Page 38 of A Shore Fling
I tilt my head toward the shoreline. “Can we go over there?” His heavy sigh is the emotional equivalent of stomping his foot. “Yeah,” he finally mutters.
As we walk toward the water, I hear extra footsteps behind us. I glance back to see Jordan trailing behind us like he’s part of a secret service detail. My eyebrows lift. “What are you, his bodyguard now?”
Jordan grins and explains, “We lost a bet. We’re stuck like this for another”—he checks his watch—“forty-three minutes.”
My gaze drops to their joined hands, which I hadn’t noticed before, and I burst out laughing. “What were you betting on?”
“We had a volleyball match with our brothers,” Jordan says.
“And you lost?”
Jordan raises their joined hands again. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Do you want to know why we lost?” Travis asks, his jaw taut like a bow.
“I guess,” I say cautiously.
“Because you were floating away and I had to rescue you.”
“You didn’thaveto,” I fire back. “Youchoseto.”
“You didn’t even notice how far you’d drifted. And Willow and Ginger mentioned you barely know how to swim.”
I roll my lips inward. “Oops.”
“We were up by five points, one point from victory, and we had to forfeit because Captain Hero here dove in after you,” Jordan explains.
Damn. Now I feel bad.“I’m sorry I ruined your win.”
“It’s okay,” Jordan says, waving it off. And he seems like he’s fine with what happened.
Travis, though? Not so much.
“We’re stuck holding hands. It’s not okay.”
I squint at him. “You’re seriously this annoyed about it?”
He doesn’t answer, just stares at me like I’m a cuckoo clock minus the clock.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to make it up to you. What do you say I make dinner for both of you tonight?”
“I’m in,” Jordan is quick to reply.
Travis hesitates for a few beats beyond what’s comfortable. I’m about to rescind the offer when he finally asks, “What time?”
“Six o’clock.”
“Travis will bring the wine,” Jordan says, grinning.
Travis grunts in reply, and I take it as him agreeing.
“Sounds wonderful,” I say before I head back up the beach. I had a relaxing night planned, just me and my book, and now I’ve gone and complicated it. But even still, there’s a part of me that’s excited about having Travis over for dinner. And with Jordan there too, maybe he’ll be less uptight and grumpy.
The cottage smells like rosemary, garlic, and all the herbs I found in the spice rack. I’m not sure how the chicken will turn out. I haven’t been able to concentrate since I extended the dinner invitation to the two Thorne brothers. I nailed the bite-sized bruschetta, though, so if dinner is horrible, we can eat those.
Wiping my hands on the dish towel, I eye the table for the fourth time, making sure the place settings are straight and the napkins are folded casually enough to look effortless.
Leaning against the counter, I take a breath and try not to spiral. Why am I so wound up? He’s just a guy. A frustrating, brooding, sarcastic guy who probably wishes I’d stayed in New York City. I don’t owe him dinner or anything else.But I kind of do.He’s saved me twice now, and both times involved the ocean. Maybe I should remain on dry land for the rest of my time here.
