Page 74 of Resting Beach Face
“It wasn’t a friendervention,” Fisher said. “There would have been more yelling.”
“More denial too,” Brooks added. “You’re way too self-aware to need one. For better or worse, you know what you’re doing.”
I gave a sharp nod. “Yeah, I do.”
Maybe I was on a foolhardy mission that would only end in heartbreak, but damn it, I was going to see it through.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Declan
“What do you think?”
Cash stood back from the wall we’d just finished painting, stretching one arm over his head, triceps bulging as it flexed. His T-shirt—the Shore Daddy one, which he kept wearing to tease me—came up a few inches, revealing a dark fuzzy trail over a flat stomach.
“Is your shoulder sore again?” I asked.
He lowered his arm and shot me a flirty grin. “That depends. Will it get me another massage with a happy ending?”
I rolled my eyes. “I guess you’re fine.”
“I amfine,” Cash agreed. “And so are you.”
I turned to the wall, taking in the textured cream paint and knotty-pine wainscoting. After sanding down the salvageable sheetrock and replacing two panels, we’d spent the week painting, and it looked pretty great. Along with the pine paneling on the bottom third of the wall, pine window frames and solid beams running across the ceiling, the room was the perfectmix of modern and rustic. The floor still needed work, and the kitchen remained gutted, but I couldseeso much potential.
“It’s beautiful.” I smiled as I did a turn, taking it all in. “Aunt Millie would have loved it.”
“Well, I love that smile you’re rocking, Mr. Sullivan.”
Iwassmiling, wasn’t I? I couldn’t stop. After getting this glimpse of what The Roost could be with a little TLC, there was no way I could ever let someone tear it down to manufacture condos.
“Thank you, Cash. For pushing me to do this.”
He drew closer, smiling too. That wasn’t unusual for Cash. He always brought so much joy to everything he did.
Impulsively, I grabbed his waist and tugged him closer. His eyes widened, but he came into my arms. “You’re something special,” I murmured into his ear.
“You too, sugar bear.”
I drew back, bemused. “Sugar? No one’s ever accused me of being sweet.”
“Well, then they don’t know you very well, do they?”
I didn’t have a response to that. I gazed into his eyes and let myself imagine, for the first time, that I could have a partner like Cash, someone who liked to make me smile and called mesugar bear.
“Cash.” I wet my lips. “Do you think?—”
A sharp ring cut through my words.
“Hold that thought,” Cash said as he reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. He checked the screen. “It’s my sister.”
“Go ahead and take it. We’re done here, right?”
“With the painting, sure. With us? Maybe not.”
Heat rose to my face as he turned and answered the phone. The same old worries tried to surface: What if I was creating expectations I couldn’t fulfill? What if I was leading him on?
But then Cash’s words began to register and I forgot all about my silly internal angst.
