“That’s a lovely idea,” Lucy says. “I can ask Noah if he has any connections.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
With that topic exhausted, Lucy’s gaze shifts to Luke. “Are you two here together?”
Shit. “Um. We, uh?—”
“We bumped into each other.” Luke’s polished and cool, such a smooth liar. “We both had appointments in Salem, and we got to talking about a project.”
Lucy looks intrigued. “Building something new?”
“Sandcastles,” I blurt, then regret it. “We’re, uh… discussing some rule changes for the annual Cherry Blossom Lake sandcastle contest.”
“Ah.” Peter nods sagely and takes his wife’s hand. “Probably a nice break from your normal commercial construction projects.”
That would have made more sense, wouldn’t it? I own a damn construction firm.
But now I’m committed to discussing sandcastles. Luke lifts a brow but doesn’t refute my fib.
Lucy, on the other hand, has ten million questions. “Is Spencer Development sponsoring the contest this year? I heard they’d been looking for someone after DigiCom backed out, so it’s great you guys can step in. Oh! Are you bringing back the sand fleas division for little kids? That’s my favorite. Harper won when she was six, but they disqualified her for using non-native seashells on her mermaid. She also built her castle too large for the plot.” Rolling her eyes, she keeps talking. “Maybe you could make sure the rules are posted online beforehand so families can prepare? Let me know if you need committee volunteers.”
“Slow down, Luce.” Peter shoots her a look filled with love. “We’re a little keyed up today.” Tipping his head toward the building, he smiles sheepishly. “Getting the ol’ swimmers tested.”
I’m not sure what he means, but Luke responds with a sympathetic head tilt. “Did you bring your own materials like I said?”
Peter chuckles as Lucy turns pink. “Thanks for the tip,” he says. “I’ve got some inspiration on my phone.”
Are we still discussing sandcastles? Pregnancy brain has me struggling to keep up. “Some of the rules might be changing.” Because yes, Spencer Development is sponsoring the sandcastle contest. “Only manpower allowed—no mechanized assistance permitted. Can’t have too many unfair advantages, you know?”
“Oh.” Lucy blinks, then looks at her husband. “That would not have occurred to me.”
“It can be quite the problem.” I try to recall some of the sandcastle contest rule changes. “No sticky stuff,” I continue. “Dampening or spraying with water is allowed, but you can’t squirt anything else.”
Luke stifles a sound that might be a laugh. “I think we might be talking about two different things, Haze.”
And I think I don’t love being corrected. “You’ll want to take note of the size limits,” I insist, a little annoyed Luke’s not playing along with the sandcastle story. “It gets very unwieldy when some people have these massive erections and the other entries are more modest. Doesn’t seem fair, right?”
“Uh, yeah.” Peter nods gamely. “Size matters.”
Lucy turns scarlet, which is odd. She normally doesn’t embarrass easily, but I guess there’s some shame over Harper’s disqualification.
“There’s room for discussion on tools,” I continue, not wanting to seem like a hardass.
“Tools?” Lucy blinks.
“You’re allowed to use hoes, shovels, spatulas, your own hands, or even?—”
“Hazel.” Luke squeezes my arm and tips his chin back toward the clinic. “I don’t think we’re all discussing sandcastles.”
“What?” I follow his gaze to the sign over Peter’s left shoulder.
Urology.
And beneath that, a bright list of services.
Fertility testing and treatment.
“Oh. Oh, shit.” Swinging my gaze back to Lucy and Peter, I’m relieved to see they’re both laughing. “I’m so sorry.”
