Because I know my turn is coming.
I can feel it in the way Mr. McNeal keeps glancing my way between bites of burger and sips of beer. Like he’s sizing me up, figuring out what kind of man I am without asking me directly.
And then he turns to me. “So, Esteban,” he sayscasually, wiping his hands with a napkin. “You planning on having kids once you and Eva get married?”
My whole body goes still.
Out of all the things he could’ve asked—the business, the engagement, my lack of filter—this is the one question I actuallywantto answer.
Relief floods my chest as I crack a grin. “Yes, sir. I’d love to have at least two.”
Mr. McNeal raises his eyebrows and gives me a nod of approval. “That’s a good number. Not too many, not too few. Just enough to keep you on your toes.”
The others chuckle, and I let myself relax a little.
But only a little.
Because while I’ve been answering polite questions and pretending to be chill, I’ve also been stealing glances at Eva.
She’s over there, stretched out on a lounge chair like some kind of goddess, her skin glowing under the sun, that damn two-piece showing off every perfect curve she has. Her laugh carries over to me every now and then, and I swear it does something to my chest.
When she reached for the sunblock earlier, I almost walked over and offered to help rub it in. Her back, her shoulders, anywhere she’d let me touch.
But then Noah caught my eye.
That man’s been watching me like a hawk ever since we got here. Like he’s waiting for me to screw up.
So instead of walking over to Eva like I wanted, I shoved my hands in my pockets and stared at the grill like I actually cared whether the burgers were medium or well-done.
And now I’m here, stuck between making a good impression and trying not to lose my mind every time Eva shifts on that damn chair.
A while later, after the last burger is flipped and the grill sizzles into silence, we all gather around the long outdoor dining table near the grill. The view from here is insane, lush palms swaying in the breeze, the ocean shimmering behind us like a damn postcard.
Eva slides into the seat beside me, her skin still glowing from the sun, the scent of coconut clinging to her like a tease.
The second she’s close, I feel myself settle.
I reach under the table and lace my fingers with hers. She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezes my hand once, then lets me rub my thumb slowly over her skin.
God, I could get used to this.
She’s laughing with Violet and Josy, and I’m just soaking it in—her voice, the way her hair catches the sunlight, the easy way she fits here with everyone.
My belly’s full, Eva’s hand is in mine, and for a moment, I forget this is all pretend. I forget that we are acting so I can get a business deal. I forget that I’m not supposed to be falling for my best friend’s little sister.
Mr. McNeal leans back in his chair, swirling the ice in his drink, still not bringing up the business. It’s weird. But in a good way. He’s focused on connection, and somehow, I feel like that’s the real test. He wants to see how we are with each other, how we fit in this world.
Then dessert arrives. Chocolate cake. Thick. Rich. The kind that probably weighs a pound per slice, and I let out a low groan without meaning to.
Eva turns toward me, eyebrows raised, her green eyes full of curiosity. “What’s wrong?”
I meet her gaze and grin. “Chocolate cake is my undoing. I’ve already eaten so much I might burst, but now that thing is staring at me like it knows my weaknesses.”
She chuckles, biting her bottom lip before leaning in a little. “Maybe we can take a slice back to our room. You know… for later.”
Her voice is playful, but her eyes, they’re lit with something else.
And maybe I’m imagining it, but I swear she’s flirting with me.
