask, my eyebrows climbing my forehead. I’ve lived here—or at least, within a short drive of here—my entire life, and I’ve never been to this part of the coast. The beach at the bottom is small, but beautiful. It’s cupped between two sheer cliff faces, a little slice of white sand that looks like the Caribbean. The water, I know, will be colder, but still, from here it’s a gorgeous, deep blue.
“I found it when I was a teenager,” he explains, as we reach the last loop of road. There’s not even a parking lot, really. Just a small gravel turnaround, with no marked signs. He parks at the very end of the road and turns to meet my gaze. “The summer after my dad died, I used to come here all the time to think.”
“Oh, I didn’t… I’m so sorry, Lark.” I squeeze his hand.
He just smiles. “It was a long time ago. I still miss him, but…” He squeezes back. “Whenever I would come here, and lie on the sand just watching the waves…” He glances away from me again, out over the water. “I used to feel connected to him again, you know? To something bigger than myself.”
I follow his gaze, out over the sea. The waves are big—this beach would be a surfer’s dream. But I’m glad we have it all to ourselves. It feels like we’ve escaped to a private world, just the two of us, and here, we can be anyone we want to be. Here, whatever this is growing between us doesn’t need to be complicated or messy. We can just… be.
“I can see that,” I murmur, and Lark flashes me a smile.
“Come on.” He steps out and crosses to open my door before I can even reach for it. I laugh when he does—I’m not used to guys treating me like this, opening doors for me. But he insists. He also insists on carrying everything, despite me offering to help with the umbrella at least, multiple times.
I trail him down to the shoreline, and together we lay out the blanket, and he digs the umbrella into the sand while I open the cooler. “Champagne?” I laugh. “Is that a beach drink?”
“It is when you have something to celebrate,” he replies, after he’s finished aligning the umbrella to give us the best shade. He drops down beside me, and pops the cork to pour us both glasses. He even brought proper champagne flutes, albeit the plastic kind, I assume so we don’t break glass here on the beach.
When he’s finished, he holds out my glass, and raises his own.
“What are we celebrating?” I ask, my eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Easy.” He taps his glass against mine. “Us finding each other. You’re easily the best thing to happen to me in years, Cassidy. I want you to know that.”
My heart skips. I conceal my pleased flush with a long sip of champagne. It’s delicious, the bubbles tickling my nose on the way down. Then I dig my toes into the sand and glance out over the water. The waves are big today, wild and cascading. But the sound those big waves make is relaxing, more than anything. A crash and shush, over and over, that would lull me to sleep in a heartbeat if I let it.
“Did you used to come here with Sheryl?” I ask, because I’m an idiot, and apparently I can’t just let myself enjoy good moments.
Lark glances over at me, his eyes unreadable in the reflected sunlight off the water. “No,” he says, after a quiet pause. “I’ve never brought anyone else here. I wanted to keep it to myself; it’s always been my private place to think.”
Holding his gaze, my heartbeat quickens. “Why bring me, then?”
He sets his champagne aside. Then he reaches out to take mine, and tucks it into the sand, before he leans in to cup my chin, drawing my face toward his, until we’re mere inches apart, his breath a tickle over my lips. “Because I want you to know me. And because I want to know you, too, Cassidy. All of you. I don’t want any secrets between us anymore.”