big enough to push a smile to her lips as she followed his gaze to the burned amber glow of the pooling sun. It was beautiful. And, with the mellow notes of Jack Johnson filtering the rush of city traffic rising from the streets below, peaceful.
For long moments they watched, remaining quiet until the last molten drop bled beneath the horizon.
Forearms resting over the rail, muscular back rounded beneath the pull of his shirt, the familiar stranger beside her let out a long, deeply contented breath.
“Wow. That good, huh?” she asked teasingly, anxious to relieve the unsettling intimacy of the moment.
Casting her a sidelong glance, he considered. Then, pushing back to straighten, he shoved his hands into his pockets and met her gaze in earnest. “Yeah, it was.”
“Not a lot of time for sunsets?”
His mouth pulled to the side and his broad shoulders hunched forward. “You know, it’s not that I haven’t seen them. More a matter of being too caught up in everything else going on—where I’ve got to be next, how much needs to get done, what all’s about to get away from me.” He shook his head, a frown darkening his gaze as it held hers. “Been a long time since I’ve been able to slow down and just … enjoy the simple stuff. Too long.”
A few plainly spoken words. Nothing particularly deep. And yet the way he’d said them—as though making a reluctant admission—gave them power enough to penetrate the superficial and resonate within her.
“I get it. The little things have a way of passing you by pretty quickly if you aren’t paying attention. And then, when you finally notice, sometimes all you’ve missed doesn’t exactly feel so small.”
“Yeah, that’s about it.” He laughed then—a brusque, dismissive sound—but even as he did so those deep blue eyes held hers with an almost questioning intensity. “So what’s been passing you by?”
Maybe just this.
She should have looked away. Made light of the two of them standing there. Thrown out a joke or an excuse to put some space between them. Only for the first time in three years she didn’t want the space or the buffer of meaningless banter. She wanted to stretch the moment and all the simplicity it offered—make it last for the both of them.
That was crazy. She didn’t know this guy. Didn’t know anything more than that he’d made some vague reference to a busy life and the desire not to miss out on the simple stuff. And yet there was something about him—an odd sense of familiarity, connection—that made her feel like she did. Made her think about her own life and the simple things she avoided out of fear for the complications they could bring.
“That much, huh?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts with a reminder she hadn’t answered. Laugh lines creased the skin around his eyes as he cocked his head to the side. “Looks like we could both use a few more sunsets.”
“Looks like,” she agreed, all too grateful for the simple reprieve.
Damn, there it was again. That hot red rising to the surface of her skin. Betraying the woman beneath in all the best ways. He couldn’t get enough, and it was taking the bulk of his restraint not to work her pretty blush for everything it was worth.
But he hadn’t come to Jesse’s welcome-home party to pick someone up. In fact finding a woman had been the last thing on his mind.
He’d wanted to go out. Reconnect with friends. Watch a sunset.
After six years of walking through his front door with half his takeout already consumed and heading straight to his back office—where, on a good day, he’d be able to set aside one kind of work for another—he was done. And now, degree in hand, he wanted the straightforward simplicity of knowing he’d put his day to bed and the night was his … finally … to do with as he pleased.
But there she’d been. Looking lost. And, damn, he hadn’t known what. Having raised his four sisters through their teens, he found his mind had a way of going to dark places pretty fast when he didn’t understand what was happening. Thank God he’d been wrong. Only by the time he’d understood where all that vulnerability was coming from—the mad make-out scene which even he had to admit had been pretty intense—she’d made his radar. Registered as more than a collection of pleasing physical attributes falling under the category of female.
And then she’d been standing there, backlit by the cooling sky, looking into his eyes with that thoughtful kind of amazement in hers telling him she got him. Making him wonder if maybe she did.
“Well, would you look what the cat dragged in?” came the first of several raucous calls, derailing his train of thought as a group of the old crew jogged up to the rooftop.
“Sam said you were here, man, but I didn’t dare believe.”
“Dude! No way.”
Laughing brown eyes peered up at him. “All this is for you?”
“So it would seem,” he answered, with a wide grin at seeing so many of the old faces he’d lost touch with. “It’s been a while.”
“Too long?” she asked, a mirthful smile playing across her lips.
“Definitely too long.”
Just then her phone sounded and, holding it up with a little wave, she started to back away. “I’ll let you catch up, then.”
He reached for her elbow. Followed her gaze as it slipped to the point of contact between them, lingered and then returned almost tentatively to his.
“Thanks for the sunset, Red.”
“You too, Blue Eyes,” she offered quietly, backing away as he withdrew his hand, before she took the stairs down to Sam’s apartment.
A solid clap on his shoulder pulled him back to the guys, the laughter, greetings and jibes.
“Damn, Garrett. What are you? Here fifteen minutes and already you’ve got the next victim cued up and ready to go. I bow to you, dude.”
Garrett Carter looked back at the guys he’d gone to high school with and shook his head.
Aw, hell. Not this again.
PHONE CLUTCHED to her ear, Nichole stopped in the quiet alcove at the bottom of the stairwell, her heart thumping in her chest. “I think I dipped a toe back in the pool.”
“Wait—what? You think—” Maeve’s distracted voice was cut off as her breath was sucked in. “Shut it! You didn’t … Oh, my God—tell. Tell!”
Nichole hadn’t gotten more than a few sentences in when Maeve interrupted.
“Stop, stop, stop. Set the stage, for crying out loud. Details. And, so you don’t waste my time with a lot of trash about the temperature or the number of cigarette butts around the roof, I’m talking about the guy. Hotness ranking. The good kind of dirty or clean-cut? Build and bulk. Distinguishing features.
