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It took Kris ten minutes to gather enough energy to reach for her phone. She stared at the screen for a moment before she pulled up a familiar name and sent him a quick text.
Kris: What are you doing tomorrow?
She didn’t have a job anymore, so her schedule was wide open. As for her father’s ultimatum…well, she’d deal with that later.
The reply came less than a minute later.
Teague: Hanging out with you.
Excellent.
Kris: Manhattan Beach, 9am. See you then.
Shopping and the spa may not have cured her of her heartbreak, but she still had one S left.
* * *
Sex with Teaguewas off the table.
Not because he wasn’t attractive—his lean muscles and tousled hair drew the eyes of more than a few women when he and Kris walked along the beach Monday morning, but despite his good looks, she couldn’t summon an iota of sexual attraction toward him.
She would’ve chalked it up to their friendship, except her lack of attraction also ran toward every other guy at the beach, many of whom looked like they moonlighted as Calvin Klein underwear models.
Clearly, Kris’s body was not ready for sex with someone else this soon after her breakup, no matter what her mind said. Her heart was out of commission altogether; even if it weren’t, it wouldn’t have had a seat at the Table of Rebounds.
“You okay?” Teague eyed her with concern. “You’ve been unusually quiet. You didn’t even comment on my attire.”
Kris cracked a half-hearted smile. Teague wore the bright orange board shorts she’d dared him to buy in St. Barth’s one winter, but if anyone could pull off swimwear so glaringly bright it practically glowed, it was Teague.
“I have a lot on my mind.”
“Bobbi and the new job thing?”
She’d filled him in on that part of the weekend earlier.
“No.” They were close enough to the shore that a gentle wave lapped at Kris’s ankles before it receded. “Nate and I broke up Saturday night. His decision.”
Teague let out a low whistle. “Not a good weekend.”
“Nope.”
“Nate’s an idiot.”
“Yep.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised. I only met the guy once, but I thought…” Teague trailed off. “Did he say why?”
“Some bullshit about us not being right for each other.” No way was Kris telling anyone she’d wanted a long-distance relationship and Nate had shut her down. Hard. “Whatever. We wouldn’t have lasted anyway. I leave in—”
“Kris!”
Kris turned her head and watched in disbelief as Skylar bounded toward her with two athletic-looking brunettes—one with a long, thick braid; the other with a pixie cut that enhanced her catlike green eyes—in tow. Kris recognized the girl with the braid as Briana, the mentee who’d introduced Skylar to MentHer. Pixie Cut was a stranger.
“Hey, Sky. Hey, Briana.” Kris forced a smile. “Small world.”
She’d come to view Skylar as the little sister she’d never had, but the teen reminded her too much of Nate. One look at her and the spikes in Kris’s chest intensified their assault.
“Briana, Lacey, and I came here to relax. And to ogle the hot guys.” Skylar wiggled her eyebrows and slid an appreciate glance toward Teague. “Soccer camp was brutal this week.”
