“She’s wrong,” he says in a tone that’s final. His hand finds my waist under the water, tugging me closer. “Scarlett, I don’t want someone sophisticated or well-traveled. I wantyou—the girl who gets competitive about carnival games and makes me carry around her enormous stuffed dolphin.”
A small smile tugs at my lips.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” He tucks a damp strand of hair behind my ear. “I see someone brave enough to walk into a room full of strangers and hold her own. A woman who makes my entire family fall in love with her without even trying.” His thumb traces my cheekbone. “Someone who makes me want to be the kind of man who deserves her.”
I nearly stop breathing.
“I see the girl who stole my baseball cap on the beach and never gave it back. The one I made a fool of myself for because I couldn’t stand seeing you with someone else.” His voice drops. “And I see the woman I’ve been trying to talk myself out of loving for over a decade.”
I look down at the water, a smile playing on my lips. “Admit it, you liked the serenade.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Maybe a little.” His eyes drop to my mouth. “Or maybe I just couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else making you smile like that.”
Now I’m softly laughing through my tears. And it’s all this man’s fault.
“I have a very specific type.” His voice is rough and raw, and I can’t get enough of it.
“And that type…is you.”
His eyes trace over my face. “You want to know what I love about you? I like how you bite your lip when making a decision, and that you cry when looking at old pictures. I like that you’re fiercely independent. That you’d rather figure it out yourself than ask for help—even when you probably should.” His eyes trace the dip of my neck, the curve of my shoulder. “I know you’ve beencarrying your family on your back for years since Eli stopped helping and your dad got sick, and nobody ever thinks to ask if you’re okay.” His hand comes up to cup my face. “I think about you every day, Scarlett. Not because I’m trying to. Because I can’t stop.”
I stare at him, a lump in my throat so thick I can’t get any words out. Tears slip down my face again, but not because I’m sad.
For the first time in my life, someone chose me.
He brought me into his family, flaws and all, and made me feel like Ibelonged. I never had to pass any test.
“So when you say you don’t fit,” he says, brushing his thumbs along the hollow of my cheeks, “what I hear is that you don’t fit into a box someone else built for me.” His thumbs stop moving. “I don’t want that, Scarlett. I wantyou—that’s all. I can’t imagine choosing anyone else.”
My hands slide to his chest under the water, and I’m reminded how solid he feels beneath my palms.
“But why didn’t you ever tell me?” I ask.
“I was going to that night on the beach. Then I got the call about Carmen’s accident, and everything changed after that. I missed my chance.” He sighs. “When I moved back to Sully’s Beach, you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me. So I told myself to forget you. Move on and find someone else.” He shakes his head slowly. “The problem was, there was no one else. There never was. There was only you.”
He leans his forehead against mine, and my heart aches for the boy who never got the chance to be with the girl he wanted. “I hated pretending I didn’t care. Because I always knew you fit with me, Scarlett. If anyone isn’t good enough, it’s me. In my eyes, no one holds a candle to you.”
“But look at me!” I motion toward my face. “I’ve been bawling like a baby and my eyes are swollen and?—”
“No.” He puts his finger to my lips to stop me from talking. He’s using that bossy coach voice, and I am here for it. “You arestunning to me.Especiallywith wet hair and tears in your eyes. I wish you could understand what I see every time I look at you.”
He shifts to the bench where I’m sitting and then wraps one hand around my waist, while his other hand slides to my hip. In one smooth motion, he moves me onto his lap. It feels good to be this close, to feel his rough skin against mine.
“I thought you didn’t care,” I say. “That I meant nothing to you.”
“I’ve waited all these years for you, Scarlett,” he counters, eyes blazing. “To tell you that…” Then he leans close, his lips stopping just short of mine. “I’m done waiting.”
His mouth finds mine slowly at first, like he’s savoring the first taste of something he’s wanted for a very long time. His kiss is featherlight and teasing, his lips moving over mine like he’s in no hurry to rush this moment. Just warm and sweet and perfect, everything I remember from before and yet entirely new. He’s letting this kiss linger, tasting and touching and building the suspense until I’m wound so tight, I need more. More of him. More of the tension building between us.
Suddenly, he pulls back, and his eyes flutter open, just enough to search my face.
He’s watching me. And there’s a fire inside his gaze.
“I’ve been hoping you’d finally let me in,” he whispers as his fingers stroke my face, his dark eyes blown wide.
I don’t answer; I’m too caught up in this moment. Right now, I’m fully into the mantra ofa little less talk, a lot more action.
He leans in, angling his face toward mine, but waiting for a response.