She chuckles, low and husky, before snatching a second towel for Liza. She returns to the sunlit sand ten feet beyond the shade of the umbrella.
I cock my head. “Why bring an umbrella if you’re just gonna roast yourself in the sun?”
She gives me a look that says, “Do I really need to explain this to you?”
Cam claps me on the back as he passes. “Don’t bother trying to make sense of these two.”
My laugh freezes as Kate bends in her tiny denim shorts to fan out her towel. An escaped strand of hair from her messy bun skates across her cheek.
I work to swallow.
This was a really bad idea. Why did I think I’d be impervious to Vacation Kate? This enigmatic version who takes photos and actually laughs at my jokes. The impossibly sexier, sandier version in a black bikini and frayed denim shorts.
Accessories sold separately.
A groan slides under my breath before I tell myself to knock it off. I can do this. I can show up for Kate, myfriend. Besides, I’ve endured week-long backpacking trips with Tuck’s hygiene and bodily reactions to dairy.
I candothis.
So I slide on a charming grin and spread my own towel beneath the umbrella like a normal person. I withdraw the brown leather sketchbook Kate gifted me at the beginning of the trip and set it beside my towel in case I feel inspired later. I lie down in the shade, propping my arms behind my head and taking in the scenery behind my sunglasses.
Liza slips off her shoes, dancing like she’s on hot coals. She ties her shorter brown hair back in a ponytail.
“C’mon, Kate. Let’s go swim,” Liza says.
Kate hesitates, her left knee beginning to bounce. Her eyes cut tome for a millisecond.
“I’m good. You go ahead,” Kate says.
Liza’s head drops to the side. “You mean to tell me that we escaped a Chicago winter tothis”—she orchestrates a gesture at the symphony of crashing waves—“and you’re not even gonnaswim?”
Kate bites her lip, looking at the diamond-crested water. Her shoulders slump. “Fine, I’ll swim.”
Liza squeals and bolts across the sand. “Beat you there!”
Kate’s eyes flick to me before a breath seems to straighten her spine. She tosses her head back, unbuttons her shorts, and slides them off her hips so fast it’s almost a blur.
But time somehow betrays her. Because in my line of vision, each second becomes ten. Then twenty. And I have all the time in the world to take in the thorny rose tattooed on her left hip. How the stem climbs from the top of her thigh to where the scarlet petals curve above the band of her bikini bottoms.
It’s as though she plucked one from my very shoulder to keep on the skin behind her pocket. A secret, only for her.
Except, I’ve seen it now. And the rush of heat flooding my veins tells me I’ll never be able to unsee it.
KATE
I sneak up the winding cement stairs off the patio, low plants grazing my bare ankles. My mind is a coiled jack-in-the-box, one I need to unwind before I burst open. The top of the hot tub gazebo is barely visible against the inky black sky, but the bubbling water glows a faint blue. I make a mental note to thank the staff for leaving the cover off.
I slip off my sandals and ease into the scalding water. The burning bite does little to distract my mind, however. Even though I’m concealed by flowering bushes, I still feel exposed.
Vulnerable.
Brandon’s eyes stayed hidden behind his sunglasses at the beach, but I know he saw my tattoo. His whole demeanor changed, and his eyes kept wandering to the spot long after I put my shorts back on.
Heknows, and I don’t know how to feel about it. Or howhefeels about it.
I sink deeper, turning until the bubbling water heats my shoulders, as if that will erase the embarrassment inked on my skin.
“Am I interrupting?”
