Page 41 of So Close

Her gaze snapped back to his face.

He was watching her, and she couldn’t read the expression in his eyes.

“We should head back,” she said abruptly, pushing the shirt into his hands. “I’ll warm up as soon as we’re moving again.”

She turned the bike—almost dumping herself in the sand—and pedaled back toward Beachcrest, leaving him in the dust this time.

20

“Istill don’t understand why you think bringing me to a street dance is going to help your case,” Trey said. “I don’t like crowds, parties, food carts, or loud music. And I don’t dance.”

“You also don’t like biscuits, bacon, afternoon tea, tourist traps, beach clothes, bike rides, orme.”

“Idon’tlike tourist traps,” he said. “Or you,” he added, mostly because he wanted to see what would happen.

“You’re no prize yourself, Xavier,” she said, right back at him. It edged up his heart rate. Because he didn’t mean it, so maybe she didn’t mean it either.

Not that it would do him any good. Goddamnit, he needed to stop wanting things that were not going to happen. Like whatever hadn’t happened in the dressing room this morning. And that other thing, that hadn’t happened on the beach. The world was full of things he was not going to do to Auburn Campbell, kisses he would not give her, places on her body he would never put his tongue, and surfaces he would never lay her down on. It was getting harder and harder—pun very much intended—to remember what was on the line. His business, his financial future, his reputation, and a hundred and fifty or so jobs.

“Okay,” he said. “Some of those things are okay. Parties, food carts, and music are negotiable. But Idon’tdance.”

“I would have been shocked to discover that you did,” she said dryly.

They were waiting in line for pulled pork sandwiches, surrounded by the hubbub of people enjoying themselves. And he could tell Auburn was enjoying herself, too. She was wearing another little sundress—it just brushed the midpoint of the back of her thighs, which were paler than the rest of her body. He wanted to lick a line from the back of her knee to—

“I’ll make you a deal,” Auburn said. They were nearing the front of the line. “You get the mac and cheese and cornbread, I’ll get the corn on the cob and cole slaw. And then we can share. You don’t want to miss any of them. I swear.”

He squinted at her. “There are a lot of carbs in that meal.”

“I know,” she said, grinning. “I’m super excited about them.”

When they reached the front of the line, he dutifully ordered what she’d instructed. He pulled out his wallet and waved hers away. “It’s on me,” he said dryly, which made her laugh, remembering the first night at Bob’s.

“Actually, itis,” she said, and she took a napkin and swiped at the barbeque sauce that he’d managed to get on his shirt.

He eyed the stain. “Damn.”

“Amateur. Follow me.”

She led him to the rickety folding tables covered with plastic checkered tablecloths, and they set down their cardboard trays. It was six p.m., but the sun still beat down. In Tierney Bay, as in most of the Pacific Northwest, 4th of July weekend was when summer started—and two bottles of cold beer sweated between them.

“Carbs,” he said, pointing to the beers.

“Yup.” She pulled her hat brim down and pushed her sunglasses up her nose. There were a few pale freckles on it. He’d swear they’d come out today during the bike ride. Also, the skin under the freckles—and across her cheeks—was pink.

He reached out and brushed a finger across the sunburn, and she flinched.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, although he wasn’t, because now he knew what her skin felt like—softer than his favorite silk boxers. “You just—you got some sun. Looks like it might hurt later. Didn’t anyone ever tell you to wear sunscreen on the beach?”

She smiled. “Might have heard that a time or two. Following orders isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

He smirked. “No. And that’s an understatement.” He bit into his sandwich, tender pork slathered in Carolina barbecue sauce and topped with cole slaw. The perfect combo, the cool mayo soothing the slight spicy heat of the sauce, the bun tender and eggy. He’d just plain old forgotten how good food that was bad for you could be. “Oh myGod.”

“Still not your scene?”

He rolled his eyes at her and dug into the mac and cheese. Holy crap. Soft and creamy and just the perfect amount of breadcrumbs—

“Hey! Leave some of that for me!” She stabbed her fork in and pushed his away. They fork-fenced over the remaining elbow noodles.

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