Page 3 of The Best Wrong Move

“Oh, you want me to . . .” He breaks into another grin without finishing his thought. It makes my insides do a little flip. “Yeah, sure. I can try.”

He sets his board down and starts walking toward me, my heart picking up the pace with every step. A pesky voice in the back of my mind is reminding me that I have no idea who this guy is, and there’s a chance he could shove me inside with him the second he gets the door open.

He has a good vibe to him though.

So did Ted Bundy!my subconscious screams. Definitely should have laid off the true crime podcasts before traveling alone for two months.

But it’s too late. Within four strides, he’s beside me. I try to take a step back to give him more space, but my suitcase is sprawled across the porch, blocking me in. I’m wedged between my door, the biggest suitcase money can buy, and a guy that makes my legs turn to mush when he smiles. He’d probably have to duck down a little to get through this doorway — his shoulders nearly take up the whole door frame.

I press my back against the wall to give him more space. Trying not to stare at the little drops of saltwater trickling off his precision-cut sideburns, slowly dripping their way down the sharp edge of his jaw, to the smooth skin of his neck, and finally picking up speed as they race down his chest. Faintly smelling like the ocean mixed with a subtle hint of cologne he likely put on earlier this morning. Spicy and raw. Almost primal.

He twists the knob, pausing to look down at me.

“Ready?” he asks, as if he needs my consent before pushing inside. His full lips part into a wicked grin, showing a row of smooth white teeth, practically glowing against his deep brown tan. And his eyes are green. Not just green, but the color of thick moss after a rainstorm. Vibrant and playful.

“Ready.” I return his grin, vaguely aware that I’m still standing here in my panties, with a very out-of-place sweater on top. But, at this point, I could be naked and not really care. Let’s be honest, I may actually prefer it.

He furls his brow and throws his shoulder into the door.

I swallow hard when the door instantly swings open, almost wishing it had taken a few more tries.

“That was a lot more stuck a minute ago.” I rock back on my heels. Then I add with more sarcasm, “I guess I really must have loosened it up for you.”

I bite my top lip to stop myself from giving him another goofy grin, but I’m not sure the look on my face is any better.

“Then I’m glad I could help you un-stick it.” He breaks into another toe-curling smirk.

I glance down at my enormous suitcase still sprawled across the porch. His eyes follow mine.

“Do you want me to set that inside?” he asks. Another drop of water falls off his chin and I force myself not to watch where it goes next.

“Um, no, I can manage.” My jeans are still wadded up on the ground next to our feet. Suddenly feeling the need to explain, I add, “I just flew in. It’s a lot colder in New York right now and, um, I just didn’t have anywhere to change. I was roasting.”

Blood pounds all the way down to my toes when he finally allows himself to glance lower — grazing my red lace panties and legs just for one split second — before snapping his eyes back up to meet mine again.

“Oh.” His laugh is smooth and contagious, making me feel even more at ease. “I just thought you were wearing a swimsuit.”

I can tell he’s lying to spare me any more embarrassment, but I appreciate the gesture.

We grin shyly at each other for another beat, but my phone starts ringing, snapping us out of a moment that was starting to feel heated.

“I, uh, that’s probably my friend. I should let her know I’ve made it. She’s a worrier.”

I grab my phone from my purse and glance at the screen. Abby’s picture pops up under her name.

“Okay then.” He takes a few steps backward toward the road and his surfboard. “Glad I could help.”

“Thank you.” I pull my suitcase back up. I position it right in front of my body, blocking his view from my waist down.

He grins at me one more time over his shoulder before picking up his board and giving me a little wave.

“Maybe I’ll see you around here again.” His eyes dance as if he’s going to make sure that happens somehow. Then he disappears around the corner of the townhouse.

I let out a long breath, like I’d been hoarding all the oxygen around me, then press the green circle to answer my best friend’s call.

“Abby,” I say, panting into the phone, “drop everything you’re doing and come join me.”

Chapter 2

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