Connor wears classy sunglasses, a paperback in hand. And his grin widens at Rose. “You’re wasting your hopes on the impossible, darling.”
Rose straightens up and white-knuckles the railing. “I waste nothing more than you do.”
“That’s entirely false…” His gaze falls to her breasts, much larger, even in her black two-piece and sheer cover-up dress. “…but I’ll let it go, this time.”
“Watch out, Rose,” Lo says, walking onto the pool deck below us, a towel slung over his shoulder. I scan his sculpted torso from hours in the gym, the view more pleasing and less humiliating. I wish I could send my body an SOS: Loren Hale only! signal. “I heard Connor likes spanking, hard.”
“Just heard?” Connor banters, his grin blinding.
Lo snaps his fingers in mock realization. “That’s right, love, I forgot about last night.”
“Impossible,” Connor says. “I’m unforgettable.” He winks at Lo, and I exhale loudly at the whole flirty male banter. An exhale that belongs to ravenous bedroom Lily 1.0. Not Lily 3.0.
Rose has completely zeroed in on her husband, but her face is clammy with sweat, her skin almost ashen. “Your hand is getting nowhere near my ass.” Her threat sounds weak as she queasily rocks back.
Connor’s grin vanishes in a second. “Rose?”
She puts a hand to her mouth and quickly spins to the sliding door.
Connor jolts to his feet, no longer humored. He sprints out of the pool deck, towards the staircase. Rose darts inside the cabin, where she came from. To go puke, most likely.
I can barely process my seesawing emotions, not when Connor runs across the second-floor deck. More concerned about his wife than anything else. He passes me and Daisy without a glance. And he disappears after my older sister.
The worst part: I still feel hot.
I take a quick look left and catch Daisy scrutinizing my beet-red expression. I try to play it cool, relax my arms, and offer her a small smile. She returns it and lightly hip-bumps me. “I know everyone didn’t really have a choice, but I’m happy you’re here,” she says. “Thanks for coming.”
Coming. I am on fire, paranoia heightening with the idea that everyone is reading my perverted thoughts. “Happy nineteenth,” I tell her, which I should’ve this morning.
“Thanks.” She smiles brighter. “I’m going to go get a drink from the bar. Do you want a water or anything?”
I shake my head. “I’ll follow you down there though.” We stroll along the skinny outside walkway. I just now recognize the muscle shirt she’s wearing. I bought this one for her birthday: a print of a unicorn prancing in a field of daises with a rainbow. It reminded me of her, and I was too excited to wait until this weekend to reveal it. The white fabric covers her bikini.
“What’d Ryke get you?” I ask.
She shrugs and fixes her hair into a high bun. “He’s not the gift-giver kind of guy.”
Noooo. He did not forget. Rose texted him twenty different threats if he failed to remember Daisy’s birthday present. I only know this because Ryke showed me a picture of a chopped, burnt hot dog that Rose sent him.
Thank goodness produce and meat products haven’t turned me on. I’ve headed to a new horrible low if that happens.
“Ryke would make an exception for you,” I tell her.
“It’s okay,” she shrugs again. I really can’t tell if it bothers her or not.
And that’s when Ryke climbs the stairs to our walkway, the stairs that we must descend. I’ve been successfully avoiding him since we baked cookies. I don’t want to feel like a gross monster around Ryke, and until I figure out how to alter those feelings, I’ve decided to put myself in situations where I can’t have them at all.
Which makes this run-in right now very, very awkward.
I go silent with Daisy, and we come to a sort of standstill. It’s ten times worse because Ryke is very tanned and very shirtless. Another set of abs. More muscles that point to swim trunks, this time black ones with blue trim.
I find a solution, planting my gaze on his feet. Safe. There is nothing I can do about my embarrassed flush at this point. I just have to ignore it.
Ryke breaks the uneasy silence. “I left my sunglasses in the cabin.”
Daisy lets out a mock gasp. “You mean these sunglasses?” She waves his black wayfarers in the air and then puts them on.
I take a peek, a mistake because he gives my little sister the longest once-over in history of once-overs. My breath feels shallow, and the shame starts rising like molten lava.