I huffed out a breath, watching the waves roll up the shore. “He’s Senator Whitmore’s son. Our families move in the same circles, and he’s convinced we’d make the perfect political dynasty couple, thinking the press would eat it up.”
Jase’s mouth tightened. “I should have hit him.”
The wind blew through my hair, sending a strand across my cheek, and I brushed it back. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested.”
“Figured as much, but I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Dylan added.
“He’s just … pushy.” I downplayed the uneasy twist in my gut.
Callum laughed loudly, making me glance in his direction. He’d tipped his head back, seemingly at ease, but his eyes flicked toward us again a second later. Not subtle at all.
The last thing I wanted was to spend the rest of the night waiting to see whether he’d wander back over.
“You guys want to get out of here?” I asked.
Dylan didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Absolutely,” Jase agreed.
“We can have our own party back at the villa and make use of the fire pit.”
“A bonfire and our own private beach?” Jase grinned. “Now that’s elevated company.”
“I’ll grab some wood.”Dylan headed to the side of the house, where a covered rack stood.
“I’ll get the drinks,” Jase offered. “What do you want, Princess?”
“Surprise me,” I responded, already kicking off my sandals on the back patio.
Being in that moment brought back memories.
To another beach.
To the night before the Fourth of July party on the Cape, when we sat around the fire pit at my family’s house.
“You okay?”
I turned at the sound of Dylan’s voice. He was carrying an armful of wood, and Jase was a few steps behind him, holding three glasses filled with something colorful.
“Yeah.” I smiled. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous,” Jase teased, handing me a glass and setting Dylan’s glass down on a table next to the outdoor couch.
Dylan stacked the wood in the pit, then crouched to light it. Within minutes, flames were licking skyward.
Jase lifted his drink. “I call this drink ‘Better Than D.C.’”
I snorted. “That’s a low bar.”
“Okay. How about ‘Fuck That Guy’?”
“But not in the hot way.” Dylan chuckled.
“What about Tropical Trio?” I suggested.
“I like that,” Jase agreed.
“Me too,” Dylan said.
