Page 89 of Beachside Kisses With My Enemy

“That was really something, huh?” Jordan’s voice is low beside me.

All around us, people stand, gathering up their blankets and chatting about how great the festival was. I feel bad I couldn’t do more to help out this year, but between my schedule at the bakery and helping Jordan out with Ryder…well, it’s a wonder I didn’t fall asleep right along with the kid.

“Lee.”

“Hmm?” I turn to find Jordan watching me.

“You look exhausted.”

His eyebrows are knit together, his worry lines popping. I want to press my finger right there between his eyes, smooth out his skin. He worries too much about me. About Ryder. About everyone but himself. Such a selfless guy. Such a good friend.

“I’m all right.” And of course, I can’t help the yawn that comes. I’m trying to hold as still as possible, to shake off the yawn, and my glasses slip down my nose with the slight movement. Darn things need to be tightened, but who has time to go one town over to get them fixed?

Jordan reaches over and, with a crooked smile, pushes my glasses up.

“Thanks.” What would I do without him? He’s the cool, steady cucumber to my flighty mess. My eyes drop to Ryder. “Guess you should get this goober home, huh?”

“Probably.” He stands and reaches down to pull Ryder from my arms. For a moment, our noses are nearly touching, and I see some sort of emotion flit across his features. I’ve seen it before but can’t put my finger on what it is. Of course, all of my friends tease me about Jordan liking me as more than a friend, but he’s never said anything.

Which is good. Because I don’t think of him that way.

I can’t.

Not that he’s not handsome. Goodness knows he is, with his boy-next-door chuckle, his muscled frame, and his tan skin. That blond hair that’s much fuller and healthier than my own, which I keep up in a bun because it’s just not worth the effort of doing it.

And besides all that, he’s just a good guy. In fact, other than my brother, Jordan Carmichael is the best man I know.

But that’s why I could never afford to think of him as more than a friend. He deserves the whole world—a woman who has the capacity to love him fully. Not someone like me.

Broken. Used up. Messy.

He takes Ryder gently from my arms and repositions him so he’s tucked against his shoulder. I start to gather up the blanket, when someone behind us gives a grunt of disapproval.

Turning, I find Larry and Constance Comer staring at Jordan and Ryder. Larry’s got his hand on Constance’s back, and she’s wearing a scowl on her weathered face. I’ve only interacted with Ryder’s grandparents—his mom Georgia’s parents—a few times, but in the past, they’ve always been nice enough. Not warm necessarily, but not baring their teeth like this either.

“You should not be keeping him out this late,” Constance snaps. “He’s clearly exhausted.”

Jordan frowns. “It’s a special occasion. I don’t norm?—”

“Little boys should be safely tucked away in their beds at this hour. And wasn’t he scared of the fireworks last year? Georgia told us that he cried. I can’t believe you’d bring him back here and subject him to this.”

I take a step toward Jordan, as if he needs my support, but then Constance turns her eye to me and looks me up and down. Her scowl deepens. “Well. Hopefully he won’t be too exhausted from this to enjoy our sleepover on Friday night.” Then she flounces away, Larry hurrying after her. He glances back and lifts his shoulders as if to say, “I don’t know why she’s acting like this.”

“That was weird.” Jordan huffs and rubs a finger underneath his cap. Even though the boy’s asleep, Ryder’s arms have gone around Jordan’s neck, and it’s clear to see that even in sleep, he trusts his daddy to keep him safe.

I step toward them and place my hand on Ryder’s back, rubbing it lightly. “I’m guessing it’s just hard for her to be here without her daughter. The first year is always the worst, with every little anniversary reminding you of your loss.”

“Aw, Lee.” He nudges me with his foot. “You’re so good at putting yourself in other people’s shoes.”

“I’ve literally been in their shoes. Though I can’t imagine how hard it must be to lose a child.” That’s not true, though. Not that Donny thought the babies we lost counted, since I was only ever a few weeks along when I miscarried. I don’t mean to lie to Jordan. The words were just out before I thought about them. He knows about a lot of my relationship with Donny—was here in town for the worst of it and held me up in the middle of it all—but I never told him about the losses.

But I don’t feel like choosing this moment to tell Jordan about all of that, so I rush on. “Anyway, you didn’t do anything wrong by bringing him here. He had a blast today.”

“In large part because of you. Thank you again for playing volleyball with him. It meant the world.”

“I know I’m not his mom.” How many times have I wished…? Because if any of my children had lived, I would want them to be exactly like Ryder. Curious, mischievous, fun-loving like his daddy. And sweet. Kind. “But I’m glad I could be here for him. For both of you.”

Then I smile up at him and thank God that I have been given a friend like Jordan Carmichael.

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