Chapter 33
Someone shouts my name. I spin to glance at the black Range Rover that just parked in the lot. Flynn Parks is climbing out of the driver’s seat, a wide smile stretched across his face.
“Hey!” I call back, walking toward him. “What are you doing here?”
“Enjoying my final minutes of freedom,” Flynn says somberly.
I raise my eyebrows. “Cops are after you?”
“Worse. My father.” His tone is grim, so I can’t really tell if he’s kidding.
I’ve surmised, based on comments Kit has made and the number of holidays Flynn has spent with my family instead of his own, that he’s not close with his parents. But I don’t know any details.
“What’s your dad doing?”
“He’s making me go to law school.”
“That’s not that bad, is it?”
Flynn lowers his sunglasses to give me a serious look. “I looked up the textbook for one of my intro courses. Guess how many pages?”
“Uh, five hundred?”
“One thousand eight hundred twenty-four.” He shoves his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “I’m sure the others are equally bad, but I haven’t mustered the courage to check yet.”
I smile. “Well, you remembered exactly how many pages are in the book. Now, you just have to memorize everything in it, right?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, that’s encouraging. Thanks.”
“Anytime.” I tilt my head. “Where are you going? For law school?”
Flynn tilts his head. “C’mon, Wren. You know there’s only one option.”
“Rory’s going there in the fall too.”
“Oh, I know. I think it’s the only thing I’ve ever heard her talk about. Harvard Law this. Harvard Law that.”
“Hey.” I give his chest a light shove. “Yes, Rory can be annoyingly academic. But she’s still my sister. If you were nicer to her, she’d help you study that obscenely thick book.”
“You think so, huh?” Flynn asks dryly.
I don’t actually. Flynn Parks is the only person I’ve seen my sister act even remotely rude toward. He and I have similar personalities, but Rory has no biological obligation toward him.
“So, that’s Marina Guy?”
I glance over my shoulder, following Flynn’s gaze. Sawyer is standing by the dumpsters behind the yacht club, but he’s not alone. Several other guys, including Wade and Gus, are with him.
“How’d you know?” I ask, refocusing on Flynn.
He smirks. “Only one who looks murderous. You were right—he could take me. But I’d get my ass kicked for you if he’s still pulling shit.”
I smile. “He’s not. But thank you. And for that night. I never …”
Flynn waves my thanks away. “Getting drunk with two hot chicks was on my New Year’s Eve bucket list.”
“You think Rory is hot?” I tease.
He rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I said.”
“Uh, it sort of is.”
“Is your scary boyfriend the one I should ask about taking my dad’s boat out?” Flynn asks, swinging his keys around one finger.
Interestingly, he seems to want to change the topic. Normally, he’ll discuss anything.
“No, you should ask Dusty. He’s the manager.” I point toward the marina office. “He’ll assign someone to help you.”
“Cool. You want to come out with me?”
“I can’t,” I say, gesturing to my outfit. “I’m working.”
“Working where?”
“Working here. I’m waitressing at the yacht club this summer.”
He looks confused. “Why?”
I roll my eyes. “Most eighteen-year-olds have summer jobs, Flynn.”
“I didn’t.”
“That does not shock me.”
Flynn smirks, unabashed. “So, this is like a riches-to-rags kind of thing? See how the other half lives?”
“I’m just trying something new. Like you, with law school.”
“Law school is not me trying something new. It’s my father’s ultimatum—go or get cut off.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
He sighs. “I should have told him to fuck off … but I really love being rich.”
I laugh, shaking my head.
“Was probably time to try something else,” Flynn continues. “Kit has a career and a whole-ass kid already. I’m way behind.”
“Measuring your life against someone else’s means you’re living theirs, not yours,” I tell him.
Flynn gives me a faux-impressed look. “And everyone says you and Rory couldn’t be more different.”
“Since you hate my sister, I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“I don’t hate her. She strongly dislikes me, and I gave up on changing her mind.”
“Huh,” I say.
Flynn waves at someone behind me. “There are Joe and Vance. See ya, Wren.”
“Bye, Flynn,” I reply, then continue toward the patio.
Aaron is exiting the kitchen entrance as I approach, a mug of steaming coffee in one hand. He smiles when he sees me, but it’s a little uncertain.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt when I reach him.
“You don’t need to apologize. I was just … surprised.”
“We had a thing last summer, and I thought it was over. I never expected him to dance with me or kiss me in front of everyone.”
“Wren, seriously. It’s fine. You don’t owe me any explanation. I’ll just have to find a new crush now that I know Cap is super straight and super into you.” Aaron blows on his coffee. “Also, I’m now realizing that flirting with you was the worst possible strategy to get Cap to like me.”
I wince. “We’re not actually dating or anything. I’m not sure he cares—”
“He cares enough to be walking over here, looking pissed,” Aaron interrupts.
I glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, Sawyer is stalking this way. And he does appear irritated.
“Gibson,” he barks. “Ken Thompson needs help launching from the ramp.”
“Headed there now, Cap,” Aaron says, then beelines toward the marina.
Sawyer continues toward me. I feel a little like prey, if prey is ever seized with the urge to kiss its predator. I understand now why Sawyer was worried how I’d react to him punching another guy. But I’ve never felt the least bit unsafe around him.
“Who was the guy?” he asks.
I raise my eyebrows. “Aaron Gibson. You’ve worked with him all summer.”
He’s in no mood for jokes, it seems. “Who was the rich guy, in the parking lot?”
“Flynn Parks. He’s best friends with my cousin Kit.”
“Are you sleeping with him?”
“Wh—” I’m too surprised to finish the question. “What? That’s—”
“I swear to God, Wren, if you say it’s none of my business—”
“I was going to say, that’s ridiculous. He’s twenty-four. He’s way too old for me.”
“Are you sleeping with anyone age-appropriate?”
“Are you?” I shoot back. “Or older women, your preference?”
“I asked you first.”
I laugh. “Seriously? You want to have this conversation here, now, and you’re calling dibs on the other people question?”
He holds my gaze. “Yep.”
I stare back. “Fine. No. I’m not.”
“Do you … want to?”
My heart rate quickens all of a sudden. Because there’s only one reason I can conjure for why he’d be bringing this up, and I basically gave up on Sawyer ever participating in this conversation, let alone initiating it.
I shake my head. Then, in case he possibly misinterpreted the motion, I add, “No. I don’t want to.”
I’ve never wanted to.
He exhales a long breath that sounds … relieved.
“Do you?” I whisper.
“No.” His answer is hasty. Decisive.
I bite my bottom lip, then state, “That sounds similar to a relationship.”
He nods. “It does.”
“Would you—”
The radio attached to Sawyer’s belt crackles, followed by Gus’s voice saying, “Hey, Cap. I’ve got a couple of renters here who aren’t sure what they rented, and I’m not clear either. Can you come over to the office?”
Sawyer grabs the radio and hits a button. “Be right there, man.” To me, he gives an apologetic smile. “This, uh, probably wasn’t the best time to discuss …”
“Probably not,” I agree, smothering my disappointment.
“Jerry King thinks his steering is stiff. Probably a rudder post issue or hydraulic problem. I can’t tell dockside, so I told him I’d take it out for a sail test after my shift to see how Odyssey acts under load.”
“I understood about a third of those words.”
He grins. “I have to work late, but I should wrap up by six. Wanna meet me here then, and we can talk more? Grab dinner? My mom is visiting her brother this week, so I have the house to myself.”
“I’ll check my schedule. See if I can fit you in.”
“Yeah, you do that.” Sawyer steps forward, spinning his hat around and pressing a quick kiss to my lips. He grins at my shocked expression, taking a couple of steps backward before turning and jogging toward the marina office.
And I allow myself to hope, just a little bit, that he might actually love me back.