Sweet Distraction ✔︎

[9] 𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒇𝒇

A cold wind swept in from the ocean. Evan watched Isabelle take a picture of an old-fashioned Love Tester machine. The sleeve of her sweater had ridden up her arm, revealing the goose bumps prickling her tanned skin. Was she that same golden-brown tone all over? She'd taste like warm things-honey and spice cake, apple crisp, cinnamon.

She turned, focusing her camera on sights he wouldn't have thought were photogenic-a creepy jester on the side of a game booth, a crumpled funnel cake wrapper, a few pigeons flocking around a bench.

Curious girl. A wanderlust photographer who found beauty in strange places other people wouldn't think to look. What other secrets did she have? She was like a present wrapped in bright shiny paper that he couldn't wait to tear open.

When she lowered her camera, Evan shrugged out of his jacket and put it around her shoulders. She slipped her arms into it without hesitation, as if it were natural for him to give her his jacket, as if she'd expected he would do no less.

"You ready to head home?" he asked.

"Just about." She put the camera back into her bag and zipped up the jacket, murmuring a noise of pleasure that went straight to his blood.

He gathered the length of her hair in his hand and tugged it free from the collar, barely restraining himself from running his fingers through the thick strands. His fingertips brushed her warm neck. His teeth clenched with the urge to slide them lower, to trace the elegant ridge of her spine and follow the path with his mouth.

She stood very still, her back to him. Evan pulled his hand away from her, forcing a casual note into his voice.

"Any other rides before we leave?" he asked.

"No, I'm good."

She hitched her bag over her shoulder. Even in the multicolored lights of the boardwalk, a visible flush colored her cheeks. Blushing was, he'd noticed, the most telling sign of her emotions.

He kept a distance between them as they walked to the parking lot. His want for her was like a rubber band stretching tighter by the second. One day soon it would snap, but before that happened he had to tell her the truth.

As a child, he hadn't been able to hide his heart defect, but it became easier to do when he was older. His childhood surgeries had repaired the problems well enough that he was able to live a relatively normal life.

Of course there was no hiding the scar on his chest when he took his shirt off, which meant he'd always been upfront with his girlfriends about his condition. He'd never balked at the confession either-sometimes they'd already known about it, but if they hadn't, he'd just told them the straight truth and answered whatever questions they had. A simple enough way of dealing with a complex issue.

But Isabelle was different. He trusted her not to cut him off-though a couple of women had in the past, he wouldn't believe Isabelle capable of that-but he didn't want his damned heart to get in the way. He didn't want to think about his upcoming surgery. If he was lucky, he'd have a short time with her. He didn't want her to look at him differently.

"I was in Paris when they had the Ferris wheel on the Place de la Concorde." Isabelle paused by his SUV to look at the Ferris wheel lit against the dark sky. "It was amazing to see Paris all stretched out below like a magic carpet."