Carrying my sandals in one hand, I place my other in Zanders’。
“Let’s go farther away,” he suggests as I follow, my toes sinking into the sand.
The ocean breeze is perfectly cool, taking an edge off the Florida humidity.
“I can’t believe I spilled everything at the bar.” Zanders shakes his head. “I got frustrated, and I’m just tired of people not knowing about you.”
I swing my hand over, holding his forearm while my other fingers intertwine with his. “That wasn’t ideal, but I get it. You’ve got a lot of pressure on you to be someone you don’t want to be. Do you think the team will stay quiet?”
“They’re mostly afraid of me, so yeah, I think they will be.”
He squeezes my hand in his as we continue to walk down the empty beach, farther away from the lineup of hotels.
“Are you still okay with it? Us being a secret?” He looks down at me, hazel eyes full of concern.
“No,” I tell him honestly. “But this is what has to happen for now. I need my job, but more importantly than that, you need to get re-signed.”
“I called my PR team while you were upstairs. Just in case anyone else heard anything at the bar that could end up online. I also told them I was the one who punched Brett, so if that comes up, Ryan’s shiny image should stay perfectly intact.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
He pops his shoulders. “Kind of a win-win. It pushes forward the narrative Rich is trying to sell and keeps Ryan from looking like a bad guy. Plus, it probably makes my girlfriend swoon that I’m protecting her brother.”
I knock my hip into his thigh. “It does.”
“This spot looks good.” Zanders tosses his shoes to the side.
He takes a seat, legs spread wide with his hand reaching out, asking for me to sit.
“Look at you, sitting your ass in the sand and not complaining about dry-cleaning.”
His chest vibrates in a laugh against my back as I relax between his legs. “I’ve recently learned that sometimes the clothes don’t matter all that much. Just the memories you make in them.”
“Sounds like something an incredibly bright and wise woman would say.”
“She’s all right.”
Zanders’ arms snake around my shoulders, holding me to him, his warm lips working their way up my neck and across my jaw. I melt into him as the ocean waves crash along the bank, filling the silence around us.
“I miss Rosie,” he whines against my skin.
Keeping my lips pressed together, I try to suppress my smile. Rosie is exactly what Zanders needed, whether or not he realized it. She’s become his partner, always at his side and willingly giving him the unconditional love he’s not great at asking for but needs.
She’s a good reminder that there’s someone who needs him, someone who relies on him. And she’s a reason for him to miss home. Zanders might not have realized it, but seeing his best friends build a family around him, even though they always include him, probably left him wanting his own connection to Chicago. And now he has one.
“Did you get any pictures today?”
“Yes.” He beams. “Do you want to see?” But he’s already got his phone unlocked and scrolling before I can respond.
His chin rests on my shoulder, and even though I can’t see his smile, I can picture it perfectly as his thumb swipes, showing off today’s photos of his black and tan girl.
His poor dog-sitter was bombarded with multiple messages a day during Zanders’ first few road trips as Rosie’s owner. Eventually, they compromised that at least one picture a day would assure the overprotective dog dad that his girl was in good hands.
Did I ever think I would be looking at pictures of Rosie sprawled out on a luxurious dog bed or sunbathing on a chaise lounge while her overly expensive dog collar shines in the sun? No. Not in a million years. Especially since she spent an entire year at SDOC, but that intimidating girl is as sweet as can be, and it just took an equally intimidating boy to see it.
“I still can’t believe you got her that collar.”
“She’s got a chain just like her dad,” he boasts before spinning one of the rings on my fingers. “All my girls got some drip.”
I hold his tattooed hand in mine. “All but you and this pinky.”
“This is my favorite one, Stevie girl.” He allows me to spin the ring that’s lost all its shine. “Because it was yours, and you’re my favorite.”
His phone begins to ring in his grasp right there in front of me, his agent’s name plastered across the screen.