She looks as if she’s fifteen again as she runs into the water, and I feel as if I’m fifteen too. Or maybe I’m thirty-five, but the shit that’s happened over the past decade was just some kind of bad dream, and life worked out the way it was supposed to.
There’s a sandbar farther out. The two of us wade toward it then swim once it gets too deep. Unfortunately the water is fullof seaweed. By the time we reach the sandbar, her hair and mine are full of it. I pull it from her long mane and then she plucks a few pieces from mine.
“We’re allogrooming,” she informs me. “It reduces cortisol and increases oxytocin.”
I smile. I like that she’s telling me her facts again.
We sit for a while in the waist-deep water, observing the shore from a distance. I could stay here all day if I had a cooler.
“You realize,” I tell her, “that this trough between the sandbar and the shore is exactly where sharks feed.”
She grins. “Good thing I don’t have anopen woundto lure them toward me.”
“I swim faster, so I’d mostly be luring them to you,” I reply, and she takes off for the shore, giving herself a head start in a race we never even agreed to. I chase after her, slowing as we near the shore, and she smiles at me once we reach the beach.
“You let me win,” she says.
I shrug. The truth is that I enjoy watching her win more than I enjoy beating her. I always have. I should have recognized how crazy I was about her long before I finally did.
She spreads her towel in the sand and closes her eyes, sighing in contentment. I set my towel beside hers and attempt to read the paper but catch myself watching her instead. Her chest rises and falls steadily as she drifts off to sleep, and before I can stop it, I’m picturing my hand sliding down her taut stomach, my palm pressing to one of those jutting hip bones. My fingers running over the strip of fabric between her legs, giving her only enough pressure to make her want more.
I roll on my stomach, looking for something else to think about, something to kill the image off.
Like the fact that by tomorrow night, I will no longer have her to myself, but Aiden very well might.
Yep. That definitely killed the mood.
28
EASTON
We heat up the leftover pizza for dinner that night. Hawk’s friend Aiden texts while we’re eating to say he’s looking forward to meeting me. I haven’t decided how or if I’ll reply when Elijah’s phone rings.
“Betty?” he demands as he picks up, his worried gaze darting to mine. “What’s up?”
I can only hear the hysteria in her response, which is met by Elijah’s calm, focused reply. “Everything is going to be fine. Wait right there. We’re on the way.”
He sets the phone down and runs both hands through his hair. “They apparently went to see some country band playing at the pavilion. Betty went to the bathroom and now she can’t find them. She’s waiting for us in front of the post office.”
My shoulders drop in relief. I was positive there was going to be a medical emergency, one I’d be incapable of handling.
I raise a brow. “You know what’s actually happened, yes?”
He grabs his keys and nods me toward the stairs. “No, Easton. What has actually happened?”
“Your grandmother is cock blocking Betty,” I tell him, slipping on flip-flops before I start down the stairs. “She pulledPaul off somewhere alone and now she’s telling him how long she’s been without a man’s touch.”
He rolls his eyes as he opens the passenger door for me. “I’m just relieved you didn’t suggest anal was involved.”
“She’s probably keeping that in her back pocket,” I reply. “You don’t want to play your best cards upfront.”
We hop in the car and turn right onto 30A. We aren’t far away, but traffic slows to a crawl as we approach. Even pedestrians are moving faster than we are.
“Why don’t I hop out and let Betty know we’re here?” I suggest.
“Just stay in the car,” he demands. “We’re three blocks from the pavilion and I don’t want to lose you too.”
We sit for two more minutes. I picture Betty giving up on us, being sad, wandering one direction or another. I open the door while the car is still rolling forward and leap out.
