“Wait.”
I’m not in the habit of taking orders. Actually, if you ask anyone who knows me, they’d tell you I lack basic listening skills. By choice.
But something about the smooth command—maybe how I know who said it, even before I turn around—makes me pause.
When I spin on my heel, they’re all watching. Shaggy looks concerned. The fellow female appears peeved I’m still in near proximity. Most of the guys are checking out my cleavage.
Nothim. He’s focused on my face, a lofty, irritated expression on his.
“What,Cap?” I ask, then smirk and glance at the towel-wearing guy slouched beside him. “Is your buddy Bottle?”
His friend grins.
Cap doesn’t. He crosses his arms, biceps bulging in a way that’s intimidating and, unfortunately, a little impressive. He has the lean build of a swimmer—broad shoulders and a tapered waist—but the confrontational stance of a boxer.
“That’s a fifteen-foot drop,” Shaggy states. “Then a couple hundred meters to swim back to shore.”
“I know.”
Ididn’tknow that. All I knew about this place was its general location. But I’m sure as hell not going to admit that.
Well, if it were just Shaggy here, I might have. He gives off friendly golden-retriever energy. But the scowling, tattooed Cap, who’s radiating disapproval and can’t appreciate a joke? No chance.
“It’s dangerous. You shouldn’t risk it, especially alone.” Shaggy glances around, like he’s hoping I’ll have a friend magically show up.
I have friends. I have lots of friends. But not one of them would do this, which is why I’m here solo. Gia’s idea of swimming is floating in a heated pool with a frozen margarita in hand.
Today isn’t very hot, and the sinking sun isn’t warming anything. The waning daylight adds a sense of urgency. Soon, thiswillbe dangerous.
“I’ll be fine,” I say confidently.
“Idiotic, is what you are.”
My gaze snaps to Cap, like it’s been hoping for a reason to. I refuse to admit, even to myself, that’s probably the case. “You’re kind of an asshole.”
“You can drop thekind of,” he tells me, unsmiling and completely serious.
“Where did you jump from?” I ask, glancing pointedly at his wet trunks.
“The edge,” he drawls.
I look at Shaggy. “See? He just did it, and he’s fine. Aside from the asshole thing, of course.”
“I’ve been bluffing since I was ten. How many times have you jumped off a cliff, princess?”
I scowl at Cap. I wasn’t talking tohim. “None of your business, asshole.”
“That means none,” one of the other guys says unhelpfully.
“She’s a rich brat,” the girl comments. “They’ll send out the Coast Guard if she gets into trouble. Not our problem.”
“Nice, Cammie,” Shaggy tells her, shaking his head.
“What? If—” Cammie glances at me. “What’s your name?”
“Wren Kensington,” I state icily. For some reason, my eyes dart to Cap as I say it.
The furrow in his forehead deepens as a few of his friends mutter to each other, recognizing my last name.
