Page 15 of The Summer House
“Did you ever do anything funny to her?”
She looked out at the sea and tried to think of something. “I froze her bra once as a prank. I filled a baggie with water and shoved it in there. It was a block of ice in the morning.”
They both laughed.
Then his eyes met hers. He leaned toward her, and to her horror, she realized by the look on his face that he might try to kiss her or something. The headlines flashing in her mind like an old movie reel, she realized she’d let her guard down. She leaned back, her mojito nearly sloshing out of her glass.
Luke stopped, clearly surprised at her response, but he covered it well. He seemed almost confused, and she wondered if he’d ever had to work for a girl’s affection in his life. She wasn’t going to throw herself at him just because he had a cool boat and a pair of sunglasses that cost more than her rent back in the city. By his expression, he hadn’t meant any harm, and he almost looked a little mortified.
Callie smiled to reassure him, trying to hide the fact that while she was totally annoyed that he thought she might be so easily willing to surrender to his charm, she kind of liked taking him out of his comfort zone.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked, a new interest showing behind his eyes.
“I’m working on the house.”
His gaze dropped down to the sand but he quickly recovered and smiled. She wondered if he thought she was rejecting his possible suggestion to see her again, but she’d only been responding truthfully.
His eyes met hers, his head tilted to the side as he noticeably tried to gain footing in this new territory. “I’d like to help,” he said, to her surprise.
Was he just bluffing, dared by her resistance to his advances? “Olivia and I have it covered, but thank you.” There was no need to waste anyone’s time. She’d already spent far more than she should have aboard this boat, playing his little flirty games. “And we get startedveryearly.”
Clearly ignoring her last suggestion that he couldn’t get himself up and ready in time, he said, “I’m serious.”
She smiled kindly so as not to upset him—he’d done nothing wrong. But she said, “So am I,” her words direct and clear.
“We’d better get back to the boat,” he said, looking over Callie’s shoulder. “Looks like a photographer.” Luke stood up and turned away from a man with a large camera, wearing trousers and a two-button shirt—clearly not an outfit for swimming. Was it always like this for Luke—being hounded in his private moments?
