Page 46 of Something like Desire

“A beach umbrella?”

“I guess it isn’t fair to keep you guessing,” he says with a laugh, “because it isn’t what you’d expect.” He grins. “A company that crafts clawfoot bathtubs.”

I laugh and shake my head. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have guessed that even if I guessed all day.”

“Sometimes print ads are about shock value,” Zach says, his eyes twinkling. “The beachgoers were definitely pretty damn surprised to see a luxury bathtub on the beach. Word spread, and there was double the crowd there is today.”

I look around and gesture at the almost-empty shoreline. “So, there was like... a handful of people then? I’ll never look at Venice Beach the same again. This place is so peaceful.”

We sit, watching the waves and the gulls in the sky, and I let the calmness settle over me. Hopefully I can channel this on Saturday because I have a feeling Gia’s wedding will be anything but calm. I feel Zach’s gaze on me and turn my head slightly to meet it.

“You’re really beautiful. You know that, Lexi?” he says. “And honestly, just sitting here beside you, even when we’re not talking at all? It feels like the most fun I’ve had in a long time. It’s amazing to me how well we just mesh.”

“I was thinking that too,” I say, feeling the heat rising up my neck at the thought of it. “We’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but it feels more like I’ve known you for years.”

Zach reaches for my hand, and the moment he touches me, it’s like everything else quiets. It feels almost as intimate as our time together in the forest. There’s no rush in it, no expectation, just a steady, quiet warmth. When he touches me, I feel like his body completely understands mine. I feel like he sees me.Trulysees me.

Zach clears his throat. “What happened with us the other day... it was a lot of fun.” He runs a hand through his beard and heat rushes from my stomach and up to my chest and face.

“It was,” I say softly.

“But I want you to know that the way I feel about you is so much more than that. I loved being with you in that way, but more than anything, I just feel so good when I’m around you.”

I inhale deeply, the salt air mixing with something softer. Maybe relief? He really does get me. It wasn’t my imagination. It’s almost like he knew what I was thinking at that moment. Forget being astrologically compatible, it’s more like we’re telepathic.

“Are you up to going to one more place?” Zach asks.

“Everywhere you take me is amazing, so I’m going to go with ‘yes,’” I answer with a grin.

“Good.” Zach winds his fingers through mine. “I think you’ll find it as inspiring as I do.”

We pull up in front of the property, and with its turrets, it reminds me of the castle in the window of Willow and Worn, only in this case “worn” is the key word. But that just makes it more fascinating. The stone turrets, their surfaces softened with lichen, rise above the house. Broken stained glass windows are positioned on either side of a huge wooden door that hangs slightly crooked. Vines climb the stone walls, and the roof sags in places, exposing the beams beneath. Moss carpets the steps. Some people might turn their noses up at how ancient and crumbling it is, but I fall for it instantly. It feels like an abandoned place with stories to tell.

“This place is incredible,” I say, stepping out of the car and turning to take everything in.

“I knew you’d love it here,” Zach says, his eyes twinkling, clearly proud of himself. “This is the place from the musical instrument shoot. I’ll show you where I took my photos.” We walk across the flagstone courtyard, weeds sprouting between the stones. He holds my hand as we walk through the overgrown grass toward a stone arch, covered in ivy. “This is where I photographed the two violinists,” Zach says. “They’re a real-life couple. They stood over there, playing their violins in the shadows, and the sun came through behind them.”

I close my eyes for a moment. “I can picture that exact shot in my head.”

“Come with me inside the house, I’ll show you where we took some other shots,” Zach says. We push open the huge door and step into the damp-smelling foyer. Faded tapestries decorate the walls and there’s a chandelier, its crystals dulled with dust, tilting precariously. Shafts of light shine in through the cracked roof.

We step into a vast empty space, large enough to hold a banquet, probably the location of any number of fancy parties in the past. Zach points to the center of the room. “That’s where we wheeled in the grand piano. We had a man wearing an old-fashioned suit and top hat playing there. There’s something about having him here, and not in a new building, that makes the campaign seem that much more special.”

“It emphasizes the way music is timeless.”

“I like that.” Zach’s face creases in appreciation, and then he smiles. “I have something else to show you.” He takes my hand, and we go back to his car, where he takes a wicker picnic basket out of his trunk and leads me to a patch of grass under a sycamore tree. He opens the basket and spreads out a blanket. He takes out a little cooler bag and spreads out some crackers and fruit and pours us each a glass of sparkling wine. “When I was here, I thought this place would be perfect for a picnic. What do you think?”

“I think it’s amazing,” I say.

We have an effortless conversation about our families, our childhoods, our goals. “I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a very long time,” Zach says, glancing at me. “My last relationship ended about a year ago. We got along well but our interests were very different. I love thatwecan sit together, doing anything, and still feel so connected.”

“I love that about us too,” I answer. The fact that he just brought up his last relationship has my heart thumping in my throat. This would be the perfect time to tell him about Jayden.

“Why did your last relationship end?” Zach asks, apparently reading my mind again.

I pick at the wicker basket and stare down at the picnic blanket. “We were together for a long time, and we fell into a routine.” I want to keep going. I want to say that it ended recently, but I have a feeling that would change what we have building between us and I don’t want to risk that. Ican’trisk that.

“The same kind of date night over and over again? Stuff like that?”