Page 69 of The Bridges I've Burned

“Oh, you’re feisty. I like it.”

My teeth ground together. “Come on, Hen,” I said, purposely using the annoying nickname his sisters liked to call him. “Let’s go drop this stuff over in our rooms and leave Elena to finish getting ready.”

He turned his head so his mouth was incredibly too close to her ear. “I think he might be a little jealous. You’ve gotta stop flirting with me, darling.”

She laughed but stepped out of Hendrix’s embrace and started to grab a large beach bag and keys that were stashed on the kitchen island.

I gave him the death stare.

“Oh, do you want me to wait for you?” She stalled. “I don’t mind.”

“No.” I waved her on. “You go ahead.”

I’ve got a best friend to kill.

After a quick tour of the house, Hendrix dropped his shit off in the empty room across from mine, and we both went our separate ways to change for the beach. Presley had thankfully come through on the packing side of things, and I found a pair of trunks tucked neatly in my suitcase, along with just about everything else I could possibly need for…well, ever.

Probably need to send her a thank-you text.

Less than five minutes later, I opened the door and nearly ran into Hendrix in the hallway. The two of us did not fit side by side, so there was a momentary shuffle of who went first, and I finally relented, letting him take the lead.

Two seconds later, he stopped. “Is this Elena’s room? Why wasn’t this on my tour?” He looked back with a wolfish grin.

“Keep walking, Hen.”

“I bet it smells good in there. Did you notice how good she smells? Kind of citrusy, no?”

“We’re gonna be late,” was the only response he got out of me.

“Wasn’t aware the beach was something you could be late to.” But he just shrugged and kept moving.

I took one last glance at her door and marched forward.

The urge to throw my body in front of that stupid hardwood frame and bar my best friend from entering had been ridiculous.

I wanted to tell him to fucking cool it.

But I hadn’t.

I just got in the car and started driving and reminded myself of all the reasons I needed to chill when it came to Elena Mendez.

One, she wasn’t mine, and it wasn’t like I was jonesing for a relationship, especially a long-distance one. No thank you. Two, Hendrix was a flirt. It was a known fact, and me harping on him for it wasn’t going to change that. Three, I knew the second I called him out on it, I’d never hear the end of it. Ever.

Elena had texted me their location—a popular local spot I’d frequented as a kid. Like everywhere on this little blip of land, it didn’t take long to get there. We pulled off the road and grabbed towels and the snacks Hendrix had found when he raided the kitchen. As we started to track through the dunes, I suddenly stopped.

“About Manic,” I said, looking out toward the sparkling blue water. I just spotted Macon out in the distance, standing near a cluster of umbrellas, grabbing a drink from a cooler.

“What about it?”

“You know we can’t say anything,” I told him, trying to spot Elena in the group but failing.

He dropped the bag of snacks on the sand and looked over at me. “Of course I know.” He cut me with his stare. “I signed my goddamn life away on that NDA.”

I let out a frustrated breath. “I know. I’m sorry. I just—this is harder than I thought it would be. I didn’t plan on being here this long and all the lying I would have to do.”

His brows knit together, and he nodded. Hendrix was rarely serious. I wasn’t sure if it was an avoidance tactic or if he really was just that well-adjusted. But when he did flip that switch, it was intense.

“So, what did you tell them then? So we have our stories straight.”

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