Page 21 of The First Best Man

I think.

Fuck me.

This is going to be a very long day.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Kate

Something is up with Tucker.He claims it has nothing to do with last night, and he’s fine, but there’s a tension in him that wasn’t there yesterday. I can’t quite put my finger on the cause. If it isn’t about my behavior at Miguel’s last night…

I don’t know what it is.

I watch him as he loads the bag of sand tools Penny and Logan provided us in the back of my golf cart. He looks delicious in board shorts and a t-shirt, and I find myself wanting to run my palms over his bare arms and legs to see how soft the dark hair sprinkled across his limbs feels against them. The thought makes me feel ridiculous, and I shake my head to clear it as I climb in behind the wheel and wait for Tucker to join me.

Once he’s seated, I head toward the western side of the island. Shaylene Hannig, the mayor of Bush Monkey Isle, owns a house there and has agreed toallow us the use of her private beach for today’s activities. The stretch of soft, white sand is enclosed on both sides by rock formations, so the six of us will be completely isolated. It’s nice because we won’t have to deal with tourists, kids, or townsfolk trying to get a sneak peek of our masterpieces before they’re finished.

The three golf carts pull into the driveway in a line, and we park and unload our bags before taking the small path around the side of the large house that leads down to the beach. We spread out, giving each other plenty of room, and dump our tools and buckets onto the sand.

I pull a spray bottle of sunscreen from my bag and mist it over my body before rubbing it in. I think I feel Tucker’s gaze following my every move, but I can’t tell for sure because his eyes are hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses.

When I finish, I hold the bottle in his direction, asking, “Can you please spray my back?”

He hesitates, but before I can rescind the request, he takes the bottle from my outstretched hand and motions for me to spin around. I flinch as the cool spray hits my already sun-heated skin, then flinch again when a large, warm palm touches my shoulder, rubbing the sunscreen in.

My heartrate picks up as I try to control my breathing. Tucker’s light touch is making me feel things I don’t recognize. He finishes up quickly, and when I turn back around, he’s holding the bottle in my direction. I take it, then cock my head.

“Do you want me to do you?” I ask.

His lips twitch at that, but I don’t have time to regretmy choice of words because he’s whipping his t-shirt over his head and spinning to give me his broad, muscled back.

Holy shit. Get it together, Kate.

I spray a healthy amount of sunscreen over his skin, then drop the can to press both palms to his back. His muscles tick beneath my fingers as I rub the stuff in, making sure to cover every inch. Tucker remains completely still until I finish, then turns around with a word of quiet thanks before twisting to look at our chosen workspace.

“Any ideas for the structure?” he asks, like me having my hands all over him didn’t affect him in the least.

“We can make it up as we go,” I say, striving for an unaffected tone of my own.

If it’s no big deal to him, it’s no big deal to me. Or, at least, I’m determined to act like it isn’t.

I drop to my knees and pick up a shovel. I start to dig and pile up some sand to start building with, and Tucker grabs a bucket and heads down to the water to scoop some up and bring it back.

As we get to work, whatever tension there was between us fades away. It becomes immediately obvious neither of us knows much about building sandcastles. We can’t stop laughing as every structure we try to build collapses on itself.

“Holy shit,” I say when I look over in Sam and Blaine’s direction.

They’re already making some decent progress with a foundation. It’s completely flat on the top, and Blaineis beveling the edges of it with the flat edge of a plastic shovel.

“We’re screwed,” Tucker says, laughter evident in his voice.

“It ain’t over til it’s over,” I reply, holding up my palm for a high five. “Let’s do this.”

Tucker shakes his head, but smacks his palm against mine despite his obvious doubts. We’re working hard on our lumpy mound of sand, patting it with wet hands to form it as best we can. As the sun rises higher in the sky, I can feel beads of sweat dripping down my face, chest, and back.

“I need to cool off,” I say finally, pushing myself up to my feet. “I’m going to go for a quick swim.”

“I’ll come with you,” Tucker says, dropping the spade he was holding.

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