by Skye Taylor
“Just letting the birthday girl win. Won’t happen again.” Ben bent to untie his shoes. He pulled them off, then his socks and tossed them in a heap beside the path. He began rolling up his trousers. Then he straightened and stared down at her. His brow once again furrowed.
Of course it won’t happen again. Rising to the challenge and racing him to the beach was hardly the sort of thing Ben’s type of woman was likely to do. Meg groaned at herself in frustration.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She bent and removed the sparkly sandals and tossed them into the pile with Ben’s shoes and socks.
How exactly did Ben’s type behave in a romantic setting like this? Meg caught her breath, swallowed hard, and reached for Ben’s hand.
His fingers closed around hers, warm, strong, and exciting. The catch in her breathing kept getting harder to disguise.
They crossed the beach toward the water, walking until the waves running up the beach tickled their feet before sucking the sand out from under them as it retreated again. Ben angled their path to walk along the edge of the tide line. “Is it too cliché to offer you a penny for your thoughts?”
She shook her head, still working up the courage to ask him her big question.
“Are you worried about boot camp?”
Again she shook her head.
He squeezed her hand a little tighter and swung their joined hands between them.
“So . . .” He stopped walking and pulled her around to face him. “Something’s on your mind. Care to share?”
“Will you—” she gulped. Ask him. Just say it. “Will you take me somewhere? Like out to eat or maybe to a movie, I mean. Or anywhere. It doesn’t matter where, just . . . just out?”
Ben stood so still it seemed like he might even be holding his breath. Meg’s heart pounded so hard it echoed in her head.
“Are you asking me for a date?” he finally said.
“Yes,” she gasped.
The moon was higher and much brighter now. She could see his face clearly, but he kept his emotions from showing. What was he thinking? That CJ’s kid sister had lost her mind? That she wasn’t his type? How to let her down without hurting her? Or maybe, just maybe, how to say yes? Please God, let it be the last.
A smile suddenly creased his face. His teeth gleamed brightly in the moonlight. “CJ will have a fit.”
“I’m eighteen. CJ can have all the fits he wants. So—?” She leaned closer. Emboldened by his smile and the fact that he’d said CJ would have a fit. As if it was a done deal. “So, will you?”
Instead of answering, Ben let go of her hand and spanned her waist. His hands were big and made her waist feel even smaller. He drew her closer. So slowly that it felt like he’d never get there, he lowered his head toward hers.
The glimmer in his eyes intensified, and emotion showed all over his face in the moments before his lips touched hers and she shut her eyes.
The fireworks were spectacular. Maybe she was Ben’s type after all.
The End
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Falling for Zoe
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Loving Meg
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About the Author
Photo by Sky Dive New England
I have been a member of Romance Writers of America since 1995 and of the Ancient City chapter in St. Augustine, Florida, for the last five years, where I have served as secretary, conference chair, and treasurer. I am also a member of Florida Writers Association. My publishing credits to date include several non-fiction essays about life as a Peace Corps Volunteer, one mainstream political intrigue, Whatever It Takes, published in June 2012 by Wings Press, and the Tide’s Way series from Bell Bridge Books.