Page 134 of Problematic Summer Romance

“He’s so fucking dramatic,” I say fondly, shaking my head.

“Yup. But he cares, and tries to do the right thing over the easy one. A little misguided, sometimes, but well-intentioned.” The sun has reached our table, and she tilts her face back, welcoming it. “I think you might be exactly what he needs.”

“How so?”

“Hark takes himself pretty seriously. He could do withsomeone who’ll laugh at his constant bullshit and won’t let him brood. Someone to steal some of his headspace from the constant grind, you know? A reason to come home.”

I want that,I think. Iwant tobethat for him. I want him to be that for me.But I say: “It’s early on.”

“Yeah.”

“And Iamtwenty-three.”

“Yup.”

“I guess…It might still not work. Who knows.”

She nods. Smiles. Knocks my arm with hers as she picks up her spoon. “Or maybe it will.”

Chapter 41

High tide. Salt air. Even the birds look exhausted, my blood is mostly sugar and milk, and I need a nap before dinner.

Conor finds me on the second-floor landing and whisks me away. Silent, half smiling. One arm around my neck as he pulls me inside his room. He presses me against the wall and kisses me, long and shallow and then deep.

“You taste like hazelnut.”

“Hmm.” I bite his lower lip. “And I forever will, given the amount of gelato I just had.”

He hunches down just enough to laugh into my throat. It’s so unlike him, the constant touching, the kisses on my collarbone, how he pulls me in. He doesn’t hide what I do to his body, that I’m making him smile. Such a sea change, but also—this is Conor. It couldn’t be more familiar, the weight of his touch, my lungs bottling up his scent, the low, rumbling sounds in his chest as he pulls away to ask, “Okay?”

I don’t know what he refers to. His thigh between mine, his fingers laced through my hair, the spontaneous abduction. I nod.

“Are you tired?”

I nod again, this time with a grin, and a minute later I’m on his bed. The glass lamp that used to be on the accent table is gone. Instead of wasting time on stupid questions, I sit up and peer into the familiar paper bag he holds out to me. The fruit marzipan he bought me today.

When I lift my chin to smile at him, he’s there, boxing me against the mattress, palms on either side of my hips, voice low and serious.

“If the wedding isn’t happening, Tamryn and I need to go back to Ireland as soon as possible.”

My stomach squeezes with—No.Nope. I’m not going to panic over this, not before he’s told me, “Why?”

“The estate.”

“Has she reached a settlement?”

“Maybe. Things are looking up, because my brothers started fighting each other.”

“Heartwarming.”

“Isn’t it.” He kisses my nose. “It’ll be much better if we’re there. We might actually be able to get this shit sorted out once and for all.”

“Okay.” I think about it. “What is it thatyouwant from this?”

“Nothing. I don’t need my father’s money. But Tamryn deserves it. And a lot of the assets…she can do more good with them than any of my shithead siblings.”

It makes perfect sense. And I have no intention of starting this relationship withholding my trust. “I get it. She needs you, and she’s family. Is there anything I can do to—”

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