Page 35 of I Saw Her First
“Hey.” I set the camera on the backpack and take her gently by the shoulders, forcing her gaze to mine. I know I probably shouldn’t touch her again, but it feels imperative that she hears this, that she understands how serious I am. “It’s not your job to repair my relationship with my son. It’s not your job to make Jesse’s life better. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel you had to take on that responsibility.”
Her breathing becomes shallow as her dark gaze bores into mine. The beach around us falls away, and I become aware of thesoftness of her skin under my hands, the heat emanating from her. Her loose hair lifts in the breeze, swirling around us, and for a moment I imagine it becoming a curtain, shielding us from the world, creating a place where we can hide together. A place where I can press my mouth to hers, draw her body close, and let my hands roam across every soft curve of her skin.
A seagull wheels overhead, its piercing cry snapping me back to my senses, and I inhale a shuddering breath, stepping back.
What the hell am I doing? Only a few days ago she was Jesse’s girlfriend. Yes, he ruined things, and yes, she wanted to end it too, but that doesn’t meanIcan have her. I can’t betray my son by getting together with his ex-girlfriend, despite how hurtful and thoughtless he was. He’s still my son after all, and on top of that, I can’t be with someone my own son has been with. That’s just wrong. It goes against the laws of nature or something.
And even if none of that were true, there are other things standing between us. Daisy is young and full of life. She has her entire future ahead of her. Meanwhile, I come with so much baggage I need my own 747 to fly.
I turn away to stare at the sea, knowing I need to take a moment away from Daisy to get my head straight. The sun beats down on us, making my skin prickle with heat, but I know that’s not the only thing affecting me.
“I’m going in,” I mutter, tugging my shirt off and striding into the water before I have a chance to hear Daisy’s response. I dive into the surf and swim ten yards out, putting as much distance as I possibly can between us without vanishing into the Long Island Sound.
I’m about to swim a few laps to cool off when I glimpse Daisy on the beach. She hesitates before peeling her dress over her head, revealing that damned white string bikini underneath.Then she cautiously wades into the small waves with her head lowered.
I tread water, my gaze riveted on the creamy skin of her bare stomach, her thighs. I feel like a fucking pervert, but I can’t tear my gaze from her curves, from the smattering of freckles across her chest, her dark hair cascading to her waist, and the way her breasts perfectly fill out the tiny triangles of fabric. I could untie that bikini in one motion and pull it off. I could grab her by the waist and pull her into me and taste her—
Stop.
I tear my gaze from her figure and clench my fists under the water, but it’s too late. The image sends blood rushing south, and my cock stiffens in my trunks.
Jesus fucking Christ, I need to get my shit together.
You can’t have her, I remind myself.She can never be yours.
It takes ten minutes of furious swimming for my dick to get the message, and only when she’s back on the sand in her dress again do I stalk out of the water and pull my towel from the backpack, unable to look at her. Shame claws at me as I tug my shirt over my damp skin and snatch up the camera again. I’m so fucking irritated, letting myself get distracted from the reason I brought her out here. Today isn’t about me. I need to get out of my head and focus on what Daisy needs.
Turning to the ocean, I frame up a shot, trying to capture the way the sun reflects off the surface of the water. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but that doesn’t matter. I need her to be tempted by the camera. All I want to do today is to get Daisy to shoot one photo. One photo, and I’ll be happy.
After playing with the camera for a while, the heat becomes too much, but there’s no way I’m getting back in the water with her. I search for shade, spying some trees in the meadow that meets the reserve beyond the low dunes. Maybe we can sit there and get out of the sun for a while.
“Come on,” I say, gesturing for Daisy to follow me. I hoist the backpack onto my shoulder as we head through the dunes and into the meadow. The grass is knee high, a vibrant green, filled with white and yellow daisies.
Daisy gasps as we wade into the grass, and I set the backpack down under a gray birch tree.
“Wow. So many daisies,” she murmurs, plucking one with a melancholy smile. “They’re my favorite.” She holds the flower and gazes down at it, her expression so soft and unguarded that I can’t help myself. I lift the Nikon and snap a picture of her.
She blinks, glancing up.
“Is that because they’re your namesake?” I ask, watching her through the lens. I don’t take another picture, not yet, but I get the sense that having something between us might make her feel less exposed.
She breathes out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “No. They’re not my namesake.”
I’m so busy watching her through the viewfinder that I don’t even process her words properly. Not until she adds,
“The truth is… my name isn’t Daisy.”
15
Daisy
Weston lowers the camera, blinking at me in shock. “What?”
“Itismy namenow,” I say quickly. “I legally changed it, but it wasn’t my given name.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “What name were you given?”
I hesitate. I haven’t said this name aloud for seven years, but there’s something about being in this beautiful setting, with Weston’s open, curious gaze trained on me, that lets my defenses fall away.
