I giggle as I turn off my phone. She’s going to kill me for that last line when she finds out I was screwing with her. She’s constantly trying to set me up with some of her guy friends. Brad, in particular, has been the most tenacious in asking. He probably just feels sorry for me since I never go out. However, he does nothing for me. He never has.
I want that inexplicable connection I’ve read about—the feeling that consumes my heart, searing the love in forever. Anything less just seems like a waste since I would be giving a piece of myself to someone forever.
I decide to call it a night, and I settle into my room. The crashing waves against the beach lull me into a peaceful deep sleep.
Squinting from the early morning light coming through my balcony doors, I throw off the covers, ready to embark on my day.
As I sit on the balcony, letting the sun penetrate my pores, I think about one of the last meaningful conversations my mom and I had when I was at home during spring break of my sophomore year. That was the last time I saw my parents before their accident.
In our small farmhouse kitchen, my mom and I are making breakfast before my dad comes in from his early morning chores. The smell of eggs and bacon cooking on the stove fill the house. I look at my mom, wearing a blue plaid apron as she walks around the kitchen, and I think about how much I treasure these moments because it’s when we truly talk.
“Mom, do you think it’s weird that I haven’t really started dating yet? I keep thinking there’s something wrong with me.”
She opens the oven and checks on the biscuits. “Sweetie, nothing is wrong with you. You’re like me. I never dated anyone prior to your dad.”
“How will I know when I’ve found the one?” I come up beside her as I get glasses out of the cabinet.
She pulls the food off the stove, and then she turns to me, giving me her full attention. She does this when she wants to tell me something important. “How do you know when the peaches from the tree out back are ready to be eaten?”
My brows scrunch together. What in the world do peaches have to do with anything? “Um . . . the color, smell, feel . . . and the stem gets a little loose, making it easy to pull it from the tree. I don’t know. I just know when it’s right.”
“Same thing will happen when you meet the right one. Your instincts will take over, and you’ll know. Just follow your heart, sweetie. It’ll never lead you astray. You just haven’t found the one yet. Be patient.” She gives me a hug just as my dad walks in from outside.
Those morning chats are now so precious to me.
After finishing breakfast, I go to change into an ivory one-piece swimsuit with a matching sarong wrap trimmed in black. Looking in the mirror, I critique my appearance. I am average-looking with blue-green eyes, slightly tanned skin, and dirty-blonde hair that reaches the middle of my back. At five foot six inches, I’m neither tall nor short, and from my days on the farm, I suppose I am toned. I put my hair up into a French twist, grab my things, and then head downstairs for some pre-lunch sun-soaking.
The large rectangular pool is surrounded by blue-and-white mesh lounge chairs with matching umbrellas. I walk over to some empty lounge chairs sitting next to a few palm trees in the corner, and I settle in. I crack open my latest mystery novel, and I begin to get lost in the book. Every once in a while, I get a whiff of someone’s suntan oil, giving off that perfect beach aroma. The warmth from the sun causes my eyes to close slowly.
Screech.
I stir.
Screech.
Metal being dragged across the concrete is making an awful racket, like nails scratching on a chalkboard. I look over to see who in the world is creating that noise, and I see a guy pulling over a chair, making himself at home right next to me. Damn, I wish he had picked one of the other many chairs available. I notice he has a nice toned body. Sam would push me to talk to him, but it’s the same as always. Something is just lacking.
He lifts up his sunglasses, and I keep mine in place.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he says.
“I was just dozing in and out.” Immediately, I pick up my book as I try to send the not-interested vibe, but he doesn’t get the message.
“Can I get you a drink from the bar?” He steeples his fingers under his chin as he looks me over.
Cocky bastard. Indifferently, I respond, “No, thanks.”
“Are you here on business or pleasure?”
This guy is not taking the hint. I hate to be bitchy, but I just want to be left alone. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I came down here for some alone time.” Being blunt isn’t normally my style.
He sighs, getting the message, and heads to the water.
Good.
After I go for a dip in the pool and have a quick bite to eat, the area is exploding with people. I head toward my room to take a relaxing bubble bath. As I near the bar area, I see a waiter wiping off a vacated table.
“Excuse me. What time does the sun set here?”