The last group was ten-year-old James Stone. He was Jason and Jess Stone’s son. They also had a daughter, who was eight, and, well . . . they were going to have their hands full with her. That was all I was saying. Juliette Stone was a rounder. She kept the terrible six on their toes, and that’s saying something.
Saffron and Holland Corbin were the last two kids in this craziness of reproduction. They were identical twins, but they were complete opposites. Saffron did everything she could to get attention, while Holland was normally in a corner with a book. For ten-year-olds, I liked them well enough. I used to say their parents were the only sane ones in the lot. They had twins and stopped. But today the big news was that Krit and Blythe were expecting a baby by Christmas.
Now that I knew what sex was, I was horrified every time another one of the adults told us they were pregnant. Did they just, like, have sex a lot, or was this an accident? Did they plan it? Ugh! I didn’t want to think about it. I was just glad my parents seemed to be done with their four. After having three boys in a row, I think my mom was too nervous to try again. She wasn’t getting another one like me. I’d told her that, and she had laughed at me. Then she’d said I was more like my father than I thought I was. I didn’t mind being like my dad. I looked just like my mom, or so my uncle Jeremy says every time he sees me: “Spitting image of you, I swear, Eva.”
That makes me smile because my mother is beautiful.
“Hey,” a deep voice says, and I jerk my gaze off the waves crashing on the shore and look up into the sun. There is definitely a male there, but I don’t recognize him. Shading my eyes, I see he is not only a guy, but he is rather remarkably gorgeous. He looks a little older than me. Maybe fifteen or sixteen.
“Uh, hey,” I reply, not sure what to do about this. I know everyone in Sea Breeze around my age. I feel like I’m related to most of them.
The guy sat down beside me, but instead of doing it in an awkward way like most people, he made it look cool. He was also wearing jeans on the beach. Granted, it was fall and the breeze was cool, but still. I didn’t look long at his black combat boots, which were super awesome.
“You live around here?” he asked, leaning back on one arm and turning toward me. He appeared so casual and sure of himself. He had to be a lot older than me. Eli could never pull that off and appear that badass.
“Yeah, my whole life. Well, not all of it. I lived the first years on a farm about thirty miles from here. But Dad got the baseball coaching job at the college, and we moved here to be closer. Plus, most of my family is here.” I was just sharing my life with this guy. He had asked if I lived here, not for my life story. My face felt hot, and I looked away from him, praying he’d just leave. But he didn’t laugh at my silliness.
“I’m visiting. My grandpop lives here now. Moved here about six years ago and opened up a restaurant.”
I turned back to look at him, and the color of his silver eyes was rattling. A girl could only handle so much. Eyes like that needed a warning with them: Be careful of insanely hot eyes.
A smirk tugged up the corner of his lips, and I realized those lips were just as impressive as his eyes. “Reason why you’re out here mumbling to yourself?” he asked.
Once again my face flamed red and I looked away from him. This time he did chuckle. I wanted to bury my head in the sand and wait for him to leave the crazy girl on the beach alone.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. You’re just really cute. With the blushing stuff.”
Oh God, he called me cute. This gorgeous boy who was way too old for me thought I was cute. Breathe, Bliss. Breathe. You will pass out if you don’t breathe.
“You got a name?” he asked me.
I straightened my shoulders and tried not to look like the idiot I had been acting like so far. “Bliss York,” I informed him like I was filling out some form. All businesslike.
His smirk turned into a grin. The way his eyes sparkled that silver color when he was amused made that breathing thing I was trying to do hard.
“How old are you?” he asked, studying me closely.
He probably thought I was one of the silly ten-year-olds. I was positive even Holland could have handled this better than me, and she rarely talked to anyone.
“Thirteen,” I said, waiting for him not to believe me.
He nodded as if that was what he had thought.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Fourteen,” he replied.
My mouth fell open. This guy with all his coolness was just fourteen?
He acted so much older. Eli was thirteen, like me, and he was so not this mature. He was also easier to be around because, although Eli had really nice blond hair and pretty green eyes, he was just Eli.
“You look surprised,” he said with a smile. “Do I not look fourteen to you?”
I swallowed and tried to breathe again. When this guy’s eyes were on you, then you forgot how to talk or do pretty much anything. “I, uh, yes, I mean no, I mean . . . You just look older than that. And you act older. I didn’t think . . . I thought . . . Never mind.” I stopped my ramblings and once again thought of burying my head in the sand.
I really needed to give myself a break. There were not any guys around here who looked like him. Any girl faced with this kind of . . . of . . . perfection would also freak out. His dark hair was cut short, but there was a messy thing he had going with the top that seemed to be a little longer.
He laughed again and I dropped my eyes to the sand.
“Ah, come on, Bliss York. Look at me again. I didn’t mean to laugh, but you make me. I can’t help it.”
“Well, you make me nervous,” I blurted out.
“I do? Why?”
I was not telling this beautiful boy that he was beautiful. So I just shrugged.
“Bliss!” Eli’s voice called out, and I turned to look toward the Falcos’ to see Eli waving at me to come back. I stood up quickly and glanced back at the guy, who also stood up, but he did it smoothly, without the clumsiness of my attempt to scramble up. The last thing I needed was Eli telling my dad I was talking to a boy.
Daddy would lose his mind.
“That your boyfriend?” the guy asked, and I laughed this time.
“Eli? Uh, no. He’s like my brother. . . . No, my brothers drive me nuts. He’s more like my cousin. Or best friend. Our parents are close.”
The guy’s mouth curled into a pleased smile that made my knees weak. I had to walk back to the Falcos’ and Eli. I didn’t know how I was going to do that if Mr. Gorgeous kept smiling at me.
“I gotta go,” I told him.
“If you’re sure,” he replied.
I was positive. This guy was the epitome of cool, but he had not met Cage York yet. And he didn’t want to. “I, uh, yeah. My parents are probably looking for me.”
He smirked. “Okay. Maybe I’ll see you again, Bliss York.”
It hit me then that I had no idea what his name was. He’d had me in such a scrambled mess with that face of his that I’d never asked.
“Yeah, maybe. You never told me your name.”
That sexy grin was back, and he glanced out at the waves, then back at me. He tilted his head in that way guys in the movies do and you swoon. He had it nailed, and I was so about to seriously swoon.
“Nate Finlay.”