“How’s your summer been?” Sabrina asks, looking from me to Wyatt. “You two been getting along?”
“Splendidly,” he says lightly, and Sabrina narrows her eyes.
Shit. Can she sense it somehow? Does she know we’ve been having sex?
Luckily, Tucker calls his wife over, and her attention shifts to him. Then the four of them climb upstairs to get settled in their rooms.
My parents arrive a couple hours later with Wyatt’s parents in tow. They all took the same flight from Boston.
“Happy birthday!” Mom says, throwing her arms around me in a tight embrace. When she pulls back, she searches my face and then smiles. “You look good. Tanned and rested.”
My dad hugs me next before giving me the same once-over. “Are we over the potato yet?”
I roll my eyes. “We were over the potato the day his potato sex tape leaked.”
Dad snorts. “That’s my girl.” He glances at my mom when she reaches for her suitcase. “I’ve got it, gorgeous. Go hang out with our girl.”
Dad and Garrett lug their bags up to their respective suites. Most of the parents have a suite, while the Connellys and Davenports always share the apartment above the boathouse. Only the Davenports are coming this year, with AJ representing the Connellys solo. Hisparents, Brenna and Jake, are spending the summer in Boston to help out Brenna’s dad who just had knee surgery.
AJ and the others aren’t arriving until tomorrow, though. Today we’re waiting only for the Di Laurentises, who show up after dinnertime looking like their perfect blond selves, each one more exquisite than the last.
I greet Beau with a big hug. I haven’t seen him since the semester ended at Briar, and I missed those sparkling green eyes and dazzling smile. He releases me to exchange a quick side hug with Wyatt.
“Hey, dude,” Beau says. “Where’s Gigi?”
“She and BIL are flying in from Dallas tomorrow morning.”
Everybody congregates on the main floor. Except for Tucker, who always unpacks every single item in his and Sabrina’s suitcases because “we can’t stay for a month somewhere, darlin’, and live out of a suitcase,” he tells Alex, who laughs and says, “My whole life is out of a suitcase, Daddy.”
“Doesn’t make it right,” he chirps.
The rest of the men stomp down to the dock and crack open their beers, their boisterous laughter echoing in the warm evening air and wafting up to the deck. Wyatt is with them, and I keep stealing glances at him from the upper deck, where Jamie is telling me about her recent case. A defense attorney, she practices criminal law. So does her mother, except Sabrina doesn’t represent criminals but tries to get the wrongfully accused out of prison. Her innocence organization has had some high-profile convictions overturned, making her one of the most sought-after attorneys in the country.
In a nearby chair, Beau’s sister Ivy is on her phone, texting with Stella Davenport. They’ll both be freshmen at Briar this fall, and I wonder if their friendship will survive this new life stage. The two of them are inseparable, but they couldn’t be more different. Ivy is pureas the driven snow, while Stella is a born hell-raiser. College has a way of making you gravitate toward like-minded people.
“I’m so bummed Hudson isn’t here this summer,” Ivy tells her mom after she puts away her phone. She’s referring to Hudson Fitzgerald, whose family isn’t joining us this year either.
Even though all the families are close enough that the hockey kids could probably call themselves cousins, Ivy and the Fitzgeralds actuallyarecousins. Her aunt Summer is Dean’s sister. Summer is a fashion designer and has a new line out, so she and her husband are dragging their five kids all over Europe this summer to attend her international shows. Which, honestly, doesn’t sound like a chore.
I’m in the middle of complaining to Jamie and Alex about my toaster battle with Isaac, who still refuses to surrender Hot Boi, when my phone vibrates with a message from Wyatt. I wait until the girls are distracted before taking a peek.
SONGBOY
I’m gonna bend you over that railing after everyone is asleep and drill you from behind.
I almost choke on my tongue, a cough flying out. On the dock, his head tips up toward me, and I swear I see him wink. Gulping, I type back a warning.
Stop.
SONGBOY
Stop what? Thinking about your pussy?
Impossible.
Oh boy.
It’s going to be a long month.
