Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 737(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 491(@300wpm)
“They were here around noon,” he says. “No promises we’ll find them, of course, but at least we know the area. You feeling lucky today, Miss Destiny? Like you’re going to live up to your name?”
Damn him.
The way he smiles crushes what’s left of my heart.
I have to turn away, blotting my eyes as I pretend to fix my windswept hair before I can face him again.
“Everybody used to make dumb jokes about my name in middle school. I don’t need you joining in,” I tease back, loving and hating how he laughs.
It’s an amazing sound, almost as rare as those breathtaking animals.
This is such a perfect moment—and this pit in my chest is ruining it.
I feel every tear of my heart like thin paper ripping apart.
Slowly but surely, piece by piece, one lost second at a time.
Go ahead and call it cheesy and sentimental.
It won’t change the fact that I’m losing him and I hate it and there’s nothing I can do.
The thing they never tell you about falling for someone is that sometimes you don’t land in their arms for a happily ever after.
Sometimes you miss, you hit the pavement, and you shatter apart.
His fingers curl around the railing with white-knuckled intensity that makes me wonder what he’s thinking.
The yacht rumbles on, cutting a path through the waves with surgical precision, sending spray through the air that wets my face.
Is holding hands as good as it gets now?
If I threw myself in his arms, would he take me?
I grip the railing tighter, forcing my attention back to the rippling water until a thicker burst of spray splats my face.
“Ick, that’s cold,” I sputter.
Shepherd chuckles beside me.
How do I live without that laugh?
“Anyone would think you’ve never been on the water before.”
“It got in my eye, dude.”
“Let me see.” He reaches for me, turning my face so gently.
I look up through damp eyes to see him looking down at me. His thumbs smooth over my cheeks, delicately massaging them clean.
I want him to kiss me so bad it’s blinding.
The longer we lock eyes, the more my vision blurs.
Dark like mist on the water, willing him to reach down and close this frozen distance between us.
If I could, I’d kiss him right here with the captain and crew watching.
I don’t care.
If I’m losing this after today, better for us to go out with a bang that sends our hearts soaring.
The sheer force of my desperation takes me by surprise, and I bite my lip.
“You’re doing it again,” he whispers raggedly, his hand caressing my face now.
“Doing what?” I mouth.
“Turning me inside fucking out. Dess, when you look at me like that—” He breaks off, inhaling sharply, and his eyes drop to my mouth.
Kiss me now, you emotionally-challenged idiot, I think.
This doesn’t have to be the end.
I beam the thought to him so strongly I swear he must feel it.
Shepherd, please.
But I watch the conflicted thoughts on his face, how his breath fights with the wind.
And it’s the intensifying wind that wins out as he drops his hands and turns away, gripping the railing with both hands.
No, no, no.
“Has anyone bothered you lately in the office? The rumors?” he asks, back to being all business. “Hannah said she had it sorted and shut them down, but I’d rather hear it from you.”
“No, it’s... it’s fine. People look but they don’t talk behind my back. At least, not where I can hear. I think they liked the cinnamon rolls I brought as a peace offering. She did a great job.”
Nodding, he digs a finger into his collar, tugging it loose.
His hair billows back in the wind, so dark and kissed by the sea gods I feel jealous.
I still want to run my fingers through it so badly they hurt.
Yes, this is silly.
It’s like I’m possessed by the spirit of every fifteen-year-old girl with her first crush.
Only, I know exactly where this longing came from.
Just like I know I’m hilariously powerless to stop it.
So I lean forward into the wind, taking its crisp slap across the face. Like that can somehow blunt the hold Shepherd has on my heart.
“Are you cold?” he asks. “We can always move inside, or I can grab you a blanket from the cabin.”
“No, no. This is great. It’s actually refreshing.”
He looks at me without a shred of belief, this emotional elephant we’re not acknowledging growing bigger with every word.
What I should do right now is find a good angle to grab a few shots and short clips to share with my followers.
They’d love this whole excursion, regardless of whether or not there’s an awesome whale sighting at the end.
But I can’t while I have this moment.
This experience with Shepherd is still ours.
It’s too precious to let anything pull me out of it.
Plus, I don’t want anyone else looking into this private little world we’ve carved for ourselves with the sun peeking in and out of the swirling pink clouds and the mountains staring down as our only witnesses.