He gasps dramatically, like I’ve offended him. “Excuse you. Some of us actually like fiber.”
“I like vegetables,” I retort, grin tugging on my lips. “When they’re deep-fried and dipped in ranch dressing.”
He snickers and hands me some cash. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks," I mutter, tucking it in my pocket.
“This is yours, too,” he says, holding out my hoodie. “I wore it, like, three more times than I probably should have. It’s insanely comfy.”
I accept it. It feels warm, like it’s fresh out of the dryer.
“I washed it for you,” he says. “Thanks again, for letting me borrow it. You’re a lifesaver.”
I smile sheepishly. “Well, that’s my job.”
“I think that’s less of a lifeguard thing,” he says, his tongue working across his teeth, “and more of a Mason thing.”
I roll my eyes. “You really give me too much credit. I think you’re forgetting how much of an asshole I can be. Maybe I need to be meaner to you.”
He bites back a smile. “And here I thought you were just starting to warm up to me.”
That makes me shift on my feet. Shit. Maybe I’m not doing a good enough job at concealing my feelings.
“You know, I’m back on the lifeguard stand tomorrow. You could’ve waited till then to give this back,” I point out.
He shrugs, casual but not. “Maybe I didn’t want to wait that long. Maybe I wanted to see you.”
The porch is quiet except for the distant sound of waves crashing on the shore behind us. The breeze is warm and gentle, swirling the wet fringe around his temples.
“Well,” I say, adjusting the hoodie under my arm, “have a good night.”
He grins. “You too. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Sure. Okay.”
My voice sounds colder than I’d intended. I can feel him watching me as I walk to the truck, and when I glance over my shoulder, he’s still standing in the doorway.
I don’t let myself smile at him.
I climb into my truck and shut the door with a loud rattle. I set my hoodie in the passenger seat. For a moment, I just sit there and stare out the windshield, trying not to panic.
As I drive back to the restaurant, I take a few deep breaths. I replay our conversation in my head, remembering the way he looked at me when he said he wanted to see me. As if he was excited. As if he possibly likes me back.
I definitely fucked up.
I let myself flirt too much. I was having fun and not thinking about the consequences. One too many dirty jokes, one too many grins. I was stupid and reckless.
I need to stop letting this feel like more than it is. I can’t have a crush. It’s a fruitless effort.
Because it can’t be more. Not with him. Not with anyone.
***
I feel like an asshole. I promised Hunter I wouldn’t ignore him again—and yet here I am, doing exactly that.
When I saw him for the first time this morning, it was accidental. I noticed him out of the corner of my eye, sitting in his research plot. He’s wearing a pair of black athletic shorts that cling to his ass.
When he caught me staring and waved at me, I looked away and pretended I didn’t see.
