Coconut Grove Blooming like the shadows upon you I drowned beside

The hours passed and very little did Boone stray from Reverie's side as birdsong turned to that of crickets and frogs and the air gnashed with razor teeth. The beach, decidedly, was not the worst place in the world to be.
He'd kept watch over little Blossom when the golden girl disappeared from view, even helped with making her own little shack with twigs and cattail fluff for warmth. But the girl didn't know him, and he wasn't her father — nor would he try to be.
And now as she slept and the mountaineer made an attempt to, Reverie's absence was felt. He wasn't about to be stuck with some other dude's kid if she were to up and run; but even that aside, he wanted company. It'd been too damn long since he talked to someone he didn't have to merely tolerate.
And so he sought her out after assuring little Blossom was sound, trudging through the sand and kicking it up as he walked. He'd found her along the coast, up against the cakey shoreline. Watchin' the waves? he chuffs, voice smokey and laced with the scratch of restlessness. His tongue pokes from between his lips in order to wet them as his eyes traverse the curve of her spine; but some kind of guilt for doing so catches him in his tracks.
What the hell was he doing?