Still, I sit and watch for a moment, getting the nerve to walk up to a group of people where I don’t know anyone save for Slade.
Of the eight people sitting around the fire, there are an equal number of men and women. Some are sitting side by side, cuddled together, while others are standing with their hips swaying to the beat of music I can’t hear.
Then there’s Slade. He’s sitting on a towel in the sand, a beer bottle is knocked on its side next to him, and the glow of the fire illuminates his hair. His expression is stoic, reflective maybe, and there is a soft smile on his lips as he stares at the embers.
In that moment, I don’t know how I know that he’s going to be trouble for me, but I do. That disarming grin. That easy manner. The way he gets me to do things I’d never do like going to a bonfire on the beach the night before leaving for a trip.
And I’ve only known him a week.
I can do this. I can be lacy boy panties. I can . . . I can let whatever happens, happen.
With a deep breath, I slide out of my car, my toes digging into the sand and the soft breeze off the ocean hitting my cheeks as I approach the group.
I stand on the outskirts of their circle for a moment, not wanting to interrupt the story being told with wild gesticulations and animated expressions from the man still wearing his scrubs. But when Slade sees me, he rises from his seat in the sand, momentarily drawing the group’s attention to me.
“Hi.” I hold up my hand in an awkward wave and look toward Slade.
I swear my heart drops when he angles his smile my way. Dimples and warmth and excitement are etched in the lines of his face.
I’m too old for this. Too old to have this giddy feeling when a man looks at me. Too old to allow myself to be fooled by a nice smile with dimples. Too old to believe it’s a good idea to throw caution to the wind and let the cards fall where they may.
And yet . . .
“You came,” he says and pulls me into him in an unexpected hug. He smells of sunshine and beer and citrus, and I feel like an idiot for just wanting to stay there and breathe him in, but I do.
“Hi.”
The hug ends, but he keeps his hand on my lower back as he turns toward the group. “Blakely, meet everyone. Everyone, meet Blakely.” There is a chorus of greetings that has me waving awkwardly again, but I’m met with smiles and warmth. “Do you want something to drink?”
“I’m good.”
“You sure?” he asks as he takes my hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world and leads me over to where he was seated.
“Yes. Thank you though.”
He stretches out the towel and motions for me to sit as the guy who was telling his animated story continues on after my interruption. Slade settles beside me so we’re shoulder to shoulder, my body tensing as his breath hits my ear and he murmurs, “I’m glad you came.”
I ignore the chills that chase over my skin. It’s just the ocean breeze. Even I don’t buy my own lie.
“Thanks for inviting me.” I don’t turn to face him because, if I do, our faces would be inches from each other and too close to the kiss zone.
“We do this once a month—those of us who aren’t on call anyway. Just a little time to unwind and relax after all the stress of the job. It forces us to get together outside of the hospital.”
“Not a bad way to relax,” I say as laughter rumbles through the group.
“Nah. Not on nights as pretty as this it isn’t.” He leans back on his hands and looks up at the stars glimmering above before those eyes of his find mine again. “They’re all pretty chill. John, Prisha, and Leigh are residents with me. Jason and Carly are in pediatrics . . .” He goes through the list of everyone. “And I don’t expect you to remember any of that. In fact, it’s pretty lame I invited you down here to listen to John drone on, but I thought it might be a good way for you to see who I am so you aren’t worried that I’m a creep or some shit like that the whole trip.”
“I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t thought it a time or ten,” I tease as he mocks taking offense before hitting my shoulder with his. “And I appreciate that it crossed your mind long enough to call me and invite me to come hang out with your friends.”
The next hour is spent laughing at stories that are amusing to me but much funnier to those who understand the medical terminology being flung around like sight words in a kindergarten class. Slade leans in every few minutes to explain something when my expression clearly shows I don’t understand or to simply make sure I’m okay.
But I’m more than fine as I sit back and listen to people who clearly understand and care for each other. There is a camaraderie between them, and they’ve included me in it without question. It’s nice to sit out under the stars with someone who holds no expectations. When I was with Paul, every outing came with a critical eye over what I was wearing and worries about whether I would pass the test of looking like an executive’s wife. Then came the list of what topics were off-limits with his clients and how I had to pretend the mistress or wife who the client was with last time didn’t exist.
Too many things to keep straight. Too many lines I couldn’t cross. And yet this? Watching Slade toss a football in the moonlight with his
