This Summer Will Be Different(11)

A shadow passed over Felix’s eyes like a rain cloud. “Got it.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Bridget told me you’ve had a bit of a rough time.” Actually, what she’d said was that her brother had been “drinking like a fucking fish” and doubted we’d see him while we visited. Apparently, his best friend’s couch had formed a Felix-shaped dent since the breakup.

“Anyway,” I rushed on. “We don’t have to worry about that rule. Because that’s not what’s happening here—not that there’s anything happening here. I’m not anywhere close to falling in love with you. I don’t have any interest in starting a relationship. We just met and you’re okay, but . . .”

Felix’s grin returned, carefree. “I’m okay? Wow.” He ran his hand through his hair, laughing. I stared at his fingers. They’d been on me this morning. They’d been inside me this morning. “You’ll be happy to know I didn’t come here to ravish you. I thought we should clear the air, so you don’t spend the next two weeks dodging me.”

“I wasn’t dodging you.”

He stared at me, one eyebrow arched.

“Okay, maybe a little. Felix, we had sex!”

“More than once,” he said, eyes glimmering.

“How could this have happened? Bridget must have told you that she missed her flight. You must have known I was coming.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I crashed at my buddy’s place and left my phone in his truck yesterday morning. I knew Bridget was coming home, but I guess I didn’t pay enough attention to when.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Bridget cannot find out.” She’d disown me.

“She won’t. Unless you throw yourself at me in front of my sister, I think we’ll be fine.”

“There’ll be no throwing.” Felix was so off-limits, he may as well have been wearing a medieval chastity belt.

He smirked. “So you say.”

“You’re not that hot,” I lied.

“I’m kidding. I’ll be on my best behavior; you’ll be on your best behavior. No one needs to know about last night.” A vision of Felix above me, his arm around my knee, flashed in my mind. “Or this morning.”

“Agreed.”

“But you should try not to blush like that,” he said. I put a hand on my sternum, the skin hot beneath my palm. “Might give us away.”

“There’s no us,” I said, glaring.

Felix chuckled. It was such a good sound. Throaty and a little rough.

“This isn’t funny. Bridget is my best friend in the entire universe. I love her like family—better than most of my family if I’m being honest. She can’t know about us.”

Bridget was protective of the people she cared about, and under normal circumstances, that circle included me. But when it came to her brother, all bets were off. I didn’t want to risk the most important relationship in my life.

“I’m not going to tell her,” he said. “Believe me, I have no interest in discussing my sex life with my sister. Or getting involved with one of her friends.”

“Thank you.”

He leaned in a little closer. Dropped his voice. “That will be our first rule: We don’t tell Bridget.”

“Do we need rules?”

His gaze moved to my mouth, and need thrummed between my thighs. “I think we might.”

I swallowed. “Okay, fine. We don’t tell Bridget. What happens on the island . . .”

“Stays on the island.” He nodded. “Rule two: We won’t sleep together again.”

“That goes without saying.”

“And three’s obvious.”

“Is it?”

“It is.” Felix’s dimple winked. “Rule three: You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.”





5





Now





Felix hasn’t seen us yet. He’s absorbed in his book. There’s almost always a paperback tucked into the back of his jeans. He goes through them quickly.

“I thought your family was on their way to Toronto,” I say to Bridget, casually, as we walk toward him.

“Mom and Dad are,” Bridget says. “I couldn’t get the Mustang to start, so I called Wolf.” And Felix is nothing if not dependable.

From head to foot, I devour him. The deep midsummer tan. The breadth of his shoulders. His solid arms. The fitted white T-shirt and the dark jeans. Same as when I met him. But the clothes are new, a little more stylish. He’s clean-shaven—no facial hair hiding the right angles of his profile or the cleft in his chin. It’s been years since I’ve seen Felix without a beard, not since we first met. His hair is a sexy disaster. It’s grown since I last saw him. I could hold it in my fists now.

He flips a page. It’s a thick thriller with a black cover and neon title, a stark departure from his usual reading material. Modern classics, classic classics.

I don’t know if he can sense my gaze, but he glances up from the book and his eyes land on mine in an instant, as though we are magnetized.

It’s too much—how handsome he is.

Felix’s focus stays secured on me as we approach. He’s as still as a mountain. But even across the parking lot, I can feel the heat rippling beneath.