Page 10 of Bad Decisions

She chuckles. “That’s why I’m in the profession I am. I love the human form. Muscle groups are my jam.”

A grin splits my cheeks. “I like your tiny human form too,” I joke with a wink.

This woman really is something else. Witty, interesting, and sexy as hell.

She rolls her eyes before perching on the edge of a barstool at the kitchen counter. Her black jeans look as though they’ve been sprayed on, in contrast to the thick cream sweater swamping her figure.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, taking a glass from a high kitchen cupboard. Personally, I’m ravenous, and it’s not for food. I’m like a teenage boy on a first date, which is probably due to a lack of practice. It’s been a long time since I dated.

But seriously, I need to get a grip because while I want to take our friendship to the next level, I’m not a hundred percent sure Jewel is on board. Or that doing anything now, while she’s still grieving her father, would be a selfish dick move.

Her brow lifts. “Sure, what have you got to eat?” she asks, and again, her cheeky smile tells me she’s picked up on the innuendo. It’s not making it easy to do the right thing.

Walking to the fridge to fill my glass with iced water, I list off, “Bagels, bacon, salmon, eggs, avocado, and cheese. You name it, and I probably have it. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I bought a bit of everything.”

On my way back to the beach house yesterday, I took a detour to one of the artisan food stores on Main Street to stock up on some tasty treats. I don’t remember ever going to this much trouble to impress a woman in the past, even the few who could have been considered girlfriends.

She laughs. “That does sound like a lot, and I like it all. Umm … maybe salmon and avocado on a bagel?”

“Done. Now, if you could toast the bagels, I’ll get the fillings ready.” I pull the toaster from a kitchen drawer, place it on the counter, then walk into the pantry to grab the bag of bagels. Returning, I say, “Hey, catch.” When Jewel spins my way, I toss the bag to her. She catches it easily.

“Lucky I have quick hands,” she says. A laugh trickles out of her pretty pink lips like honey, and it’s adorable. She really should laugh more, and I make it my mission for today.

“Small safe hands,” I joke, and it earns me a tea towel in the back of the head where I’m standing at the fridge. “Hey!”

“Stop being sizeist,” she complains, but her eyes are dancing with amusement.

A laugh erupts from my lungs as I pull food from the double-door fridge and place it on the granite island that could comfortably seat eight along its length.

Working together, we soon have our bagels ready. Avocado, cream cheese, and salmon oozing from the sides. “Would you like to eat on the deck? There’s a large daybed, and I can grab us some blankets.”

“Sure. You may have noticed I love the beach first thing in the morning before the walkers come out,” she says, and it hits me how easy it is to just be with her. We’re in sync in so many ways.

We walk out onto the deck, carrying our plates and steamy mugs of hot chocolate topped with little white marshmallows. The sun has fully risen above the horizon, turning the smudge of clouds shades of violet, pink, and orange and casting a shaft of gold across the reflective ocean.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she says, staring out at nature’s morning light display.

“Absolutely,” I agree, as my view includes the gorgeous woman in front of me. She turns, catching me, and smiles, a blush touching her cheeks.

We settle back on the daybed beside each other, then spread one of the thick, woolly blankets over our legs. I could get used to this, but unfortunately, in less than a week, I’ll have to leave.

Wondering how much time we have left together, I ask, “How long before you’ll be returning to Brooklyn?”

A tiny crease forms between her brows. “Another couple of weeks, I think. My boss has been really good at giving me as much time off as I need, but I want to get back to my clients. And you?”

“Five days before I need to be getting to DC. I want a couple of days free to find an apartment before I have to start work.”

She nods, looking down at the food on her plate so I can’t catch her reaction this time.

While we eat our bagels, she talks about growing up in Southampton and how winter was always her favorite time of the year, as it was just the locals. Then, when we’ve finished eating and the sun has risen higher in the now pale blue sky, I ask, “Would you like me to show you around?”

“Yes, please. Seeing these houses growing up, I always wondered what they were like inside.”

We return to the kitchen, then work around each other to fill the dishwasher. When everything is showroom-spotless again, I turn and take her hand. “Let’s start the tour upstairs.” Her fingers link with my larger, longer ones, locking together again as I lead her up the wide staircase that runs off the entry. I take her from room to room along the hallway.

At the final one, my bedroom, I open the door and stand back to let her pass. Her scent swirls around me, and I breathe in a lungful.

Is it her shampoo or her body wash that smells of summer? Whatever it is, it’s intoxicating on her skin.