WHEN THE TIDE TURNS

n the beach, no lovers laughing beneath umbrellas. Just the wind combing the

beneath her boots as she looked up at the villa. Weathered stone, green shutters, and

let herself sink into the silence. The art retreat she'd signed up for had promised seclusion and "

ar the kitche

s on a towel. Mid-thirties, maybe a little older, tall and dark-ha

is voice was low, not unfriendl

ing traffic,

towel over a chair. "I'

nded, as though he belonged to the walls

n artist?

smiled, though it felt a

stone." He gestured to the ol

f many t

a second before returning to her eyes. "You'll find the studio

nked. "

crossed. "No one else signed up. Gue

e honest. Raw. Like

thm. Alone in a beautiful villa by the sea... with a man who c

she wandered out to the studio, a little cottage half-covered in vines. Inside, the light was soft a

rs brushing the smooth woo

he door creak

a mug of tea in one hand. "

rushing briefly. A flicker of heat pa

lked away, leaving her standing there with

kitchen. The food was simple-grilled fish, roasted vegetables, a white wine tha

tually, "What brough

get away. I was... blocked. Artistic

lowly. "Mor

arm. He watched her carefully, not like a man tryin

table in the sil

here, the wind and the waves ar

oment. The candlelight danced on h

g softly. "Thanks for dinner. I t

g too. "Let the sea do t

heir shoulders brush

n't loo

t, the st

Rain lashed the windows. In her bed, Elena tossed under t

lf in a blanket, and we

Only the storm outsi

oorway, shirtless, damp hair curling at his

ake," he s

are

oked at her, really looke

r, the air humming with unspoken things. He

r things up

murmured.

ace between them vanished. His hand found her waist beneath th

didn'

t

ween them pulse