LEVI

I lean back on the sand, elbows digging into the warm granules as I watch Rose and Tobias laughing in the surf, two-year-old Miles held between them, his giggles carrying over the waves. His brown hair sticks to his forehead, his chubby face lit with pure joy as he clutches Rose's hand, squealing when a wave rolls towards them.

I shake my head, smiling at the picture-perfect scene, and lift my beer to take a long, satisfying sip. But just as I do, Miles and Tobias turn in my direction, catching me mid-swig. I quickly tuck the bottle behind my back, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Tobias narrows his eyes, giving me an exaggerated glare from across the waves. "It's ten in the morning!" he calls out, his voice a mix of mock reprimand and humor as he wades toward me.

"Five o'clock somewhere," I reply, lifting my eyebrows as I grin back at him.

He rolls his eyes but can't quite hide his smirk. "You know, there are other ways to unwind in the morning," he says as he reaches the shore, dripping and shaking water out of his hair.

"Yeah, but none as fun," I retort, taking another, more defiant sip. Tobias just shakes his head, laughing, as he trudges back into the waves, waving me off. I lean back, letting the sun hit my face as I take another drink.

My eyes drift to the spot the woman had been yesterday but it was empty, gorgeous woman and umbrella missing.

• • •

I scoop Miles up, tossing him gently in the air just enough to make him squeal with laughter, his tiny hands grabbing at me like I'm his personal jungle gym. He clings to my shoulders, still giggling, and I can't help but grin. Little guy's got a laugh that makes you feel like you're doing something right just by being around him.

But even as I'm entertaining him, my eyes keep drifting back to that same spot.

Except this time, it's occupied. The woman from yesterday lazed under the umbrella and I scowl.

I missed it.

Somehow she'd figured out how to put the umbrella in without me and I wasn't sure I was entirely happy about that.

I lift Miles higher, and he lets out another delighted laugh, his chubby fingers smacking against my jaw as if he's trying to keep my attention. But even with this little guy demanding everything from me, my eyes keep slipping back to her—across the beach, just a few yards away, looking like she's cut from some untouchable, sunlit marble. The red-gold of her hair catches the light, and every time she moves, it shimmers like it's competing with the waves. She's stretched out on a towel, propped on her elbows, drink in hand. And I don't think she's even noticed me once.

Hell, I don't even know her name, but it's like she's got a magnet buried somewhere under that swimsuit, and I can't pull my gaze away.

Yesterday, she'd been struggling with an umbrella, the thing refusing to stick in the sand as she cursed under her breath. I'd watched her go at it for nearly ten minutes before finally giving in, walking over, and offering a hand. It was an excuse as much as it was genuine, but something about her sarcastic smile and the way she'd let me help—even if slightly reluctant—got to me.

I half-expected her to struggle with the damn thing again today. I figured I'd get another shot to walk over, make her laugh, maybe even ask her name. But this time, she's managed to get it up on her own, no problem. And now she's just lying there, drink in hand, looking like trouble wrapped in a bathing suit.

It's annoying, and a little ridiculous, how much I want that umbrella to topple.

A second excuse to break the ice. But here I am, holding a kid and trying not to look like an idiot as my eyes stray back to her for the tenth time in the last two minutes.

Miles reaches for my face, and I realize I've been zoning out. I swing him again, and he lets out another laugh, but even as he's clinging to me, I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing a chance here.

Finally, I give in to the impulse. I put Miles down on the sand, give him a gentle pat to encourage him back to Rose and Tobias, and dust the sand off my hands. Just casual enough to pretend this isn't a deliberate walk toward her.

As I close the distance, I watch her straighten up a little, that playful smile on her face as she takes another sip from the wine bottle, her eyes zero d in on me with a confident gaze.

It's the kind of confidence you can feel without even talking to her, like she owns the sand under her feet, owns the waves crashing behind her. A few steps closer, and her eyes flick to me, a flash of recognition there that makes her raise an eyebrow, her mouth curving in a slight, knowing smile.

"Couldn't keep away, huh?" she says, the hint of a challenge in her tone.

"Wanted to make sure you had that umbrella figured out," I reply, shoving my hands in my pockets. "But it seems you've mastered it without me this time."

"Maybe I don't need rescuing every time," she says, tilting her head, a hint of sarcasm laced in her voice.

"Noted." I can't help grinning back, a little thrown by the way she turns every word into something layered. I feel her looking at me, sizing me up just like I've been doing to her since she landed on this beach.

"So, does the beach hero have a name?" she asks, leaning back, her tone light and careless, but her eyes are sharp, seeing more than she lets on.

"Levi," I say, and extend a hand. She looks at it for a beat, then slips her smaller hand into mine.

Her touch is soft but steady, and something about it feels too good to be casual. There's a flicker of surprise in her gaze, but she keeps it hidden well, her smile lingering.

"River," she says, letting go of my hand and leaning back into her spot, drink back in hand.

"Nice to meet you, River." I take a step back, folding my arms, and let my eyes travel to the ocean behind her, as if I have some reason to stay planted here, as if I'm not here solely because she's caught my interest.

"Thanks for the help yesterday," she adds. "The umbrella, I mean. I was about ready to start cursing at it in three different languages."

I chuckle. "I figured that's where you were heading. Couldn't resist stepping in."

"Oh, I'm sure," she says, rolling her eyes but smiling, glancing up at me again. "I bet you live for these damsel-in-distress scenarios."

"Only when they make for good company afterward." The words come out smooth, a little too quick, and I feel that shift between us, that flicker of heat as she glances up at me through those lashes, her lips curving just enough.

She doesn't respond, just takes another sip of her drink, her eyes watching me over the rim. And for a second, I imagine what it would be like to just sit down, lean into this sharp, magnetic pull of hers and kiss her.

I rear back at the vivid imagery, trying to think of anything else so I don't get a fucking hard on right here in the middle of the beach.