To My Senses The Nicci Beauvoir Series Book 1 by Alexandrea Weis Page B

moment.”
    “ And how is that? As a
worthless fisherman?”
    “ No.” I paused and analyzed
how his smile complemented his face. “I see someone who is a
wanderer. Who is perhaps tired of wandering?”
    He sat silent for a moment,
studying me. Then, he turned away. “How did you get so smart for
one so young?”
    “ I’m not that much younger
than you.”
    “ Let’s just say there are
more than a few years between us.”
    “ Does that bother
you?”
    He shook his head. “No,
because you’re more mature than people I know who are twice your
age. I like that about you.”
    Standing up, I put my pole
down and walked over to a patch of clover next to the lagoon bank
and sat down. “You have to grow up fast to survive in this
town.”
    He retrieved his pole and
sat down beside me. “Yes. I can understand that, especially after
dealing with Sammy and her friends.”
    The breeze from the west
was cooling to my skin and the sun above beat down on my head,
chasing away any chill. David reclined on the green clover
surrounding us.
    “ I can only imagine what it
has been like for you. I bet you have some great stories to
tell.”
    I tugged at the clover
underneath my hand. “They’re not pretty romances or tidy tales of
intrigue. They are simply ugly reflections of the human species.
The pettiness and the greed, that’s what I mostly see or hear
about.”
    “ You sound like a writer.”
He paused and sat up. “Are you a writer, Nicci?”
    “ I’m no writer. I’m
just…well, a dabbler.”
    “ Like I dabble in
painting?” he chuckled.
    “ No,
you are a painter!
You’re good enough to make a living at it. I don’t think anyone
would want to read about the misadventures of a disillusioned
debutante. No, I decided long ago that being a writer was not a
practical profession. I wanted something steady, like nursing.
Maybe one day, I’ll become more than just a
dabbler.”
    “ Be a writer now, if that’s
what you want. Don’t be fooled by the lure of a practical and
steady existence. It’s also a very empty one.” He moved his face
closer to mine. “Is that your dream, Nicci, to become a
writer?”
    I felt the warm embrace of
his eyes. My stomach danced with butterflies, and I quickly turned
away.
    “ I’d better get back.” I
stood and went to collect my pole.
    “ Yes,” he agreed. “It’s
getting late.”
    ***
    We drove back to the
Quarter in silence. His playful mood was gone, and he didn’t try to
continue the light banter we had shared earlier. It was anger I
sensed from him now. I noticed the way his hands tightly gripped
the steering wheel, and how his arm tensed every time he shifted
gears. These were not the effortless motions I had observed at the
park. I studied him, as the car purred along Esplanade Avenue,
wondering what I had done or said to invoke his ire. Before I knew
it, we were back in the Quarter, in almost the same spot we had
left.
    “ I’ll walk you back to your
car,” he grumbled, without turning to look at me.
    I gathered my things and
got out of the car. “No, I’ll be all right.”
    He hurried from the
driver’s side and came around to me. “I’m glad we had a chance to
talk and get to know each other today, Nicci.”
    His features remained
blank. His eyes showed no warmth. The cool professional was back.
There was no hint of the playful boy I had seen in the
park.
    “ Yeah, me too.” I directed
my eyes to the tourists walking by, the buildings surrounding us,
anywhere but at him. “Thank you,” I added, as I made my move to
walk away.
    He held my arm. “I’m not
angry with you, I’m angry with myself. Don’t walk away thinking
that today was not special to me.” He let go of my arm and wiped
his face in his hands. “Oh, Nicci! What am I to do with you?” His
eyes searched mine, and then he gently caressed my
cheek.
    Chills ran down to my toes.
“Good-bye, David.”
    He stiffened and pulled his
hand away. At first, I thought he would get into his car