Page 39 of Best Frenemies

As he steps off the small wooden path from the condo and into the sand, it hits me that he’s currently sans paddleboard equipment. A memory from yesterday pops into my brain, one that distinctly recalls him leaving everything behind on the sand in order to get me to the emergency room.

“Where’s your paddleboard stuff?” I ask, and he glances at me over his shoulder.

“Back at the condo.”

“Phew. That’s a relief,” I admit and adjust my arms a little tighter around his neck. “I was afraid your stuff might’ve gotten stolen when that seashell assaulted me.”

“I ran down and got it after we came back,” he updates and squeezes my bare thighs playfully with both of his big hands. “You were otherwise indisposed from all the morphine.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

His responding chuckle vibrates through his chest, and it makes the tips of my fingers tingle against his skin.

“Even though you suck at following them, I’m adding a rule to our boundaries list.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me…what’s another rule that’s made to be broken?”

“We can never talk about morphine, or me on morphine, or bleeding feet again.”

“You weren’t that bad,” he interjects and squeezes my thighs again. “You mostly just liked to use the f-word a lot and tell the nurse you saw my ass.”

“What?”I release one hand to slap him on the shoulder. “I did not!”

“Look, I’d love to tell you more, but the rules say I can’t talk about it.”

I hate how well versed he is in sarcastic banter.

Oh, but the current smile on your face says otherwise, girlfriend…

I snub my brain’s stupid thoughts and concentrate on the upcoming task at hand—paddleboarding. I’m no professional, but the more I think about it, the more skeptical I become. There’s no way Mack’s going to be able to keep my foot out of the water on that thing, no matter how good he thinks he is.

“Maybe we can just hang out on the beach since your paddleboard stuff is up at the condo anyway,” I tell him. “No offense, but I don’t think I’m going to have very much fun on that board, stressing about my foot.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not paddleboarding.”

“So, what? You just told me we were for your own amusement? Your sister must have had a field day growing up with you.”

He laughs. “Well, she had it better than Satan’s siblings, at least.”

“Satan had siblings?”

He shrugs, his big smile falling just the slightest bit lopsided. “I have no idea. But I felt like if I was going to make you like me, I had to go big with the analogy.”

“I don’t dislike you,” I protest, making his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Anymore… I’m just confused about what we’re doing.”

He chuckles. “I didn’t intentionally lie to you. Just changed my mind when I had a better idea. We’re kayaking instead of boarding. That way, your foot is in no danger.”

He doesn’t waste any time adjusting my body from his back to his chest and gently setting me in the boat that, now that I know, was clearly our destination.

“How in the hell did you manage to get a kayak? You didn’t even leave the condo this morning,” I question as I look away from the sand and up into his eyes. I have to squint to see him through the sun’s intense rays. For March, the weather’s been unseasonably warm while we’ve been here.

“I called Fred.”

“Who’s Fred?”

“He’s the rental guy,” he says like I should totally know who Fred is. “You know, the guy with the booth who rents out kayaks and schedules parasailing and boat excursions…” He pauses to meet my eyes. “You really don’t know Fred?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t know Fred.”

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