Her attention flowed to the touch football game beginning to take shape on the stretch of beach below them. She motioned her chin toward the players. It looked like a large group of college-aged friends. Guys and girls both. “Want to join them?”
Zander considered her with a small, uneven smile.
Something other than chocolate greatness had the ability to make her heart beat faster.He did. There was power in that particular smile on the face of her friend—the quiet, brilliant man.
“Yes,” he said. “But only if we’re on opposing teams.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
They talked smack to each other while stashing the backpack in the car and making their way to the beach.
The players were glad to welcome two more. Zander gave their names.
“Wait,” said a beautiful blonde dressed head to toe in Lululemon. “Are you Zander Ford, the author?”
“Yes!” Britt answered before Zander had a chance to. This person recognized Zander! Pride sunburst within her more strongly than it would have if she’d been the one recognized. “Have you readGeniuses?”
“I have,” the blonde chirped. “Oh my gosh, it was amazing.”
“It really was,” Britt said.
“Thanks.” Zander appeared both pleased and sheepish.
“I couldn’t put it down.” The girl eyed Zander, as if deciding whether he’d fit into the tuxedo she had picked out for her future groom.
This female stranger had fallen prey to Zander’s unattainable vibe and fantastic book, which wasn’t at all uncommon. The unattainable vibe had attracted women even before the release of the book.
What was uncommon? The emotion that overtook Britt in response to the girl’s interest.
Possessiveness.
A few seconds ago, she’d liked the girl. Now she wanted to step in front of Zander and tell her in no uncertain terms not to get her hopes up.
Britt was losing her marbles. Honestly, it was almost frightening. These newfound feelings for Zander were just too ... fraught. Too unsettling.
The girl asked Zander questions about his writing process, which he fielded good-naturedly.
“Shall we start?” Britt asked the group at large, interrupting the girl halfway through a question.
“Sure,” one of the guys answered, and the two teams coalesced.
Just empty your head, Britt. Simply enjoy aSunday afternoon game of touch football.
For the next hour, they played. The teams progressed up and down a “field” they’d marked off with pieces of driftwood. Cool breeze coursed through Britt’s hair. She ran. She caught passes and dodged to stop the opposing team’s plays.
A hazy blue sky watched over them, the water of the Sound glimmered, sun kissed Britt’s cheeks, and she and Zander bantered. They behaved as they always had when competing—ribbing each other, making predictions of grandeur, and laying down outrageous boasts.
In the end, Britt’s team won.
She approached Zander, flushed with victory. “Everything’s right with the world when the worthiest team wins.”
“Funny. I was just going to say that everything’s wrong with the world when the worthiest team loses.” Exertion and sea air had dampened his sable hair.
“Thank goodness that’s not what occurred here today.” She scooped up an aqua piece of sea glass and brandished it. “I’m going to take this home as a trophy to remind me of today’s game. Every time I see it, I’ll have an excellent reason to gloat.”
He attempted to jab upward on the bottom of the glass so that it would spring from her grip.
She jerked it out of range just in time and, laughing, turned and ran.
