I carefully descended and stepped into the soft, deep sand. Dropping my towel and cover-up, I waded into the ocean. My whole body clenched as the cold water hit my ankles. It was so blue here, the sea paired with the cloudless sky, blue and rippling in all directions. I waded further, Aunt Lou’s voice reminding me not to go swimming by myself. But I wouldn’t go far, just a dip.
In one brutal, squeezing moment, I sank underwater and came up gasping, salt on my lips. I swam a few laps back and forth, failing miserably at doing the crawl in a straight line, and felt delighted anyway. Eventually, I flipped onto my back, buoyed bythe salt and rocked by the waves, and let the water carry me where it would.
When I finally wore myself out, I retreated to the beach and threw myself down on my towel with abandon. This was the life: sun on my skin, cradled by sand, the lap of the water filling my head and gentling my mind. If I could get away with it, I’d peel off my bathing suit and soak in the sun everywhere. I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift.
The sea rushed toward me and away; the sun sank through me, and I fell asleep.
***
“Hey.”
A voice startled my eyes open. Ethan Barbanel stood ten feet from me. I pushed myself up on my elbows, wishing I could tug at my bikini bottom to make sure any stray hairs were covered and adjust my top for maximum cleavage. “Hey.”
“Nice suit.”
Ha, it was, wasn’t it. I stretched my arms high, interlocking my fingers above my head. I felt a surge of satisfaction when his gaze fell to my chest. “You think so?”
“I do.” He dropped down on my towel by my feet, his long arms draped around his bent knees. “Did you go swimming?”
He wore a boring white T-shirt and board shorts—how did he still look so casually gorgeous? “Yeah.”
“You know about riptides?”
“Of course I do. I’m from Massachusetts.”
He raised his hands. “Just checking. I’d hate to lose my boss’s daughter.”
I watched the waves dash themselves against the shore. “You don’t have to take care of me.”
“I would never,” he said, hand over heart.
But apparently that was his instinct. Why? Because my dad had told him about my impulsive nature? Just like he’d told Ethan so much else.
“I can’t believe my dad told you about my dating life.” Dad could barely talk tomeabout my dating, and I was the one living it. Sure, he’d hugged me and rubbed my head whenever I got dumped, but we rarely had daylight conversations. “What did he say?”
“He didn’t really,” Ethan admitted. “He, uh…sighs a lot.”
“Excuseme?”
“Not in a bad or judgmental way,” Ethan said hurriedly. “More in a—I think the first summer he came here, you’d started dating a boy in a band?”
Oh, wow, I’d almost forgotten. I’d been fourteen at the time and the relationship had been a blip, notable only because Wyatt had been the first boy I’d gone out with who didn’t go to my school. It’d been my first summer staying with Aunt Lou, Uncle Jerry, and my cousins. Lauren, the youngest, was two years older than me. She’d let me tag along to parties with her classmates, and I’d met Wyatt at one of them. “I’m not sure eitherdateorbandis technically correct.”
“Yeah, well, I remember your dad talking about how excited you were, and then a month later, he was pretty stressed becausethe two of you had broken up. The next summer, if anyone asked if you were seeing anyone, he would sigh.”
“Who even asked?” I said, affronted. Who had I been dating then? Oh, Jason from work, in a messy on-off thing that lasted about three seconds. I’d caught him making out with Lisa H. in the walk-in freezer.
Ethan shrugged. “I dunno. The aunts? I think they thought it was interesting. And they like giving advice.”
How horrifying, to think the women at Golden Doors might have been keeping tabs on my dating life. “I’m pretty good at dating, I’ll have you know. Not necessarily at being in a relationship, but I can always find someone to go out with.”
“Is that so.” Ethan grinned and shook his head. “You’re a surprise.”
He’d mentioned before how I hadn’t been what he expected. “What did you think I was going to be like?”
“A really good, sweet girl.” He gestured at his shoulders. “Pigtails. Wide eyes.”
I snorted. “You’re joking.”
