All yes.
I remember every moment of time I spent with Spencer and how close we came to—
To what? What were we close to? All I know is that I took the coward’s way out when we were at the tipping point. Instead of leaning over to seewhat if, I backed away.
I ran, or as much as you can run when you’re on a yacht.
But Spencer never chased. He never pushed.
The only pushing we do is to push each other away, and I’m having a hard time stopping that practice.
After the swim, and once we pull clothes over still-damp bodies, we walk into town. It’s an odd pack moving along the boardwalk—seven men with me in the centre and clearly the focus, as well as three cameras recording every word and expression.
We stop in a few places: Dylan wants to check out the firehall, Liam stops at a market stand to buy late-season strawberries for me, Phillippe plucks a rose from someone’s bush in the front yard and presents it to me with a flourish.
Picking a stranger’s flowers is something I would do—and have done—but I don’t think it’s a good move for the show.
Finally, we end up at the local brewery and I laugh at the scuffle of seven men all trying to sit next to me, like a game of musical chairs and me as the last chair.
We start with a tasting fleet. The mood is casual and fun, even though I don’t like how Phillippe hovers, like he’s blocking access to me. Liam holds his own on my other side, and he is sosweet.
Too sweet for me, but better than the handsy Luc C. I might have accidentally-on-purpose elbowed him in the water earlier.
Once we’ve tasted the choices, I decide on a pint of hibiscus lager. After we’re served, across the table from me, Spencer raises his glass of stout. “Shall we?” The challenge is there in his eyes.
“What’s this?” Charlie wants to know.
I touch my glass with Spencer’s. “We shall. On three. One, two…” I tip the frothy beer to my lips and drink deep.
“Hey, slow down,” Phillippe warns.
The beer chug race is what my brothers and Spencer do when they’re together, and occasionally, they let me join in. To have Spencer instigate…
It’s on, because he can never finish a pint in one go. Neither can I, but I’ll give it my all.
I lock gazes with Spencer over the rims of our glasses and try not to laugh as his eyes bulge slightly. He makes it over halfway before admitting defeat and slamming down his glass.
I last a second longer.
“Ha!” I wipe my mouth.
“I don’t know whether to be afraid or turned on,” Dylan chuckles.
“I’ve always said I could drink you under the table,” I say.
“I’ll take a round with you under the table,” Phillippe says, pressing his leg against mine. I move it away.
Spencer inclines his head. “I bow to your greatness.”
“As you should.” My teasing smile is just for him, but then I bring the others in. “I grew up with four brothers and a father who has a micro-brewery,” I say. “They all like their beer.”
“Isn’t itfivebrothers?” Derrick asks with a glance at Spencer. “That’s what they call you. The fifth prince. You grew up together, so you should—”
“I stopped thinking of Lyra as little sister a long, long time ago,” Spencer interrupts, his gaze still on me.
“How long?” I have to ask.
“You were fourteen. It was the Sea Queen dance, and you wore pink.”
