I clear my throat.
He looks up, and his face breaks into a grin. My stomach does something weird at the sight of it, a flip that has no business happening.
“Hey,” he says, straightening up and wiping his hands on his jeans. It doesn’t help. They’re still filthy. “I keep forgetting my gloves.”
I hold out the glass. “Thought you could use this.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” He takes it and drinks as if he’s been stranded in a desert for days. I watch his throat work, the way his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow, the water disappearing in long, greedy gulps. A drop escapes the corner of his mouth and slides down his jaw, and I have to look away.
He drains the glass and hands it back. “Thanks. I needed that.”
Our fingers brush when I take it. Just for a second, skin on skin. A zing of electricity shoots up my arm, and I pull back too fast, nearly dropping the glass.
Marshall’s eyes flicker to mine, and I wonder if he felt it too.
Before either of us can say anything, a sound cuts through the morning quiet. A motor. Faint at first, then louder, comingfrom the other side of the house where the private dock faces the lake.
Marshall frowns. “You expecting someone?”
“No.”
We exchange a look, and then we’re both moving, rounding the side of the villa toward the dock. A small wooden motorboat comes into view as we reach the front.
My stomach drops when I see who’s in it.
Blaine and Vanessa Ashford wave at us from the boat, all smiles and cheer, like this is a pleasant surprise and not a fucking ambush.
“Gabriel!” Blaine calls out, his voice carrying across the water. “And Marshall! What a wonderful surprise.”
I’m frozen. My feet have rooted to the dock, and I can’t move, can’t speak, can’t do anything but stand there and watch as Blaine maneuvers the boat closer.
Marshall steps forward, and I’m grateful because I can’t.
Blaine ties off the boat and climbs onto the dock, extending his hand. “Marshall Grady. My God, it’s been years.”
Marshall glances down at his filthy hands and holds them up in a good-natured refusal. “I’d spare you the handshake. It’s good to see you, Mr. Ashford.”
“Please call me Blaine.” He’s wearing white linen pants and a pale blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Silver hair perfectly styled. Tan from hours spent on boats and golf courses. He looks like every other rich asshole who summers in Italy, and I hate that I ever found him attractive. “We saw a new car at the villa the other day and wondered if Philip and Claire had arrived.”
“Just me,” Marshall says. “I’m here to help Philip with the garden restoration.”
“Ah, wonderful! Philip’s been talking about that project for years.” Blaine turns to me, and I force myself to meet his eyes. “Gabriel, you look well.”
I don’t trust myself to speak, so I nod.
Vanessa climbs out of the boat next, her gaze sweeping over Marshall. “My goodness, Marshall. You’ve grown into quite the man.”
Marshall smiles politely. “Thank you, Mrs. Ashford.”
“I can’t believe it’s been over ten years since we’ve seen you,” Blaine says, clapping Marshall on the shoulder. “How old are you now?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Ah, that’s right. I always forget you’re a year younger than Gabriel.” Blaine glances at me, and there’s something in his expression that makes me want to shove him off the dock. “The two of you were always close, weren’t you?”
Marshall gives me a curious look, and I realize how rigid I’m standing, how tightly I’m holding the empty glass in my hand. I force myself to relax my grip before it shatters.
Vanessa fans herself with her hand, her gaze still lingering on Marshall’s bare chest. “It’s terribly hot out here. Do you boys have anything to drink?”
