What is wrong with me? I follow him inside and point at the stairs.
He winks at me. “Got it.”
Detouring myself to the kitchen, I mix another Sex On The Beach, and say loudly, “There are drinks in the kitchen. I’ll let you help yourself.”
“Will do.”
I rush onto the oceanside deck. I need air, lots of air, more than the waves can shove at me. I’m not sure how long I’m lost in thought before the sliding glass door catches my attention. I don’t turn around. Maybe I can play it cool and pretend that I’m not fantasizing about him having changed into his bathing suit.
Using the ocean as my focal point, I ask, “Did Diego and Phoenix get their flights rebooked, or is it just us?”
That didn’t come out like the self-preservation question it was supposed to be.
Austin’s brief laugh is as low and hearty as his voice, and drawing closer with each step. “They found a red-eye, so by thetime they fly, grab a rental car, and drive here, they should arrive mid-morning.”
He settles himself within arm’s reach on the railing. His citrusy cologne is the perfect complement to my drink. Why am I thinking things like that?
Noting that he also has a drink, I tip my glass. “Here’s to the misery of missed flights and red-eyes.”
I focus on his glass clinking against mine but my peripheral vision is on fire over his chest covered only by a sprinkling of dark hair.
“You have a healthy selection of alcohol in there. How old are you?”
“Nineteen. Are you going to tell on me?”
“What happens in the beach house, stays in the beach house.” He falters toward the end of the statement. “That might have sounded wrong.”
We share an awkward laugh, then he gets serious.
“We appreciate you reaching out to us. It’s not like our father to hide anything from us, or at least we didn’t think he did. So, we understand your concern.”
His kindness eases some of my tension, and I lift my glass to my lips. Damn. It’s empty. Did I really drink it that fast? Apparently his kindness isn’t the only reason my tension is retreating.
The little voice inside my head cautions that when the edges come off of my tension, they also come off of my inhibition. That voice is getting fainter and fainter.
I let my gaze linger on his contoured pecs, then down his abs—at least a six-pack, maybe eight. I can’t be quite sure since he’s still wearing a bathing suit. We could rectify that.
He clears his throat. Oops.
My inhibitions must have completely washed out to sea.
“My brothers and I talked. We didn’t understand how he could meet someone and marry her in one fell swoop.”
With the sun dipping below the horizon, the air takes on a chill. The darkening, vibrant colors of the sky create an ambiance, giving me a false sense that this is more than a discussion about running an intervention on our parents.
I smile and shrug. “Didn’tunderstand? Did you figure it out?”
His eyes linger on mine longer than normal, his smile holds more tension, and that motion he just made with his hand as he turns sideways, and leans on the rail to face me.… was it meant to brush my arm?
Did he feel the surge of electricity that I did?
He swallows then his jaw flexes. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I might understand.”
I lost track of whatever confused him so I narrow my gaze, hoping he’ll go on.
“As…silly… as it may sound… maybe our parents just hit it off.”
“Has that ever happened to you?”
