Chuckling so hard, I feel tears under my eyes, I say, “Oh my God, you were almost pecked to death.”
“That wasn’t even the worst part.”
“What was the worst part?”
“When I was screaming at them, begging them to leave me alone, one of them pooped.”
“Gah, you were pooped on? They took your food and then did a doo-doo on you? How is that fair?”
“It’s not, but, with all of the flapping and flailing, the poop somehow flipped in my direction and landed on my face.”
I gasp and cover my mouth. “Oh my God, no, it didn’t.”
“It did. Bird shit landed on my face. Needless to say, my already shitty day—no pun intended—became an even shittier one.”
“I’m surprised you came back here after that.”
“Wasn’t the pier’s fault,” he says. “It was mine for naively thinking I could eat a meal in a place where tourists have no concept of not feeding the wildlife, because the more you feed them, the more aggressive they become. A lesson was learned, and whenever I come here now, it’s usually just me and my thoughts. Well . . . now you.”
We reach the end of the pier. I walk up to the railing and lean against it, gazing at the waves and the expanse of darkness. The breeze picks up, a chill rushes through me, and before I can cross my arms for added warmth, JP places his leather jacket on my back. I glance over my shoulder and find him in his thin, long-sleeved T-shirt. “JP, I don’t want you to be cold.”
“I’m good, don’t worry about me,” he says before coming up behind me, putting his arms on either side of me on the fence, and leaning his chest against my back. I’m pinned against the rail. For a moment, I’m stiff, unsure what to do, but when the warmth hits me, I ease into the hold.
“How’s your mom? Still enjoying being alone with her man, Jeff, in their house?”
I chuckle. “Yes.” Lottie was living with them and one of the main reasons she struck up a deal with Huxley in the first place was to give our mom and Jeff some privacy after many years of dealing with us girls. Jeff and our mom have been to many dinners and outdoor parties at Lottie and Huxley’s house, and JP and Breaker know them by now. “They’re loving it. Currently, they’re building a pergola and fighting over what color to paint it.”
JP rests his chin on my shoulder, the scruff of his cheek pressing against mine.
Call me crazy, but this doesn’t seem very short-term companionship-like, this feels like more, and my romantic heart is trying to make something of it, while my brain is telling it no, no, no, no.
“What color does your mom want to paint it?”
“Black,” I answer, leaning more against his chest. “She wants to go with the trends. And of course, Jeff, the traditionalist, wants to stain it, because to him, painting wood is an absolute sin.”
“Who do you think is going to win?”
“My mom, of course. She always wins. I’m sure she’ll let him win in another way, though. Maybe with some potted plant to decorate the area.”
“That’s right, he’s an avid gardener. Maybe he’s putting up a big fight about the color, then intentionally letting her win so she’ll allow him to pick the plants.”
“Ooo, I never thought of it that way. Knowing Jeff, I could see him doing that.”
“When the pergola is done, are they going to have you over to test it out?”
“I’m sure they will. Although, we’ve been spending more time as a family at Huxley and Lottie’s. Mom wants to host a bridal shower for Lottie in their backyard. Being her maid of honor and all, I’ll help make that happen. Hey, are you the best man?”
“Breaker and I are sharing the responsibility,” he answers. “But since I’m older I get to walk down the aisle with the maid of honor. Lucky you.”
“Oh, yes, lucky me. I’m sure you will make some inappropriate comments.”
“Wouldn’t be right if I didn’t.” He sighs and then says, “I’m happy for Huxley, though, despite how their relationship came about. Since he’s the oldest, I feel like he’s always carried the burden of making sure we’re all taken care of. When we decided to invest money into a business of our own, he sat us down and said he was setting us up for the future, which he did. Financially, Breaker and I are both set. We don’t have to worry.”
“But when it comes to happiness?” I ask.
“Still figuring that out.” He straightens up and says, “I’m sure you have some early morning meetings. I should get you back to the penthouse.”