Switching the can to her other hand, Chloe wrapped her own arm about his waist; dainty fingers drawing invisible, nonsensical designs on the same of his back. She hadn't felt like this in ages and drank in his obvious delight as easily as she did the beer. Flirting with clients was one thing - a thing she prided herself on knowing how to do well - but an ocean-side romp with a handsome stranger seemed like something dreamed up in one of the smutty books she read to pass the time on flights.
Chloe laughed softly. "And that is why I stick to cookingbooks; you don't need a plot to make the readers happy." Her nose wrinkled and she playfully bumped her hip against his. "But I'm sure any story based on this place will be fantastic."
He had a way with words; whether it be in song, poem, or simply the way he spoke to her. Stories came alive when they fell past his lips and she could spend hours by the fire, content to merely listen to his tales.