34. Belly Flop
BELLY FLOP
CHLOE
Seriously?
He’s here? But my eyes don’t lie. That’s August, wearing beige linen shorts and a blue linen shirt, like he picked them out of a Hamptons summer-wear catalogue for budding executives.
When he’s anything but.
He’s a daddy’s boy, and I don’t know what I ever saw in him.
He’s like exhibit A for a woman who has a terrible track record.
My greatest regret is heading my way, striding around the pool, past the lifeguard stands as dogs belly flop into the water, chasing tennis balls thrown by their owners, several feet from Jubilee.
Except, wait. August isn’t heading toward me.
He’s beelining for…Alexandra, who’s wearing a wide-brimmed hat and shades the size of plates.
Wearing slacks and espadrilles, she types on her phone in a chair under an umbrella several feet away from Jubilee and Corinne.
Probably making business decision after business decision while also making sure Jubilee doesn’t jump in the pool.
Poorna mentioned to me it’s not good for the dog’s rep as a perfectly well-behaved pooch.
I’ve been keeping an eye on her too. But now I’m distracted by my ex.
“What the fuck?” I mutter.
Sawyer’s hand flies to my back, possessively. It’s reassuring. “Want me to get rid of him?”
I love that he offers. Truly, it sends a zing down my spine. But I can’t do that. Can I?
No. No. No. I can’t.
“I wish,” I say, sighing heavily. “But I guess he has a right to be here.”
And he’s exercising the hell out of that right, striding right up to Alexandra.
They’re close by, so I listen in. “Ms. Bourbon, what a pleasure to meet you. You remember my colleague Hallie Vance, and we have a fantastic proposition for you.”
“Who are you?” Alexandra asks.
And I love that she’s so…chilly.
Go, ice queen.
“Oh excuse me,” he says, flustered. Right. Because he was never that good at anything. Not planning events and not being a husband. Why, universe, why did I marry him?
It was a dare. You were having fun.
I was being foolish and irresponsible. I was hot-mess Chloe. I was troublemaker Chloe. I was the Chloe who didn’t have her act together.
“I’m August Fitzburger of Fitzburger Events, and I’ve been wanting to work with your show on a series of events to help promote it.
We have an idea for”—he stops, makes a gesture like he’s lighting up a marquee, and says—“dog weddings. In the town square. For local dogs, but sponsored by the show. Wouldn’t that be a great way to showcase the series? ”
No. It would not.
“And I would train them to walk down the aisle and bark their vows,” Hallie says archly, like a stern nanny who’s hell-bent on proving why she should have been hired to tend to the little tykes. “Then you could see my work in action.”
Alexandra taps her chin, but she’s unreadable. “I’ll give it some thought. Do you have a card?”
August whips one out of his back pocket. “Here you go. And what a terrific event you put together.”
He’s such a suck-up.
“Dog Tails did this. They set the whole thing up with Chloe,” Alexandra says, and I could kiss her. It’s the height of a compliment from the ice queen.
August swings his gaze around…then must spot me. Not hard, since I’m less than ten feet away. “Of course, Chloe was always so good at working with her”—he pauses to sketch air quotes—“friends.”
What. The. Fuck.
I tense.
Alexandra stares at him like she just can’t be bothered. “I have things to do,” she says, then waves them off and settles back into her chair, with her attention locked onto her phone.
I’m not in the mood for his invasion. I march over to August, who’s lingering way too close to the lifeguard stand by the edge of the pool, with Hallie a few feet from him. I ignore her and focus on him. “What was the point of that comment?” I whisper.
“What comment?” he asks innocently.
“The friend one, you jackass,” a voice says.
A voice that sends a tingle down my spine.
Sawyer.
He’s right next to me.
August chuckles. “So I was right. You are more than friends. Figured as much at the dog park, so I rolled the dice with that comment, like we did in Vegas,” he says, nodding toward me, while he answers Sawyer. “And you just confirmed it.”
“Leave,” Sawyer says, hissing out the word like it’s lethal, advancing toward August.
Even as he gives a smug smile, August backs up a step, away from the lifeguard stand. “Don’t worry. I’m on my way out. But hey, thanks for having this event. I was looking for a networking chance, and you, my man, made it possible,” he says, giving a bro punch to Sawyer’s shoulder.
Sawyer looks at his shoulder like it’s infected, but says, clear and firm, “And you can go now.”
“We will,” Hallie pipes in, then looks to me. “Since it seems you’re not the only game in town. Strutting in here like you can get everything because you’re cute.”
“That’s not how I am,” I spit out. What the hell is up with this double attack?
“It kind of is,” August says.
“Like I said, time to leave,” Sawyer says, staring him down like he’s going to rip off his limbs. He won’t of course. Sawyer’s a gentleman. He’d never do that. But August doesn’t know that.
August holds up his hands in surrender, flashing a fake smile. “No worries. It’s your turn now with her. I get it, man. I’m not trying to make a move. But you can enjoy my seconds.”
Sawyer growls. There’s no other way to describe the noise he makes. It’s a full-throated growl. I glance at him, and his fists are clenched, his jaw is set, but the thing is…his eyes don’t look mad.
They look calculating. He takes one more step toward my ex, who’s standing at the edge of the pool.
When he cuts between Hallie and August, Sawyer stumbles. That’s so unlike him. He’s always sure on his feet—
Oh.
He grabs the back of August’s leg like he’s catching himself, but his balance is perfect. It’s a fake out. He drives his elbow into the back of August’s knee.
August flails, then topples backward into the deep end, linen clothes and all.
Sawyer just pulled a Shortcake.
Someone gasps. Someone else claps. Another person cheers. Hallie curses.
August splashes around, reaching for something—then snatches a tennis ball and tosses it away into the water like it’s personally offended him.
A bark rings out.
I whip my gaze to Jubilee. She’s making a run for it, all eight perfect shampooed pounds of her, flying out of her chair, scrambling across the deck, and jumping right into the pool.
Everyone gasps.