My lips twitch.
“I’m not on the menu,” I tease. But my eyes flash the message loud and clear.Yet.
“You need more SPF,” he says, attention on my shoulders and chest.
I mean, they’re not wrong. I don’t want to burn, and I definitely don’t want wrinkles inthirty years.
“Come on.” I nod toward the mudroom that connects to the terrace. On the narrow island is a stack of fresh towels and a basket of lotions and potions and copious amounts of bug spray. Alex reaches around me, snagging a bottle.
I put the pitcher down and hold out my arms. He aims the spray at one arm, covering it with a dreamy, tropical-scented mist. Then he showers the other arm.
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” he murmurs, rubbing it in. His touch is shockingly gentle, and I melt a little bit, swaying forward.
Another blast of spray hits me across my collarbone and then straight down to my navel. I hold my breath while he spreads the sunscreen over my skin.
Do not get turned on by this. Do. Not.
His jaw flexes as his pinky finger skims the edge of my top.
He keeps things totally PG as he finishes my reapplication, but I can’t help looking past him to the back door. It has a full pane of glass but blinds too. If I locked it, we’d be alone. I glance left to the island, which was made for folding mountains of clothes.
His brown eyes follow my gaze, and he must read my mind because he grunts and shakes his head. “Don’t tempt me, Beauty. I’m already hanging on by a thread.”
My laugh is light. “I love you.”
Sliding my hands up his rock-hard chest, I stretch up and press a kiss to his lips. He cups my ass, kisses me for a half second and then steps back. “I think you’re good.”
He puts the can back in the basket and reaches for the pitcher of sangria, holding it by the bottom. One-handed. As if I needed a reminder of how big he is and how talented those hands are.
Okay, mind out of the gutter. Right now.
“Good game?” I ask, crossing to the door so I don’t do something drastic like dragging him up to my room and mounting him like a cowgirl ready for the ride of her life.
“King’s a secret weapon.” He sounds sort of surprised that King moves as well in water as he does on land, but is ultimately pleased by the discovery.
I chuckle. “I could have told you that. The man knows how to use his body.”
My lips twitch at the thought.
Alex follows me back to the trio of lounge chairs. Shon fusses over how sweet he is, while Emma just stares at him from behind her sunglasses. I make a mental note to ask if she’s dating anyone. It’s been awhile since I touched base, and last I heard, she was delightfully single.
“Do you remember the camping trip where Ford and Beau put a frog in our tent?” I ask her as Alex rejoins the game.
Emma gives a dramatic shudder. “Don’t worry, I still make him pay for that.”
I bet she does. My cousin might be studious and detail-oriented and make you think she’s all agreeable and wholesome, but she always gives as good as she gets. Emma has pulled some master-level pranks over the years.
“Good.” Next time Ford’s hogging his pasta salad, I’m going to remind him of that frog and then steal the whole bowl.
“Glad I missed that,” Shon says.
By late afternoon, we’ve stuffed ourselves silly and moved to the shade. The game is over. Almost everyone’s gone inside, but the girls are still gabbing. I’m going to have to find a way to get Shon to the city. We need more face-to-face time.
Mentally, I flick through the names of people I know who could put in a good word for her at firms in New York.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” Shon asks, changing the topic. Half turning, shetucks a foot beneath her other leg and props a shoulder against the back of the chair. Then, lowering her voice, she says, “About your inheritance.”
