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“Yes!” squealed Jenn, pumping her fist into the air in victory. “Funtown, here we come!”
“Maybe just a short trip.” Chloe lifted her chin high. “And now I am going to go put on some clothes, so I can stop holding in my gut.”
CHAPTER FOUR
DARN IT, THIS GIRL WAS CUTE. Max took a swig from his beer, his gaze rising up to the swirl of stars above, but fully aware that she was only inches away. He couldn’t count the number of nights he’d spent staring up at the Milky Way, surrounded by the sounds of lapping, rolling water, but he’d never been quite so relaxed.
Chloe was like a softly pulsing beacon beside him, sending off waves of warmth and peace. It would’ve been the perfect evening if not for the damn fire they kept feeding more wood to. At this rate, it would be morning before the embers cooled and Max could stop worrying enough to get some sleep.
“Another?” Chloe asked, holding out the bag of marshmallows. Max shook his head, and she set the bag back on the cooler before licking the last of the sticky mess from her fingers. He watched her mouth carefully. Her tongue glinted sparks of firelight when she licked.
They’d pulled chairs down to the sand, so he was separated from her by the wide wood armrests of the old beach chairs, but that was probably a good thing. As attractive as he found her, Max still didn’t plan on getting involved. But she kept licking melted sugar from her fingers, eyes closed as if she enjoyed the task…
“Castellan,” he heard the other woman saying to Elliott. “Jenn Castellan.”
Max made his eyes give up their vigil on Chloe’s fingers and turned toward the blonde. “That’s a Spanish name, isn’t it?”
“It is.” Her smile looked more relaxed, too. As if they’d all fallen under a drugged spell. “I know I don’t look it. But my grandfather came straight from Spain to America. We’re all blond and blue-eyed Spaniards.”
“Funny,” he said, “Chloe’s the one who looks like she could have Spanish blood. What’s your last name?”
Her gaze shifted for a moment, fingers folding together for a brief squeeze before she picked up a stick and started poking at the fire. “It’s Turner.”
“Turner. That sounds perfectly English.”
She took a deep breath, as if she were waiting for something, but after a few seconds, she melted back into her seat. “It is. Nearly 100 percent. Embarrassingly boring.”
“We’re all Irish. Sullivans on one side, McKillops on the other.”
“So how’d a nice Irish boy like you get into treasure hunting? No work at the police station?”
Elliott laughed, raising his beer toward Max in a mini-toast. “Max was always out there getting into some sort of trouble. He likes to be in the middle of everything. I’m just happy he found a way to turn it into a job.”
Her knee bumped into Max’s, drawing his attention back. “You were a troublemaker, hmm? Somehow I’m not surprised.”
“That’s me,” Max said as if it were true, smiling as Elliott launched into a tale about Max volunteering to lead an illicit weekend trip to a beach during his senior year of high school.
“He made up some story about helping out a youth group and talked our neighbor into giving up his van for the weekend. Max fit ten people into that van, six of them girls, of course. And they all camped out on the beach for three nights. I was green with envy, always a little too young to tag along.”
Lifting his own bottle up, Max offered the expected self-satisfied smile. Though it really had been a good weekend. There’d been ten seat belts in the van, and Max had scoped out a legitimate seaside campground with running water and bathrooms. Then he’d conveniently forgotten to bring the hard liquor he’d promised to score. Everyone had made it home safe and sound, and Max hadn’t gotten his girlfriend pregnant, though he’d worried about that for weeks afterward, due to the warnings on the condom labels about storing them in the heat. The van had definitely been hot as hell.
“Six girls?” Chloe asked. “And four guys?”
“Hey, we were in high school. It was all innocent fun.”
“God, you are so full of shit.”
He laughed because it was true, and felt even better when he saw his brother laughing with Jenn. “So are you girls just hanging out on the beach for the week?”
“Mostly,” Chloe said. “But the wind’s supposed to be calm tomorrow afternoon, so we’re going to try diving.”
Max’s heart lurched as if it had been hit with a stick. “Diving?” he croaked.
“Yeah, I’m sure there’s nothing out here that rivals what you see overseas, but we’ve never tried it before, so we’re going to do the pool certification before lunch. What the heck? The seas are supposed to be calm, and we’ll probably be the only ones on the boat. It should be fun.”
Fun? Good God, no one seemed to regard diving as what it really was: a journey into an environment utterly hostile to human life. “Who’s the dive instructor?”
She shrugged. “We found a brochure at the grocery store.”
