As the Dawn Breaks (5 page)

“Now that’s how to start a date,” Leo teases once we’re both able to breathe normally again.

“Too bad we’re not on a date,” I playfully quip back.

“Tell yourself whatever’ll make you feel better, Miss Trystan, but we’re
definitely
on a date.” I feel his stare on me, his eyes roaming up and down my body, and as much as I want to look over at him, I continue to keep my gaze on the road.

I’m not quite sure how to respond, so I don’t. Instead, I begin to tell him what I have in store for him during my day as his tour guide—emphasis on
tour guide.
“I’m not sure how many days you’ve been in town, but I’m assuming you’ve done the beach thing out in front of your resort and the fancy dining in the restaurants around there, so I’m taking you somewhere a little off the beaten path, a place that’s a bit more calm and relaxing.”

“That’s perfect. Not only have I been confined to the area around the Acqualina the past few days, I actually live in an ocean-side resort village not too different than this. Don’t get me wrong; I realize I’m lucky as hell to wake up in a tropical paradise every morning, but a change of pace is not only welcome, but needed,” he explains.

He hasn’t taken his focus off of me, and I finally give in to the urge to look over at him. The second my eyes catch his, the same quivering feeling in my abdomen returns from the night before and I internally curse myself.
Damn it, Trys. Stop overthinking this. You’re never gonna see this guy after today; not to mention, you’re pregnant with someone else’s baby.

“Where are you from?” I ask, turning into the parking lot of Epicure Market and Grill.

He hesitates a moment before answering, almost as if he’s contemplating telling me the truth. “I was born in Italy, but my mom and I immigrated to the states when I was two. I grew up in Jersey until I moved to the city in my twenties. I recently relocated to a small island in the Adriatic Sea.”

“Wow, the Adriatic Sea? That’s impressive. I’ve never lived outside the state of Florida.”

After I park the car, we both climb out and make our way towards the entrance. I notice him eyeing the outdoor market inquisitively, and I realize he must think this is where I’m taking him for our excursion. Not that Epicure isn’t absolutely incredible—I could spend hours upon hours here—but it’s not necessarily a place I would bring an out-of-town visitor for a fun day out.

“We’re going to have a light breakfast at the restaurant inside here, and then grab some drinks and snacks for our real destination,” I clarify.

He nods with a smile and reaches for my hand. “I’m going wherever you take me today, Miss Trystan.”

My initial reaction to his fingers interlaced with mine is to pull them away, but I don’t want to be rude, and I mean, look at the guy. Plus, I’m genuinely surprised with how nice it feels. Nice…and natural. Brandt was never a big fan of PDA when we were together, so it was rare that he held my hand in public. I’m shocked Leo wants to walk around like this in front of other people, particularly with my expectant state. Surely he realizes people will assume he’s the father.

“Why do you call me Miss Trystan?” I ask softly.

“I’m not sure. I guess it’s just an old habit I’m not even conscious of. I can stop if it bothers you.”

“Not a bother, I was just curious. By the way, most of my friends and family call me Trys,” I explain, giving his hand a light squeeze.

We briefly pause our conversation to be seated by the hostess, and once we’re settled, I continue my earlier thought. “As I was saying, most people call me Trys, which I guess is a bit more feminine than Trystan, but use whichever you prefer.”

“I like the name Trystan. It’s different, like you.” He smiles brightly at me.

“You don’t know anything about me. I could be the most boring person in the world,” I say jokingly.

“I assure you that you aren’t. Unfortunately, I sat next to him on my lengthy flight here.”

We both chuckle until the server stops at the table for our food and drink order, and then a comfortable silence settles over us. Seated directly across the table from one another, this is the first chance I’ve had to
really
study him. His Italian heritage is evident with his short, chocolate brown hair, caramel-colored eyes, and natural olive complexion. He’s got to be at least six-foot-three with a sinewy frame, and he wears a five o’clock shadow like nobody’s business.

Anxious to learn more about this incredibly sweet, and even better looking stranger, I begin by saying, “Tell me about yourself, Leo. What’s your family like? What do you like to do?”

Over the rest of breakfast, which I inhale like most other meals these days, we sit peppering questions back and forth until we each have a pretty good basic background on the other. I learn he’s thirty-three, an only child, most definitely a momma’s boy, and loves to cook. In return, he discovers I’m older than he originally thought, learns about my sister and her entire family, and thinks I’m strange because my favorite color is yellow. He tells me all girls like pink or purple, so I teasingly add male chauvinist to his list.

Before I know it, he’s paid the bill, we’ve gathered snacks and beverages in the market area, and we’re back on the road, on our way to Oleta River State Park. The Mophonics are belting out
Happiness is Calling
on the radio, warm rays are shining down through the sunroof, my belly is full of good food, and I’ve got a sexy ass guy to spend the day with. I feel absolutely wonderful.

The drive from Epicure to the park is less than two miles; however, in that short distance, it’s almost as if we’re leaving one world and entering a completely different one. Passing through the gates of Oleta River, a sense of serenity sweeps over me as the peaceful world of tangled, tropical vegetation fills the landscape. As we slowly travel deeper into the park, leaving behind the high-rise condos,
S
-class Mercedes’, and silicone-filled body parts, I roll down the windows and let the refreshing sea breeze tunnel through the car to caress my skin and blow through my hair.

“This place is really tranquil,” Leo remarks, taking in the scenery as I park the car.

“It’s one of my favorite places to escape to, but I haven’t been in a while.” I pause to climb out of the car and grab my beach bag from the backseat. “There are some amazing trails here for mountain biking and hiking, and they have a place where you can rent canoes, kayaks, and paddleboats right over there,” I continue, nodding my head in the direction of the Blue Moon Outdoor Center. “I thought we could chill out on the beach for a little bit, and then see where the mood takes us. I’m afraid I won’t be doing any strenuous hiking or mountain biking today, though.”

Nodding with an understanding smile, he takes the bag from my hands, as well as grabs the sacks of groceries from the trunk. “Whatever makes you happy; I’m just along for the ride and the company.”

Ambling down one of dirt trails, we alternate pointing out different birds, butterflies, and flamboyantly bright-colored flowers. I feel bad he’s carrying everything, but he refuses to let me help. It doesn’t take us too long, even with my slight waddle, to make our way around the curving peninsula to the nearly isolated beach area. I stop to slide my flip-flops off just before I step onto the warm sand. The miniscule granules squish between my toes and I shut my eyes, allowing the reminiscences of childhood family vacations to flood my memory.

“You’re glowing,” Leo whispers softly into my ear.

My lids remain closed as I smile and inhale deeply, tasting the salty air laced with hints of citrus and sandalwood from his cologne. “Pregnant women do that, or so I hear,” I joke back as I open my eyes.

“It’s not just that,” he replies. “This is your element; it’s where you belong.”

“I hope so. It’s why I’m here.”

Shuffling my feet through the fine powder, I lead him down close to the shoreline, where we spread out the oversized blanket and unpack the bags. Once everything is set up, we stand grinning at each other like two fools, each waiting for the other to make the next move.

“If you feel more comfortable leaving your dress on, I’ll keep my shirt on too. I’m just warning you, though; I may get overheated and pass out.”

The mischievous glimmer in his eyes speaks volumes, and I—never being one to back down from a challenge—immediately slide the straps of my dress off my shoulders, studying his face as the fabric falls to the ground. Unsure of what to expect with him, since pretty much everything he’s said and done thus far contradicts what I consider to be the norm for guys, I wait for him to say something. However, instead of using words, he speaks with actions. Quirking his brow up as to ask for permission, I nod in response, knowing exactly what he wants to do. He closes the gap between us and lifts his large hands up, splaying them across my belly. Lightly, his thumbs stroke back and forth, caressing the stretched skin, our gazes locked on where our bodies meet.

“Fucking beautiful,” he hisses under his breath.

I tear my gaze from his hands, peer up at him through my lashes, and offer a faint smile. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Leo. And don’t curse around my baby,” I say, playfully slapping his chest, breaking us free from the heavy moment. Too many feels are happening, and I can’t afford to do feels. “Now it’s your turn. Strip for me, old man.”

His hands leave my body, accompanied by a scowl. “You
are
beautiful and I’m
not
old.” Then, he swiftly pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it on top of the blanket.

I laugh and roll my eyes, trying desperately not to gawk at his
very
toned and
very
tan torso, but as usual, I fail epically. The tattoo of a lion’s profile inked across his left pec catches my attention instantly, and without his permission, I reach up and trace it with my fingertip, closely studying the intricate design. Entwined into the tendrils of the mane, a quote is hidden:
Courage without conscious is a wild beast.

“Now
that
is fucking beautiful,” I murmur softly. “Tell me what it means.”

Bringing his forefinger up under my chin, he tilts my head so I’m staring into his smiling eyes. “Maybe later, and don’t curse around the baby, young lady.”

“Touché,” I reply with a grin.
Tou-fucking-ché
.

I HAVEN’T BEEN AROUND
many pregnant women in my life. As a matter of fact, I haven’t been around any, except when Stephanie Green was pregnant with Katrina, but I was seven then. Because I focused so much of my life on Katie-bug, I’ve never given much thought to having a family, despite Mama’s urging otherwise. However, as I spend the day with Trystan, a girl I’ve known less than twenty-four hours, I realize two things:

First, maybe because it’s a part of her entire package, but I think her little round belly is sexy as hell. I find myself yearning to touch it, every inch of her actually, over and over again. Thankfully, she hasn’t seemed to mind the occasional embrace or random caress to her unbelievably soft skin, or at least she hasn’t made me feel like a complete fucking creeper yet.

Second, I’m jealous and pissed off. Some irresponsible piece of shit was lucky enough to have this incredible woman in his life, and he left her pregnant with his kid, not wanting anything to do with either of them. I want to know more about the story, about what exactly happened, but I’m afraid to ask. Much like when she asked me about the story behind my tattoo, I’m assuming if I inquire about the background, she too will choose not to talk about it.

“I’m getting hungry again,” she says, nudging my shoulder. “I think we’ve devoured all the food we brought. Do you want to eat at the restaurant they have here, or head back to town?”

We’ve been lying out on the blanket, drying off our swimsuits in the late afternoon sun from an earlier swim in the bay and canoeing adventure. From the time she picked me up this morning, I’ve been extraordinarily happy. I was a little nervous when I first woke up that perhaps she was right—maybe I’d drank too much the night before and had been overwhelmed with emotions from seeing Katrina and the entire wedding—but that wasn’t the case at all. The same vibe that lured me to her last night has only multiplied throughout today.

“Let’s go to the one here. Is it in walking distance?” I ask in response.