Marshall cocked his head, moved closer. “What?”
She tilted her chin upward—he had to be nearing six feet tall to her five five—licked her lips, and tried again. “My name is Shannon.”
“That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
She blinked, stepped back, shook herself from the trance. Because guys just didn’t say things like that.
Well, they said them to her sister Quinn all the time.
But not to Shannon.
Clearly he was just an outrageous flirt.
His eyebrows scrunched together and he massaged the back of his neck. “Sorry, I really never say things like that. But today, I’m . . . not quite myself.”
Oh.
Before Shannon could respond, Noah bounded back over, huffing, while a dejected Lucky followed. “Miss Shannon, can we try throwing again?”
“Of course, bud. I’ll try to do better this time.”
They spread out once more, forming a triangle. But it didn’t matter how much she wanted to catch the ball—it slipped through her fingers every time. No wonder she’d nearly failed PE in high school.
Marshall jogged over. “I don’t want to interfere, but would you like some pointers?”
“Yes, please.”
And for the next fifteen minutes, he showed her the best way to position her hands to catch a ball above her waist and below it. She mixed them up several times, but then, miracle of miracles, she caught one.
Squealing, she held it up in triumph, and both Marshall and Noah ran toward her, whooping and celebrating with her. Noah threw his arms around her waist, and she caught Marshall’s eye over his head. She mouth Thank you, and he just grinned in reply.
As soon as Noah let go, turning to run through the waves with Lucky once more, Marshall approached, holding up his hand for a high five. “Nice work.”
“Thanks.” She slapped his palm, and his fingers curled around hers for a moment longer than necessary.
A lump caught in her throat at the feel of her small hand in his larger one. When he dropped it, the tingle of his touch remained.
“I couldn’t have done it without my awesome coach.” Her lips tipped into a grin that grew serious far too quickly. “But really, thank you. You sure made a little boy’s day. He hasn’t had too many great ones lately and . . .” She sucked a breath between her teeth. Sudden exhaustion overtook her bones, and, frowning, Shannon sat down.
Marshall joined her, his strong forearms wrapped around his knees. “He’s a great kid. And he clearly is enamored with you.”
She ran her finger through the sand, at first drawing simple lines, then arcing out into a small picture. A house. A sun. “He doesn’t know any better.” Her attempt at a joke fell flat, as evidenced by Marshall’s silence. Clearing her throat, she continued with the design.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how do you know him?”
“I was his preschool teacher for two years. His grandma has had custody of him for a little longer than that, ever since his mom left to pursue an acting career in Los Angeles.”
And then, as if she’d known this man forever, Shannon told him about her relationship with Noah, about Mary’s mental decline, about how the final straw was her leaving Noah at the mall six weeks ago because she’d forgotten he was with her. “Social services removed him from the home, and Mary moved into a memory care facility. He’s been with his neighbor ever since, but she and her family are moving out of state soon.”
“So you’re going to adopt him?”
“That’s the plan. I was hoping I could get foster certification fast tracked since I already have fingerprint clearance and a background check due to my job. But there’s just so much left in the process—an interview, adoption and fostering classes, psychiatric evaluation, home inspection—and each step takes time.” Shannon added a woman to her sand picture. “So for a while, he’ll have to live with someone else.”
Marshall turned his face toward her, using his hand to block the sun that had slowly moved a bit farther westward. Whoa. It must be about two in the afternoon. How had three hours gone by so quickly? “Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s awesome. I’m just wondering why you’re the one adopting him.”
“If not me, then who?” She shrugged. “His social worker hasn’t been able to get ahold of his mom, and he doesn’t have any other family willing to take him. Walker Beach is an amazing community, but it’s small. I’m afraid he’d eventually be sent to a town with more foster home options. But he should be able to stay near his grandma, the only family he has.”
Shannon finished off her picture with a little boy holding hands with the woman. “Besides, I can’t help but love him. And really, all you need is love to make a thing work, right?” Love—and a good dose of humility.
“Hmmm.” A pause. “Hey, you’re an artist.”
She glanced up to find his eyes studying her silly picture. “Oh, that’s . . . no. It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.” He leaned in just a touch. “And neither are you.”
If Shannon was made of ice, she’d be a puddle on the ground by now.
Sheesh. She needed to get control of her seesawing emotions. This was so silly. Marshall didn’t know her. She didn’t know him.
So how had his words stroked a hurting place in her heart that few even knew existed?
Shannon dusted off her hands and stood. “I had a really nice time with you, but I need to get Noah home.”
Marshall pushed himself off the ground, then checked his watch. “Wow, it’s later than I thought. I’d better get going as well.”
They both stood there for a moment, looking at each other, the moment holding, suspended in time.
What was happening? Surely she was imagining this connection between them.
Shannon pulled her gaze from his. “Noah! Lucky! Time to go.”
“Aw, man!” But despite his protest, the boy dragged his feet, hanging onto Lucky’s collar as he trudged toward her.
She turned back to Marshall. “Thank you
