Chapter 7
It’s an absolutely spectacular day—not a freaking cloud in the sky.
No matter what, I’m glad I chose to come here.
This was a good decision. I head down to the beach in late morning for a quick swim, followed by a leisurely lounge in my beach chair, under an umbrella, romance novel in hand.
But I only get about twenty pages in before something—or rather, someone—blocks out the sun.
I raise my head. It’s Zach. And his ridiculously broad shoulders.
“Hey,” he says. His voice is lighter than last night. His whole energy is different.
“Hey yourself.” I remove my sunglasses to read him better, but I still have to shade my eyes from the glare with my hand.
“No coffee?” There’s a smile on his face I didn’t see last night. Maybe he’s still thinking about his lame AARP commercial joke.
“That was hours ago.” I study him again. “You seem… chipper.”
“Probably because I am.” He plops down on the sand next to me, stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankles. He has sand all over his calves.
I have never studied his bare feet before, but I am now. They bring up questions. “When I saw you last night, things seemed pretty dire.”
He nods. “Brooke texted me this morning. Said she was sorry for how dinner ended. That she still feels messed up about the divorce, and she doesn’t always know how to handle it.”
“Of course. It’s confusing.”
“She said she’s working on it. I told her we can talk about it any time.”
The way he says it, with relief and pride all tangled together, makes me grin. “That sounds like progress. That’s great.”
“Yeah.” He nods, still smiling, like he can’t help it. “It feels like maybe we cracked the door open. Maybe she’s letting me in again. And for once, I’m managing to not screw up a relationship with someone I care about.”
“That’s wonderful, Zach. Really.”
He looks at me then, his expression softening. “You know, I owe you for this.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“But I do. I need to say thank you.” His smile turns sly.
I see an opening. “It’s not too late to decide you won’t bid on the house. That would be a great thank you gift.”
“I don’t owe you that much.”
I grumble. A girl can hope, can’t she?
“But I want to take you out today.”
I blink. “Out?”
“Yep. Somewhere fun. No spreadsheets, no auctions, no stress. Just fun.”
“Define ‘fun’.”
“Go-karts. Mini golf. Dinner after.”
I laugh, startled and delighted all at once. “That’s your idea of repaying a debt of gratitude? An itinerary planned by a twelve-year-old?”
“You’ll feel bad about saying that when I lap you on the go-kart track.”
“Oh, please. That’s not happening.” I toss my book into my tote bag and get up from my seat. “Now help me with my umbrella.”
He hops up and wipes sand from his hands. “Does this mean you’re saying yes?”
I can’t help it. A smile a mile wide erupts on my face. My cheeks are red-hot smoldering briquettes of embarrassment. He does this to me way too easily. “Yes. I’m saying yes.”
A mere hour later, we’re both buckled into low-slung plastic karts with tiny steering wheels. I’m already laughing. And ready to kick his ass. The track smells like rubber and gasoline, kids are shrieking with glee, and Zach looks over at me with a grin that’s pure mischief.
“You ready for this?” he calls.
“I was born ready,” I shoot back.
The flag drops and we’re off. My kart lurches forward, slower than his, but I get up to speed and lean into the curves, hair flying behind me as I chase him, adrenaline buzzing in my veins.
Zach looks over his shoulder, then very obviously hangs back until we’re nearly even.
Then he floors it, zips past me, and I stick my tongue out at him as he flashes me a cocky salute.
I stay glued to his tail, despite the fact that I am certain my car is defective. In the final lap, his cavalier attitude gets the best of him. He takes a corner with entirely too much confidence and nearly spins out. I gun it past him, squealing with triumph as I cross the finish line first.
When we climb out, he shakes his head. “Okay, fine. You got me.”
I plant my hands on my hips. “Say it.”
“What?”
“Something suitably complimentary with regard to my skills on track.”
He sighs theatrically. “Jodie Marks is a superior driver.”
I grin. “Perfect. That’s all I wanted.”
Mini golf is no less ridiculous. He sinks putts like he’s hustling me, then blows an easy one just to make me laugh. I accuse him of cheating, he accuses me of sandbagging. It’s entirely too much fun.
By the time we get to dinner—crab legs and cold beer at a dockside place down the beach from our duplex, with string lights overhead and soft ocean breezes—I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself like this.
Seriously. I am racking my brain. The last three trips I took with Michael were miserable.
We were always arguing about the things he wanted to do vs.
the things I wanted to do. Rock climbing vs.
snorkeling. Mojitos vs. margaritas. Take your pick.
It was a struggle. Looking back, it’s so much easier to see the signs.
Being with Zach feels easy. Natural. Like we’ve been hanging out a lot longer than a handful of days.
The sun is low when we walk back up the beach, the sky painted in streaks of coral and lavender.
Our shoes dangle from our hands, the sand cool under my feet.
I’m still smiling from something he said about the world’s ugliest mini golf course mascot—a pirate with some unfortunate black and white striped pants—when we slow near the dunes.
Neither of us speaks. The ocean hushes against the shore, filling the silence.
He looks at me then, really looks, and my heart kicks up hard enough that I know what’s coming. At least I think I know. My guy-reading skills are sorely out of practice. But if he’s thinking what I’m thinking… then, yes. I’m all in.
For a split second, my brain intrudes with all the reasons I shouldn’t—he’s my neighbor, my competition, my go-karting rival. But then he steps closer, his hand brushing mine, and every reason vanishes.
The kiss is gentle at first, a question more than an answer.
But the warmth of it rushes through me as I bow into him, and he brushes his tongue along my lower lip, leaving me dizzy in the best way.
I thread my fingers into his hair, and it’s just as soft and thick as I imagined.
And his mouth… well, it’s magnificent. The man has some next level kissing skills.
When we finally pull back, I’m breathless, smiling like an idiot.
“I feel like I owe you now,” I whisper. “For today. For tonight. It was so much fun.”
His grin is slow, devastating. “Good. I like having leverage. The question is whether you’ll let me use said leverage now or if I need to wait.”
I lean into him and run my fingers along the neckline of his T-shirt. I’m a little drunk and a lot turned on. “What did you have in mind?”
“Did I ever tell you the fifth rule of flipping?”
I shake my head, hoping we aren’t going to end up talking about the house again.
He clears his throat. “Find a way to have fun. It’s open to interpretation, and I realize we already had fun today… but I’m thinking that if we think about it really hard, we can find even more ways to have fun.”
“I thought you said the fourth rule was don’t rush anything.”
He reaches down and cups my ass while he delivers another devastating kiss. “I’m not rushing anything. I said you were hot the first night you were here. I’ve been dropping hints for days now. If you ask me, this is right on time.”
“You are so bad.”
“If you want me to be.” He kisses me one more time and the sensation mingles with the waves and the last light of day. Then he takes my hand, and we start up the path between the dunes.
I can’t help but think that this feels like the start of something.
Something I never saw coming.