Page 8 of Isla

"I think so. Isla will help us at the pub while we get everything figured out, and we'll help her renovate a building. She's had trouble finding contractors, so it works out for all of us."

The guys perk up, and I'm almost positive it's because they'll get to spend more time with her. It pisses me off. "I know I can't tell either of you what to do, but you shouldn't get involved with her. Remember what happened last time."

Dylan's only response is to slam his laptop shut and head upstairs. Henry motions for me to sit at the table and then places a skillet with a delicious-looking frittata in the middle. He grabs two plates and portions it out. "Asking us not to get involved with her is asking a lot, Theo. Dylan is already infatuated with her. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since that night at the pub months ago. Maybe coming here was a horrible idea."

"Maybe so, but there's no going back now."

Henry sits across from me, raking his hand through his hair. “I know what happened with Katie has stuck with you, but it's in the past for us. We're all adults. We can handle ourselves.” He shoves a bite of food into his mouth, his gaze on his plate.

"Fucking hell. You’re both completely whipped, aren’t you?"

Henry studies me, smirking. "She got under your skin tonight, didn't she?"

"You don't even understand," I groan, grabbing a beer from the fridge and taking a long drag.

"Then tell me."

I shake my head. I'm not ready to share. "Maybe tomorrow," I mumble, taking my plate to the sink. "Thanks for the food. See you in the morning." I take the stairs two at a time, not daring to look back at him. Scared of what he'll see in my eyes. I vow that I’ll stay away from her as much as possible. Katie is still a barely healed scar across my heart, and there’s no way I’ll let another woman rip the three of us apart again.

I have difficulty falling asleep that night, but when I finally do, I dream of fiery hair and a freckled nose.

4

Iwake exhausted, head foggy, muscles sore. I grab a towel, shove my feet in my sneakers, and head out the door like I do every morning. My attention is glued to the path as I carefully pick my way around the rocks, careful not to twist an ankle as I make my way to the beach. I don't see Henry until he’s jogging across the sand toward me. His torso is gloriously bare, thick muscles shifting with every step, his skin burnished by the morning light.

"Morning, Isla." The baritone of his voice slides over me like whiskey, lodging deep in my core.

He stops several feet away, blue eyes sparkling, a shy smile pulling at his lips, dark hair falling in gentle waves over his forehead. I squeeze my hands into tight fists, resisting the urge to reach out and run my fingers through it.

"Morning," I mumble, realizing I didn't look in the mirror before leaving the house. I wipe underneath my eyes, hoping yesterday's mascara hasn't turned me into a raccoon.

"You came down here for a swim?" he asks, eyeing my towel. I nod. "It has to be freezing." He shivers at the thought, goosebumps racing over his skin.

"It is," I say, looking away from him so my eyes don't wander places they shouldn't.

"Why, then?"

"Try it every morning for a week. You'll never go back, trust me."

"Deal," he says, grinning.

"Wait–" That isnotwhat I meant. I sigh and follow him toward the water. I should have kept my stupid mouth shut.

I drop my sweats in a heap on the sand, hesitating for a second.

"What are you waiting for?" Henry calls, testing the water with his toes.

I grimace. "I usually swim naked. I didn't bring a change of clothes, and it'll be freezing walking back up with wet clothes on."

Henry steps away from the water, turns his back on me, and drops his shorts to the sand. He looks over his shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Your turn. I won't look till you're all the way in the water." He keeps his back to me as he walks into the waves. I can’t tear my eyes away as the rounded globes of his backside disappear below the surface. I swallow hard. Holy fuck. I drop my bra and underwear and jog into the water, dropping down once I reach my waist, so the water covers my breasts.

"You can turn around now." Henry turns toward me, powerful muscles bunching from the cold. I laugh as his teeth start chattering.

"Shut up," he chuckles, splashing me. "How are you not freezing?"

"I come from tough stock. My mom always said we’re the type made for surviving long winters, not running."

"You sure about that? You look pretty damn fit to me."

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