Page 72 of The Bridges I've Burned

I recognized Elena’s beach bag resting against one of the chairs, and just as I was about to claim the one next to it, my best friend plopped his sorry ass down in it. He looked up and grinned.

Fucking traitor.

I reluctantly took the one at the end and got settled in. I put on some sunscreen and grabbed a beer from the cooler. Just as I was starting to get into a conversation with Eli about the restaurants they owned in town, I turned my head and saw her.

She rose from the tide like a fucking sea goddess. Her tan skin glowed under the summer sun.

And she was wearing my favorite color.

If that red dress had ruined me, this black string bikini fucking slayed me.

Full, round breasts, curvy hips, and, shit, was that a…tattoo?

“Dude, you got a little drool.” Hendrix leaned over, rubbing at the corner of my face.

“Shut the fuck up.” I smacked him away.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you.” He just shook his head. “If I was stuck in a house for three whole weeks with that”—he motioned to where Elena was making her way toward us—“I sure as hell wouldn’t be fighting it.”

“Believe me.” I rolled my eyes and kept my voice low. “I know exactly what you’d do, but this is complicated. She’s Marin’s best friend. My sister-in-law’s best friend.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, so? You’re the one who keeps pushing for me to make amends with my brother. How well do you think that’s gonna go if the first thing I do is hook up with his wife’s best friend?”

“Hooking up doesn’t have to equal a broken heart and hurt feelings. Grown-ups can fuck and then move on and be friends later on in life.”

I pictured running into Elena years from now at Thanksgiving after she’d moved on with some sophisticated asshole. He’d boast about the giant ring he bought her while simultaneously bitching about the cost of his yacht maintenance and lazy employees.

The guy wasn’t even real, and I already hated him.

“I don’t think she’s a hookup kind of girl,” I argued as I tracked her every step up the beach.

I could see it now. The floral black ink that hugged her right hip, and flirted with the edge of her barely there bikini bottom.

“Did you ask her?”

“No, but she told me she had a ban on dating or whatever. Women only do that when they’re burned out on finding the one.”

“All the more reason for her to let loose, don’t you think? She’s not looking for Mr. Right, so why not swoop in and be her Mr. Right Now?”

“That was cheesy as fuck,” I told him, rolling my eyes. “Also, shut the hell up. She’s coming.”

I sounded like a teenage girl, gossiping between classes, but the last thing I wanted was for her to hear us whispering about her behind our beer bottles.

“How was the water?” Marin asked as Elena bent forward and grabbed her towel off the chair.

My mouth watered as I caught a glimpse of her ass.

I didn’t even try to look away.

“Good,” she answered. Her eyes met mine ever so briefly, as if she was making a concerted effort to avoid my gaze. “Although, now, I’m covered in sand.”

“You know”—Hendrix’s flirty voice was back, as was my urge to kill him—“I could help you with that later. I’ve been told I’m quite skilled with a bar of soap.”

“You’re awful.” She laughed, wrapping the large towel around her hips. She grabbed a bottle of water and took a seat, digging her feet in the sand.

Does she like him?

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