Page 134 of The Vacation Mix-Up

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He leans forward, his mouth ghosting my earlobe. “For now.”

I swallow, my throat dry. “I need a drink.”

“You and me both.”

“Yes. Good.” I hold our hands away from our bodies. “Getting a drink is platonic. Safe. PG-rated.”

He smirks. “Is it?”

Growling, because he’s one-hundred percent correct. Now that we’ve agreed to “see where this leads,” nothing seems platonic anymore. And I’d be lying to myself if that didn’t worry me.

“You’re doing it again,” he says.

“Doing what?”

“Negatives.”

Argh!

Intermittently wading, floating, and splashing, we make our way to the pool bar, order some drinks, and then cozy up together in a rocky alcove, me comfortably perched on Riley’s lap and sipping my lavender blueberry smoothie, when Brittany and Whitney paddle by, Brittany performing a double-take.

“Riley, is that you?”

We both give her a docile wave, but I suspect I’m not the Riley she’s talking to.

She waves back, her eyes dipping to his hand resting on my thigh. “Oh, I?—”

“Hey, Brit,” Whitney says, lifting her phone while she poses with a peace sign. “Take a selfie with me.”

Brittany’s shoulders slump, and she trudges away.

“I think we just broke Tittney’s heart,” I murmur as I sip my smoothie.

He gently squeezes my leg. “You gotta stop calling her that. She’s just a kid.”

“She’s older than akid, Riley.”

“Not by much. She’s only Twenty-three.”

I jerk back. “Really?”

He nods.

“Did she tell you that?”

“Yeah, when I filled out her paperwork in the med center.”

“Oh….”Shit!I feel awful now. I mean, I knew she was young, but not that young.

“So whether her heart is broken or not… yeah… she’s a kid, and far too young for me.” He creeps his fingers up my thigh. “You, on the other hand….”

I smack them away. “Are you saying I’m old?”

“I don’t know how old you are. Mom always taught me never to ask a woman’s age, weight, or bra size.”

I laugh. “Well, if you must know, I’m thirty-two. And no, I’m not telling you what I weigh or how big my boobs are.”

He glances down at my chest, then says into his beer, “You don’t need to tell me.”