“Shit.”
“Ansel Barlowe…”
“My friend. My girl, that’s my friend. My girl…”
“I’m notyourgirl.” I cut my eyes.
It didnothingto diminish the smile on his face.
“Just don’t leave me alone, deal?”
The house was ridiculous. Of course, it was. Vaulted ceilings, too much glass, and someone had paid extra for the kind of lighting that looked like mood lighting but was probably engineered by a NASA contractor. There were already people in the pool — laughing, half-naked, drink in hand, like this was a normal Tuesday.
It wasnota normal Tuesday.
Ansel parked terribly. Not diagonally this time, but with the confident laziness of a man who knew no one would call him out on it. He killed the engine and turned to me with a grin that bordered on sheepish.
“You ready?” he asked.
“No,” I said flatly. “But I’m here.”
“That’s the spirit.” He reached over and flicked the hem of my sleeve. “You look great, by the way.”
I rolled my eyes and made a dramatic show of ignoring him as I stepped out of the car. The oversized cover-up I’d thrown on barely hit mid-thigh, and I tugged it lower as we made our way toward the house.
Inside, the warmth hit me first — it was practically tropical. Chlorine clung to the air. A DJ was set up against the back wall, and someone had brought tiny floating flamingos to hold their drinks.
Ansel introduced me to a few people on the way in, but I only half-heard their names. Too busy cataloging all the bronzed skin, tousled hair, perfect abs.
And then — eyes on me.
Too many eyes.
I tugged the cover-up tighter around myself and tried to disappear into the corner.
“You okay?” Ansel asked, voice low as he handed me a drink. I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t care.
“I don’t belong here.”
“Yes, you do.”
I looked up at him. “They’re all half-naked and beautiful and glowing. I look like an anxious librarian.”
He glanced at my cover-up. “So… take it off?”
I stared at him.
“I mean — I didn’t — I wasn’t—” he sputtered. “I just meant — if you want to swim. Or not. You don’t have to.Shit.”
CHAPTER 17
“Shit,” I muttered, dragging my hand down my face. “Sorry. That sounded like — God, I don’t know what it sounded like.”
Juniper didn’t say anything. Just stood there clutching her drink, eyebrow quirked… and probably plotting my untimely demise.
I tried again, this time aiming for casual, like maybe I could outrun the disaster I’d just created. “I just meant if you were hot. Like, temperature-wise. Physically.” I winced. “Notphysically,physically. I mean?—”
She raised the brow higher, still completely silent.
