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She drags it out, grabs it by the top, and then shuts the door to walk away, but her whole body jerks back, the handle having gotten trapped in the door.
I cover my mouth to keep the sound of my laugh from carrying the distance between us.
She’s a fucking mess. Bag finally free, she makes her way to the sidewalk, cutoff jean shorts highlighting the length of her long, tanned legs in the process.
Her white T-shirt is simple and tight over her full breasts, and her shoulder-length brown hair falls in natural waves around her face.
She’s a walking disaster—but man, she’s beautiful.
She stops on the sidewalk and leans down, still without having noticed me in my position on the beach. Her sandals are attractive but undeniably complicated, and the bag on her shoulder, thanks to gravity, flops to the ground and almost knocks her over. She stumbles a little, still working at the strappy buckle on one foot, and my smile grows again.
Frustrated, she kicks at her bag, making it spill out its contents, and a loud groan sounds all the way across the empty air and echoes off the ocean.
I bite my lip.
She turns then, hands still on her ankle, her ass still in the air, and reaches forward to get something before it can roll away.
The vision of her ass sparks a memory from the last time I saw it—covered in nothing but lacy black underwear as she stripped down in the same parking lot.
Fuck.
Concerned with my line of thinking, I spin around and face the ocean for the remainder of her antics. We’re probably both better off if she doesn’t know I’ve been sitting here watching her struggle anyway.
I reach between my shoulders, pull off my T-shirt, and then shove it into the big opening of my bag. The screen of my phone lights up in the little pocket, so I pull it out to look at it, but it’s just an email.
I stand up and start to stretch, but the sound of Holley’s voice calling out to me makes me turn around.
“Hiii,” she calls, definitely oblivious to the fact that I watched the first and second act of her comedy sketch routine.
“Ah,” I hum as Holley comes walking through the sand, carrying her overly complicated shoes. “At least you’re wearing shorts this time.”
“Last time was not my fault,” she sasses. “Plus, I was saving you from drowning.”
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
“Why would I? It’s the truth.”
A laugh jumps from my throat. “Okay. Sure. In your mind, you were saving me.”
“Not in my mind, cowboy. I was saving you.”
“Holley.”
She narrows her eyes. “Jake.”
“Holley.”
“Jake.”
I sigh. She smiles. Man, does it light her up. There’s something about her face—something so engaging. It’s beautiful and cute and earnest at the same time. I’ve never seen anything like it.
“Ready for a swim, then?” I ask, and she laughs so hard she actually snorts. It echoes on the empty beach.
“No way are you getting me back in that water.”
“Why? According to you, you saved me. Shouldn’t be any trauma associated with that, right?”
“It’s complex.” She skirts around the question. “But just trust me, we’re both better off.”
“I’ll watch out for you.”
“No.” She shakes her head, and strands of her dark locks slide across her shoulder.
“You won’t even notice you’re in the water, I’ll take such good care of you.”
“No.”
“But how will you accurately write about any of this if you’re not out there with me?”
“You swim in the ocean, blah, blah, blah. I bet I can make up some really good stuff.”
I put two hands on my hips. “Come on, Holley.”
“I don’t have a suit.”
I grin, clapping my hands together between us so hard she jumps, and then turn to my bag to riffle through it. I find the fabric easily enough, pull it out, and hold it up in front of her. “Given how you dressed last time, I thought that might be the case, so I brought you one.”
Her jaw nearly hits the sand. “What?”
“A bathing suit,” I say, shaking the material between us. “I took one of Chloe’s.”
“I’m never going to fit into one of Chloe’s bathing suits.”
“Sure, you will,” I say. “You’re about the same height.” Not really, Chloe is definitely taller, but I’m not above necessary white lies if it’ll get her to put the thing on.
“But not even close to the same weight.”
I frown. She sounds kind of like she’s being down on herself about her weight, but I don’t get it. Her body is amazing, despite the ambiguity of its first impression in an ocean-soaked business suit.
“The material is stretchy. It’ll fit.”
“Jake—”
“Holley.”
She shakes her head, and I shake the suit. “Come on. I’m not going in without you, and I can’t start my day without a swim. It’s going to throw our whole schedule off if you don’t get a move on it.”
