Page 9 of Hearts Adrift (A Texas Beach Town Romance #4)

I come up and lean on the wall by the other side of the door, facing him.

“Windows are just barriers between us and the real world. Staring through glass feeling like you’re a part of life, but you’re not really experiencing it.

You can see what the rocky beach looks like, but can you actually describe how the stones feel under your bare feet? ”

He gives it a thought. “Seems … ironic, doesn’t it?”

I meet his eyes, finding him smirking. He even looks cute when he smirks. “What do you mean?”

“When you make movies for a living?” He sees that I don’t follow, then shifts his weight. “I mean, isn’t that the only way people get to experience your stories? Through a pane of glass? If that’s what a TV screen can be called …”

“Maybe in the 90s.”

“And it hurts, by the way,” he goes on. “Walking with bare feet on that rocky shore. Wouldn’t recommend it. It’s not really for people to walk on, anyway.”

I gaze over said shore, hearing waves crashing in the dark, a faint glow of the moon scattering over the jagged rocks like spilled paint. “Can’t say I’ve experienced that.”

“I’d recommend the other beaches on the island. South end, Breezeway Point. On the west end, Sugarberry Beach. Then there’s Cottonwood Cove, which is a secluded—”

“I’ve done nice beaches,” I tell him. “I want to do an ugly one. An ugly one people aren’t supposed to walk on.”

“But—Wait.” I’m kicking off my sandals. “Seriously?”

“I just want to know what it feels like.” I straddle the wooden railing, then glance back at him.

“Maybe I’m in a weird place, too. Emotionally.

In my life. A journey over a deadly beach in the dark sounds exactly like what I need.

” I hop over to the other side, the gravel crunching satisfyingly beneath my feet.

Despite his sputtering protests, I take off down the jagged rocks and stones toward the water.

I’m surprised when I notice Finn following me.

“This is dangerous,” he calls out at me over the roaring waves. “Really, Mr. River, I don’t recommend—”

“Just River, plain ol’ River. You’re aging me ten years with that ‘mister’ nonsense.”

He catches up to me, by my side now. “There’s even a sign, further back that way. Guests shouldn’t—”

I stop. “You always do what you’re told?”

He frowns at me, then reconsiders. “Not always.”

“I’ll be the first to admit it, I don’t usually think before I act.

It’s why I get into trouble: the traits I inherited from my impulsive, alcoholic mother.

” I keep going. He follows. “And maybe I should have listened to you before taking off barefooted down this rocky slope—my feet are screamin’ at me—but there’s a kind of high you can only get by doing what you’re told not to do, and how else are we gonna—Wow, what a view! ”

We come to a stop at the edge of the water. Across its rippling surface, colorful lights sparkle like magic from the Hopewell Fair. I’m so captivated by the sight, I forgot what I was even saying.

“You could … really fall in love with a view like this,” I catch myself saying, amazed. “My eyes feel as wide as the sea. It just goes on and on in the dark like this … can’t even see or imagine where it stops, if it even does.”

Finn stands by my side, taking it in as well.

The silence between us feels filled with something else I can’t name. Something electric. Tingly. Expectant .

“You don’t fall in love with your eyes, when it comes to the sea,” he says.

His words catch me by surprise. “You don’t?”

His eyes still on the dark horizon, he puts a hand to his chest. “You fall in love with the sea through your heart.”

Oh, wow. He’s a romantic.

If I didn’t already find him cute, he has to go and make himself even cuter with his seaside poetry.

“Your heart …” I murmur, trying not to smile.

“Though not technically the sea,” he starts rambling. “Gulf. Ocean. Coast. Whatever you want to call it.”

“Aren’t humans funny?” I murmur, trying my own hand at being poetic, wanting to impress him.

“Cutting up the land and the water of the world into little pieces, giving everything names … as if any of it belongs to any of us.” I drink in the side of his face as he peers longingly into the dark.

“We’re all just … here for now … a blip in the long, ancient, unknowable life of this planet.

Who are we to say what anything is at all? ”

He turns his eyes onto me right then.

I gaze back, putting on my charming smile.

See, island boy, I could say with a playful nip, if I was more daring. I can be poetic, too .

His eyes pull quickly away to the water, but not quite. “Haven’t seen the Fair from this angle in a long time,” he admits suddenly, changing topics to avoid acknowledging the brief connection we just made, I presume.

I smirk. “So you’ve seen this angle before?” I ask with a hint of amusement. “Meaning … you broke the rules in the past and came down to this rocky beach yourself?”

He cracks a smile, giving in. “When we were kids, my sisters and I sometimes came and played down here.”

“Sisters? More than one?”

“Two. Both older.”

I give him a nudge. “So you got a bit of a troublemaker in you, too, huh, Finn?”

He looks at me. The waves hiss as they comb through the stones. Somehow, the roar of Mother Nature makes me extra aware of just how by-ourselves we are right now. All alone. No cameras. No hidden stalkers. No crushing weight of responsibility and dread. Just his sweet, guarded eyes.

“It wasn’t the compliment that scared me off earlier,” he volunteers suddenly.

I lift my eyebrows, listening. “I’ve just been through a lot lately.

With someone. My ex. He’s no longer in the picture.

But ever since him, I … I don’t know if I trust my instincts yet.

My heart is … a little lost at sea right now, forgive the pun. ”

“Maybe it isn’t a pun,” I suggest right back, catching him off-guard.

“Life’s a big ol’ sea, and it seems perfectly reasonable to me that after a tough time, you can feel left out on a rickety raft in the middle of it, not knowing who or what to trust, even when it comes to your own heart.

” The waves swallow up the space between my words.

My head feels so clear right now, I wonder how I ever coped without this level of peace before. “I do know one thing for sure.”

“What’s that?”

His foot slips out from under him.

I don’t know how it happens, but I’m lightning fast as I reach for Finn. In the space of half a second, I’ve got him in my arms, catching his fall. His wide eyes are on me as I hold him in place, our faces inches apart. My heart drums so loudly, I can’t even hear the waves anymore.

He finds his footing but doesn’t let go of me nor look away from my eyes.

“You can stay lost at sea as long as you need to,” I tell him, “but … you don’t have to be lost alone.”

Both of us, suspended in the dark, crashing symphony of ocean waves around us, neither of us saying a thing.

Is his heart beating as loudly as mine?

He lets go of my arms so fast, I worry he’ll fall again. “I need to go,” he says, turns and starts heading off, stops, then adds, “Be careful. Lots of slippery stones out here.”

Then I watch him go the rest of the way. I find myself wondering if there’s some hidden meaning in that last thing he said. So many slippery stones, indeed .