Page 473 of Ruthless Court

Three weeks after the championship, Kane takes me to the beach.

“Why are we here?”

“Date.”

“We had dinner yesterday.”

“People can date more than once a week.”

“Suspicious.”

He opens my door.

Two years and he still does it.

I climb out.

The evening is warm enough for a sweater but cool enough that the breeze raises goosebumps along my legs.

Cars are lined up on the sand facing a giant temporary screen.

String lights mark the entrance.

Food trucks sit farther down the beach.

I stare.

“A drive-in?”

“Beach edition.”

“You planned this?”

“I have skills.”

“Debatable.”

His hand finds mine.

I squeeze it.

Our truck is backed toward the screen.

Blankets fill the bed.

Pillows.

A cooler.

And—

I stop.

“Kane.”

He looks innocent.

“What?”