“You drove an old Neon?”
“I did,” I say proudly. “Peggy Sue was my pride and joy.”
“Seriously? You named your car?” He masks a grin behind his narrow gaze.
“Well, sure—I thought everyone named their cars,” I shrug. “Don’t you?”
“No,” he snorts. I slowly feel myself blushing in embarrassment. “But I think it’s cute that you do.” His mouth turns into a slight grin.
Holy hell, I feel my insides lighting up like Christmas.
Shortly afterwards, we come across another sculpture—a ‘cricket’ that looks like it’s made out of an old WWII fighter plane.
“It’s astounding how they can create something brand new with old junk.” I sigh in wonderment.
“I know. It’s remarkable.” Drew is wide-eyed as he nods in agreement.
We soon encounter two junk sculptures of men—one skiing, while the other one snowboards.
The display that seemed to impress Drew the most is the bug and giraffe. Personally, I’m more partial to the caterpillar. Regardless, I’m beyond impressed that such intricate detail went into each and every sculpture on display.
Almost at the end of our stroll down the entire exhibit, Drew retrieves his phone from his tan jacket pocket. He glances down at the screen.
“I think this is for you.” He hands his phone over to me.
“It’s Blair, of course,” I chuckle before answering. “Hey.”
“Hi,” she responds. Her tone sounds a little disheartened. My skin tingles in alarm
“What’s wrong?” I hope she’s not calling to cancel our beach trip. That would really suck.
“Just as I suspected, Mom is guilt tripping me into staying another five days in Bend with her. I’m planning on changing my flight, so I hope that’s okay with you.”
I’m flustered. This is beyond inconvenient. I’m going through all this trouble to get to Carmel-by-the-Sea, and she’s not going to be there for at least five more days. Maybe I should just call Dad and tell him that I royally fucked up. He’ll send me a plane ticket, and I’ll head back to Portland.
“I should just head back home, then,” I concede.
“How far are you?”
“About four hundred miles away.”
“Girl—no!” Blair says. “Just head on over to the beach house and help yourself to everything that’s there. There’s tons of food and shit there. Dad had the housekeeper come by yesterday to clean and stock up. Go chillax on the beach. You deserve it. I’ll join you in a few days.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely. Without question. I want you to enjoy the beach and sun enough for the both of us these next five days, and we’ll keep it going when I get there. Hey, if you’re lucky, maybe a certain hottie will stay there with you and keep you company until I arrive.”
I roll my eyes. “Not happening. I told you why.”
“Never say never, Q,” she sings.
“Well, I’m saying it. Never.”
“You can’t tell me you’re not the least bit interested in him. You know he’s about ten years older than we are, right?”
I turn to the left and quickly glance at Drew’s profile before turning back to the right. “No way!”
There is no way he’s over thirty. No fucking way. Although he looks like he’s twenty-four or twenty-five, you have to figure he’s at most twenty-seven if you factor in that he’s a self-made billionaire.
Shit—he did mention running his company for over ten years, I quickly remind myself. The math says he’s well over thirty, unless he started his company while he was in high school. Yeah, he’s way too old for me. Granted, I have no issues with getting involved with a much older man. But what would a grown ass, successful man like Drew O’Brien want with a twenty-two-year-old girl who just graduated college? I’m sure he thinks I’m so young and dumb, being that I couldn’t give him a clear answer on what I planned on doing with my life.
Wait a minute, I’ve sworn off all men. Why am I even trying to rationalize us even being a thing in the first place? Wake the hell up, Waverly.
“Yep,” Blair says proudly. “And you figure that a thirty-year-old can screw way better than a twenty-two-year-old.”
“Shut up,” I growl. “Not happening.”
Blair sighs. “Boo—you are such a buzz kill. Fine, then. Just let me know when you make it to the house.”
“I will.” I hang up.
Too nervous to look Drew in his face, I blindly hand the phone back to him.
“Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine. Blair will arrive at the beach five days after me.”
I sigh, secretly grateful to have something else to sulk about. The last thing I want to do is come clean about my disappointment over our huge age difference. He obviously knows how old I am since he’s aware that I just graduated from U of O.
Drew frowns at me as if displeased. “Are you going to be staying there all alone?”
“It’s a private, secure beach in a gated community. I’ll be fine.”
His expression tells me that he’s not convinced.
Geez, it’s like I’m dealing with my father. Granted, a much younger…way hotter version of him. As we exit the exhibit, Drew slows his stroll when we approach an empty park bench.
“You want to sit and watch the sunset?” he suggests.
I turn and suddenly realize the striking orange horizon straight ahead. “Oh yeah, it’s right here,” I sigh in wonderment. “How cool is that?” Awestruck, I lower myself onto the bench without looking, and he sits right beside me. Our legs touch, and I have to take several deep breaths just to settle my insides.
“Sometimes, you have to stop what you’re doing and focus on the wonder that’s right in front of you.”
His words confound me as I admire his profile. He shifts from the horizon to me, and we instantly lock eyes. My heart races.
Nervous, I quickly turn away and look toward the setting sun. Gradually, a group of three different families gather nearby to admire the same breathtaking view.
“What a lovely evening,” I muse while briskly rubbing my hands against my naked arms. The chill bumps are so pronounced, it feels like I’m reading Braille. I wish I brought the cardigan that I left back at the car.
Drew suddenly shifts, and I see him remove his jacket.
“No, you don’t have to,” I begin in protest, but he ignores me.
He drapes his warm jacket across my arms and fixes it over my shoulders. The smell of it just under my nose nearly takes my breath away. I never thought I could get horny from just an aroma. The scent of his jacket is the sexiest male pheromone ever secreted.
How am I supposed to control myself?
How I manage to keep his jacket on my shoulders and not hump him is beyond me.
“I hope you packed a jacket in your bag,” he murmurs. “If not, we can stop and get you one.”
“I have one,” I respond. “I just didn’t think it would get so chilly here right when the sun goes down.
“It’s par for the course in Northern California, I’m afraid.” He stresses the ‘northern’ part deliberately.