When they topped the dune, they stopped to drink in the wide curve of beach stretched out before them. The sun was sinking low, and already the horizon blushed rose-gold. The angled light burnished the surf and glimmered on the wet sand.
Coming here with Xander was a turning point, a transition from mere flirtation to real connection. The beach was her healing place. When troubles overwhelmed her, the sea breeze held magical powers to blow them away, leaving her clean and clear. It was also here she came to connect with friends and family—really one and the same in Trappers Cove. Nights spent singing and laughing around a bonfire counted among her fondest memories.
So when Xander drew her arm through his, snugged her to his side, and started down the dune onto the beach, it felt like crossing a threshold.
A few pickups and SUVs sat to the south, halfway toward Ivan’s Hollow, and the faint sound of salsa music carried on the wind.
Xander inclined his head. “Too bad the tide’s in. I’d love to see the Hollow again. Which way shall we start?”
She turned toward the partiers because she didn’t quite trust herself with Xander on the more deserted end of the beach. With the stiff breeze tousling his dark curls and the golden sunlight glinting in his eyes, it took all her strength to keep her hands to herself.
For a while, they walked in companionable silence, breathing in the tangy salt air and listening to the surf’s whoosh and hiss. Gulls tap-danced on the surf-slicked sand and ruffled their feathers. Busy little plovers darted to and fro, pecking out their dinner. A galumphing Golden Retriever ran to intercept them and dropped a soggy tennis ball at their feet.
“Max, get back here,” someone hollered from the cluster of pickups.
Laughing, Xander dropped to one knee and gave the happy pup a thorough head-scratch before pitching the ball back where it came from. Tongue lolling, the dog tore off after it.
“Good arm,” Hannah observed, and patted his biceps.
“Who’s the flatterer now?” But his grin gleamed with pride.
“Just a simple statement of fact. You’re very muscly. Weights?”
“Belonged to a neighborhood gym up in Seattle. Now it’s just boring calisthenics and running. You?”
“Beach walks and yoga. Yoga Bliss on Main Street has a great juice bar.”
He nodded, but his eyes seemed glazed over.
“Guess yoga’s too boring for a guy like you.”
“Not at all.” He gave a sheepish grin. “Imagining you in downward dog pose kinda blew all other thoughts right out of my head.”
“Shut up.” She socked his arm, secretly tickled to her core. “Did you ever camp out there as a kid? In the Hollow, I mean.”
“Only once. Gus and Marty packed enough food for an army, but it was just the three of us.”
She pictured a skinny, mop-headed boy of seven or eight squirming with excitement as his aunt and uncle set up camp. “S’mores?”
“Of course. And hot dogs, corn on the cob, basically anything you could put on a stick and roast over a campfire. Martha played her ukulele.” His steps slowed as he sank into the memory. “Good times.”
“Right? Beach kids are the luckiest, I think.” She bumped him with her hip. “I’m glad you got to be one, if only during the summer.”
They started forward again, but he wheeled her around to face him. “Do you think we ever met?”
She searched her memory but couldn’t retrieve a trace. And she’d have remembered a kid with a cool name like Xander, not to mention his playful smile—something she hadn’t seen enough of before now. Seems the beach was doing him good.
The same held true for her. Out here, it was easy to forget all the complications separating them and justbe.Two simpatico people exploring a new connection and enjoying the moment.
She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t think so. I mean, chances are we crossed paths, but there were so many summer kids, you know?”
“Did you make friends with any of them?”
“Only for the summer. After they left, well…” She smiled at the bittersweet memory. “Like most townie kids, I learned to focus on friendships that would last, because visitors always forget about you once they leave.”
His expression shifted, suddenly solemn. With his bent forefinger, he traced the line of her jaw, igniting shivers that had nothing to do with the cold wind.
“Hannah, I could never forget you.”
