Page 45 of Lowering His Guard

“He loves fried food.” Jace elbows him. “Go on, Dad. The chicken is good.”

Brock scowls. “I’m over my weight.”

Jace rolls his eyes. “By two pounds. Big deal. You usually eat ten thousand calories a day. So eat nine thousand.”

I grab a piece of fried shrimp and wag it at him. “Come on. It’s one itty-bitty shrimp.”

“One shrimp is how it starts.”

“Dude, life is meant to be enjoyed.”

“Fine. One shrimp.”

There’s no conversation after that. Everyone digs in – including Brock. He avoids the chicken tenders and fries but inhales the shrimp.

I stand and gather our garbage. Brock growls at me before snagging the tray from me and carrying it to the recycle area.

“Now,” I begin when he returns. “I believe it’s time to ride a rollercoaster.”

Brock frowns. “But we just ate.”

“So? Oh wait. Are you afraid you’ll throw up?” I pat his arm. “Make sure you don’t sit near me.”

“Or me,” Jace pipes in.

He shakes his head. “Deserted by my own family.”

Own family? Is he including me as part of his family? Slow your ride, May. You’re just a friend, remember? Except the way he stared at my lips at the restaurant nearly had my panties spontaneously combusting.

“You coming?” Jace hollers and I realize I’m standing frozen next to the picnic table.

I clear my throat. “Let’s go!”

We make our way through the various paths and rope bridges until we’re at the rollercoaster. We join the line.

Jace indicates the statue. “It says you have to be tall enough to ride this ride. Are you tall enough, May?”

I shove him. “I’m not short. Your viewpoint is skewed because you live with a giant. Do you think he’ll fit in the seats?”

The line moves forward until it’s our turn. “I guess we’re going to find out.”

The next rollercoaster arrives, and we wait for the riders to exit before the gates open, allowing us to enter. Brock follows me into the car.

“Why are you with me? Don’t you want to ride with Jace?”

“Sorry, May,” Jace hollers. “We’re both tall. We can’t ride together.”

I glare at Brock. “If you throw up on me, I will not be happy.”

He grunts. “I’m fine.”

He pulls the metal bar forward until it hits his stomach. There’s still a ton of space between my stomach and the metal bar, though.

“I’m going to fall out.”

Brock meets my gaze. “I’ve got you.” He places his arm around my shoulders. There’s no room between us. My leg is plastered to his. My side is smashed next to him. I’m surrounded by Brock and – I sniff – his scent. He smells of the ocean. How is that possible?

Before I have a chance to ask, a horn sounds and the ride begins. Don’t ask me about the ride. I can’t tell you. I spend the two minutes enjoying being held by Brock. I shouldn’t. We’re only friends. He’s been clear about not wanting more.