His wet face shines up at me, and his smile indicates he knows what I’m thinking. Point, Morgan. “Don’t look so shocked. When I’m not sleep-and-luggage deprived, I’m a pretty nice guy.”
I snort a derisive laugh but find I can’t force my gaze away.
Water droplets have gathered on his lashes, and he brushes at the hair plastered to his forehead. The water makes it appear almost black. I reach out to help him push it away from his eyes. We lock gazes, and his expression changes.
I snatch my hand back. What am I doing? I shouldn’t be touching his hair. Wasn’t I supposed to loathe him when no one is around? That’s the deal I made with him last night.
He pulls his paddleboard closer and reclaims his carefree smile. “Just know only your beautiful brown locks saved you today. Otherwise”—he points down at the water—“red-dirt bath.”
“Noted.”
He pushes away from me and flops onto his board.
I stay seated as we paddle toward the shore. Just what was that thrill as the wordbeautifulleft his lips?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WILL
The ham-and-cheese sandwich I bought at a converted Airstream food truck dumps a pile of shredded lettuce onto the concrete floor as I reach up one-handed to string twinkle lights through the wooden beams overhead. This isn’t working.
I secure the lights and then stuff the rest of the sandwich into my mouth.
Also balanced on a chair in the lakeside pavilion, Morgan strings the other end of the lights. She reaches up on her tiptoes as a breeze blows wisps of hair across her shoulders. The lake sparkles behind her. Man, she’s beautiful. Did she notice the electricity thrumming between us on the lake?
She must’ve because she’s been distant ever since.
Before she catches me staring, I crane to survey our handiwork.
Not bad.
This open-air space will host the rehearsal dinner tonight as well as the reception and dance after the wedding tomorrow. Our instructions say to put only a few lights up now and then add the rest, plus an assortment of other decorations, tomorrow.
That list’s all we have to go on, and we’re doing our best. I hope it’s good enough.
Morgan steps from her chair and pulls her phone from her back pocket. Her shoulders droop. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What is it?” I jump down and push the lettuce off the pavilion with my foot.
“Listen to this from Fran.” She reads from the screen. “‘The groom’s ring needs to be picked up from the jeweler before two. That’s when they close.’”
I check my phone. “It’s already one fifteen. Yikes.”
Morgan fishes the checklist from her pocket. She scans the front and then flips it over. “Yep. It’s here. Lakeside Jewelry Store. But it doesn’t say anything about two. I hadn’t even read down this far. Do you think it’s nearby?”
“I doubt it.” I’m already searching in my map application. “It’s twenty-five minutes away. We should go.”
She turns the paper sideways. “There’s an extra note. ‘Owners require in-person pickup by bride and groom.’ Well, that’s unfortunate. I’ll text Fran.” Her thumbs fly over her phone, and a moment later, she reads, “‘We’re too far out to come back in time. You’ll have to fake it. They’ve never seen Morgan or Will, so it should be easy. Hudson says you can take his truck to save your gas money.’”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Is she saying what I think she’s saying? We’re going to pretend to be the bride and groom?”
“That’sexactlywhat she’s saying.”
“Well.” I cross my arms. “Think you can pretend to like me for, say, ten minutes?”
She rolls her eyes. “Doubt it. But we’ll give it a go.” She nods toward the strings of lights at her feet. “Should we leave this here?”
“Yeah. It’ll be fine. We’ll be right back. I can drive, but I need to grab my wallet.”
