Nepenthe Kay
I thought that if I took my daughter to the beach early, we could relax a bit before the crowds got there. Apparently, the crowds all had the same idea. Go figure: Pebble Beach, a Tuesday morning hotspot.
I set up our little square, resting the cooler bag and Willow’s toys next to my umbrella chair. I released a contented sigh as I sat back, watching her rifle through the tiny pile for the perfect toy. A light breeze kept the temperatures cool, and despite the surprising amount of people around us, it was shaping up to be the perfect beach day.
Willow started on a sandcastle, then grew bored by the time she got to the moat. “Mooommmyyyy!” She called out from an entire one foot away.
I smiled a little. “Yes, baby?”
“Where’s my bat?”
I stared at it, not even four inches from where she stood, and sighed. It was apparently going to be one of “those” days.
“Right there.” I tried to keep my voice as patient as I could. She smiled gleefully and grabbed the bat and the attached wiffle ball.
She tossed the ball in the air a few times, apparently to get the hang of it. Then she swung the bat. At six years old, she understandably wasn’t the most coordinated little creature, so I was absolutely not expecting for her to make any sort of contact with the ball.
I was wrong.
Her first swing missed the ball by mere inches. Her second swing, however, connected with a hollow “thunk.” A gasp replaced my grin as the ball hit the head of a nearby man. The resulting sound felt like it echoed louder than the crashing of the waves as I shot to my feet. He rubbed the back of his head, turning around.
Willow got to him first, a big smile on her face. “Sorry, Mister!” She called out in her chirpy little voice.
He smiled softly at her and bent down, hands on his knees. “Mean swing, kiddo,” he said with a little laugh.
“I am so, so sorry!” I floundered as I approached at a half run. I couldn’t help but notice how blatantly attractive he was as he straightened and faced me. Shirtless, with a bit of chest hair on his very muscled torso. He smiled lightly, showing a row of perfectly white teeth. The sun glistened off him and sand clung to his calves. It was as if even nature wanted to touch him. And I couldn’t blame it.
“No harm done at all. I regularly hit myself in the head harder than that just doing basic things.” He gave a little shrug. “I guess it’s just that clumsy construction worker’s existence,” he said and turned back to Willow. “You have the makings of a baseball player.”
Willow beamed. “Did you hear that, Mommy?” she asked excitedly. “He says I’m gonna be a baseball player!”
“I heard! And you absolutely can, if you want to to!” I responded, careful to not look at him as my cheeks grew warm of their own accord.
“I need a pitcher and mommy isn’t very good at throwing,” Willow announced, all too cheerfully. “Want to help me?”
I stifled a giggle behind the back of my hand. “Rude, little one.”
“What? It’s true!” she protested firmly.
He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that made my chest grow tight. “If your momma is okay with it, then definitely!”
“I’m fine with it,” I said, finally looking at him and meeting his warm, kind, brown eyes.
“Well then, there we go. Imagine, in about 15 years, when you’re playing professionally, I’ll get to say I was there at the start of it all.”
Willow giggled at his theatrics and skipped off towards our clear spot again, getting ready to become the world’s best baseball player, apparently.
The man turned to face me, walking backwards in the sand. “I’m Tristan, by the way,” he grinned.
“I’m Addie, and it’s nice to meet you,” I smiled back. “You better be careful, clumsy construction worker, walking backwards like that.”
“I’ll be fine. And if I trip and fall, you can save me, and then we will be even.” He answered brightly.
“Oh, will we?”
He paused, tilting his head. “No. Actually, we won’t be even until you let me take you out. Oh. And I’ll be needing your number.”
“Is that all?” I managed to giggle through my blush.
“Oh, no, definitely not; but it’s a good start.”
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