Page 2 of Loving Roman (The Summer Twins #3)

–alice–

Soft blues and warm oranges tint the sky as the sun breaches the horizon. I draw in a deep breath of warm, briny air, close my eyes, and tip my head back with a grin. It feels fabulous to have the fresh breeze teasing my hair instead of rushing to get ready for work.

As reluctant as I was to take this vacation, I promised Noah and Heather I’d make the most of every minute.

It’s the first time I’ve taken a vacation since …

well, since … forever ago. My cheeks rise at the memory of them handing me an envelope with a voucher for a week-long stay at a cute little inn overlooking the wild coastline an hour north of the city I’ll now be calling home.

Once I decided to pack up my life and move closer to my son and his wife, they made it their mission to convince me to take a vacation before starting my new job as a social worker with the Department of Child Services.

I couldn’t very well say no when they’d already used their savings to pay for my accommodation.

I drop my head forward and gaze across the pounding waves and the almost empty beach.

It’s too early for most people, but I love this time of the day.

It’s a fresh start; a clean slate for all the wonderful possibilities of what may be.

Slipping my feet out of my flip-flops, I stoop to collect them, then step onto the soft, cool sand to make my way toward the firmer sand near the water.

I lay out my towel and twist my hair into a knot on top of my head.

A few white strands that decorate the front of my hair are too short and fall around my face, but I tuck them behind my ears, hopeful they’ll stay put.

Dropping to my butt, I center myself before moving into child’s pose, ensuring I focus on my breath and alignment as I work through each pose of my morning yoga routine.

As I push into the upward-facing dog pose, a bear of a man jogging along the beach captures my attention. He cuts a rather imposing figure, but I can see he’s light on his feet. His shirt is darker around his neck and beneath his armpits, and as he comes closer, I notice he’s quite handsome.

When he’s within a few feet of me, he tips his head with a smile. “Beautiful morning,” he says, not even slightly puffed, despite his exertion.

The deep timbre of his voice renders me almost speechless, and all I can muster is a breathy yeah before he’s passing.

I move into downward dog so I can keep him in my sight.

He spins, running backward, grinning at me with raised brows, and it’s at that moment I realize I have my ass on full display for him.

My cheeks heat, and it’s not from the warmth of the morning sun.

Oh my god, how embarrassing. He spins around, facing forward and continues on his way, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the play of his muscles beneath his tight green T-shirt.

Oh my!

It’s been a long time since I’ve noticed a handsome man, and I’m not sure I recognize the sensation making its way through my body.

It’s not until I’m in my low lunge pose that I’m composed enough to return my focus and intention inward.

It takes tremendous effort to keep my eyes from drifting down the beach in search of the handsome runner and keep my focus where it belongs.

Sitting up after completing my routine in the Shavasana pose, I catch sight of someone out of the corner of my eye.

My heart skips when I notice it’s the man who jogged by earlier.

I trail my eyes up his powerful body, admiring his muscular legs to his stomach, which has the beginnings of a paunch.

His broad chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths, and when I make it to his face, a smirk touches his lips as he raises a brow at me.

“Quite a striking view,” he says, mirth in his voice.

“Uh-huh. It really is,” I agree as I moisten my suddenly dry lips. All the internal balance and calm I achieved over the last thirty minutes crashes to the shore, leaving me off-balance.

He takes a step closer and towers over me in my lowered position.

He must be well over six feet and all man.

I push to my feet, brushing the sand from my hands as the space between us diminishes.

He stops two feet away from me and I tilt my head back to maintain eye contact with this handsome stranger.

I feel somewhat exposed in my yoga outfit—which leaves nothing to the imagination, including the muffin top which can’t be contained by my leggings—especially with this stranger’s eyes on me.

Stooping, I scoop up my towel and pretend to wipe non-existent sweat from my neck in an inane attempt to hide some of my flaws.

His smirk drops as creases form between his dark brows. He holds out his hand, and I fumble with my towel to shake it. “I’m Roman.”

Gosh, even his name’s strong. I slide my hand into his, and he almost swallows it whole. My heart hammers like a beat from Noah’s favorite heavy metal music. “Alice. Nice to meet you.”

He tips his head toward the spot where I was practicing yoga. “I’ve always wanted to try yoga, but I’m not very flexible.”

I look back at the spot, like I need to be reminded of what I was just doing, and chuckle. “Oh, I wasn’t flexible at first either. It took time, patience, and practice.”

“Well, it’s certainly paid off,” he says suggestively as his eyes trace over my body, making my blood heat and stomach flip.

As a woman closer to fifty, it’s been a long time since someone looked at me with interest. And while the feminist in me bristles and should call him out on his blatant perusal, the woman in me preens under his heated gaze.

“Thank you.” I dip my head demurely and curtsy at his compliment.

What the hell? I may as well giggle like a schoolgirl while I’m at it.

My entire body heats from the inside out as if someone’s turned the furnace full blast. Shit, that’s all I need right now—a hot flash.

My body burns hotter and hotter, and I’m thankful for the cool morning air, but it’s not really helping to control my internal thermostat.

His smile widens, causing deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes. The depth of the creases tells me this man smiles a lot. He pushes his hair away from his face, and I admire the way his bicep bulges beneath his T-shirt, the green doing amazing things against his tanned skin.

He tips his chin toward the top of the cliff where a café perches close to the edge of the rugged terrain, and I follow with a turn of my head.

“I was heading to breakfast.” My stomach drops.

I guess that’s the end of our encounter.

“Would you like to join me?” My stomach swoops without permission, so I lay my hand across my middle, trying to control my reaction to Roman .

I pause for a moment to evaluate the situation. I don’t know this man, but I’m not getting any unsavory vibes from him. The café will be busy at this time of the morning, and I promised Noah and Heather I’d enjoy everything this vacation has to offer.

The hope in his eyes dims a little the longer I take to answer. “Sure. I could eat.”

His grin is instantaneous. “Fantastic. I hate eating alone.”

We turn toward the steep pathway that leads to the café, and I wave off his comment. “I eat alone all the time. I’m used to my own company now, though it took a little while to get used to.” I chuckle.

He pushes his hair away from his strong forehead again. “I never eat alone, so I find it … odd when I do. I can’t even remember the last time I took a vacation. This one was kind of forced on me.” He laughs, but it holds no humor.

My stomach falls, and I study his left hand for evidence of a wedding ring, but there’s nothing there. Not even an indent or tan line. I remind myself that not all men wear a ring, then slide my defenses back into place. I’m not into married men.

I stop walking. “Uh, I just remembered I have a tour booked and I need to shower and change. I don’t want to be late.”

He stops too, deep lines forming across his forehead. “You still have to eat, right?”

Rubbing my hand across the pooch of my stomach, I shift on my feet. “Uh, I’ll just grab a coffee at the inn I’m staying at.”

Disappointment slides over his features, and his shoulders slump. I feel terrible for putting that look on his face, and the people-pleaser in me wants to revoke my words.

“Oh.” He runs his hand through his dark hair, and I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Alice. Maybe I’ll see you around.

I’m here for one week.” He holds out his hand again, and I slip mine into it.

Closing his fingers around mine, he squeezes lightly, and it almost feels like a full-body hug.

His easy acceptance of my sudden change in plans disarms me and should make me feel better, but it doesn’t.