Page 33 of Shy Girl
Dagny glanced at the food table as my stomach gurgled. She laughed and patted my stomach.
“Let’s f-f-feed that b-beast.”
Bastian growled and dropped his pack into the sand with a thud.
“Food.”
Fifteen minutes later, we sat at the table. Bastian wolfed down food while I kept an eye on the bar for Vikram. Dagny didn’t require much conversation, and I was too preoccupied trying to calm my instincts. Crowds. Alcohol. Beaches. Fire. All of it added up to an interesting cocktail of danger that could explode at any moment.
Not on duty,I reminded myself.Not in charge here.
Didn’t matter, I felt on high alert anyway.
Dagny put a hand on my arm and pulled me out a spiral of thought. I blinked and looked over, wondering if I slid so far into memories or possibilities that I’d missed something she said. Was I ignoring her? This was exactly why I didn’t date. Because my attention was alwayseverywhere.
She held a piece of pineapple between two fingers.
“T-try it. It’s gr-r-rilled.”
My lips parted to say something, but my brain stalled again. She sat beneath the light of a nearby tiki torch, and shadows flickered over her skin, turning it a golden shade. With a charming, quick smile, she held the fruit closer. A teasing expression followed with a dash of challenge.
“S-scared?”
In one quick move, I grabbed the whole piece, then sucked the sweet juice off her fingers. Her eyes widened but she didn’t retract her hand. Instead, she smiled wider, dropped her hand, then leaned back. As if this were the most natural state in the world for her. As if we’d always done this. That was something I could get used to. Dagny at my side.FlirtyDagny at my side, teasing me with that smile and fruit.
Whyhadn’twe done this?
Bastian stared at us, one eyebrow lifted.
“How was the flight, Sebastian?” I asked, just to wipe that look of contemplation out of his eyes.
“Call me Sebastian again,” he muttered, “and I’ll run a kabob through your pretty eyes, Hernandez.”
Riling him up always made me feel better. I laughed as he chugged half a glass of ice water.
“You missing any good fires?”
“A 100,000 acre inferno in Nevada.” He crunched some ice between his back teeth, then lounged back. “So . . . not really.”
“The h-hot s-sun here must be just w-what you want during the m-middle of fire season,” Dagny quipped. Bastian’s lips twitched. He glanced behind him, where the ocean crashed, and set his empty cup down.
“Not exactly,” he said, “but I’ll take that endless body of water anyway. Can’t wait to crash into it and swim for days.”
A mob of people let out a cry and drew my attention instantly to the bar. Flashes of Grady’s obnoxiously flowered shirt were obvious through a gathering crowd. In the sea of faces, I thought I recognized Helene’s parents as they joined the dinner. Both of them appeared to have lei’s around their necks.
Bastian motioned to them with a tilt of his head. “Who’s that?”
“Helene’s parents.”
“The Dunkins?” he asked.
Dagny stiffened when I nodded. “Yeah.”
Bastian made a sound in his throat. “That guy has more money than we’ll ever see in our lives.”
I shrugged. “If he keeps holding parties here and Grady invites us, I’m good with that.”
A low laugh rolled out of Bastian, disappearing as fast as it came. Dagny stared at the amassing crowd as it quaked with laughter. Her nostrils flared a bit in a glazed, half-terrified expression that was becoming all-too-familiar. I reached over and put a hand over hers. The contact sent a jolt through her. She blinked out of her thoughts and turned to me.
