She swings her gaze to me, legit surprise on her face. “You think?”
My chuckle is incredulous. “Oh, c’mon. I think they already like you better than Liz’s husband Blaine and Kit’s fiancé Jacob.”
Her eyes bug.
Oh shit. I just said that out loud.
I just went there.
Yeah, I suck at going slow.
Time to change the subject.
“What did Mom say to you just now?”
She trades her gobsmacked expression for a blush. “Oh…” Then she shakes her head. “I-It was nothing.”
I scoff. “Like hell it was. I know my mother. What’d she say?”
Greta flits her gaze up to mine but doesn’t hold it. “She said…” I watch her tuck a curl that’s escaped her ponytail behind her ear as she stalls. “She hopes we come to visit in the spring before we open for campers…. That they’ll have the spare room ready for us.”
Oh my God, Mom!
I keep my expression deadpan. “Subtle.”
She splutters a laugh.
I roll my eyes. “And you act surprised when I say they are crazy about you.”
She makes a face I can’t read.
I squeeze her hand. “What?”
“I’m just not used to that,” she says on a shrug.
Is she talking about the parentals adoring her? Being adored in general?
Does it matter if my response is the same?
I look her dead in the eyes. “Get used to it.”
ChapterTwenty
GRETA
It’s been morethan two weeks—
TWO WEEKS—
Since Zach’s parents visited. Since our first kiss. Since I asked to take things slow.
And we haven’t gotten past my bedroom door.
I look over at my business partner, unexpected friend, and maybe boyfriend. He’s in a deep squat, about to hoist a forty-pound bag of sand over his shoulder. The denim of his jeans hugs the glory of his perfect bubble butt and practically strains against his thighs.
Holy Baby Jesus.
When he stands, I realize I’m staring, and I get back to my job of tamping sand.
