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“I like this about you.”
Lyle snaps his gaze to mine, sharp, focused.
“You’re candid. Whether it’s an apology or admonishment or contemplation of the world.” I grin. “I . . . I trust what you say.”
He flushes, tries to take a sip and spills tea down his front. “Of course,” he murmurs, laughing at himself. He sets the mug down. “Can I compliment you?”
I lean in and pluck at his wet shirt, laughing. “As revenge?”
“It’s only fair,” he growls.
I rise from my seat and hurriedly slip into my jacket. “Another time. It’s late, I have work at five tomorrow.”
“You’re running away again.”
“The faster, the better.”
Chapter Ten
I know the guys have wetsuits on out there, but they have to be icicles by now. I zip my coat right up to my chin and rub my hands together. Maybe if I weren’t sitting here—if I were in the water—I’d be warmer too.
I shiver again, dig a smooth stone out of the sand, and throw it at the tideline.
I try to stay objective. Scott’s surfing is getting better. He isn’t falling off the board as often. He’s a strong swimmer. He’s careful. He’s safe.
I throw another stone.
“Your brother is amped out there,” Robin says as he and Scott drip their way out of the sea and to the towels I’m sitting on. Scott sets down his surfboard and dives onto his outstretched towel.
“I’m done. Those waves are cranking.”
Robin laughs, carefully rests his board next to me, and sits himself on the other side. “They aren’t bad. For a gremlin.” He looks at me, eyes lit and smiling. “Nice that you came along.”
He blinks away and focuses on Scott, but I have that prickly feeling he’s very aware of me. But is he aware how taxing it is, watching every wave roll over them? Holding my breath, heart hammering, until I see them emerge?
“How about tomorrow we do some Dawn Patrol?” he says.
Scott beams as he nods and jumps to his feet. “Come on, Jase, I’m freezing.”
We carry our things back to the truck, me trailing behind, watching Robin rib my brother. We pile into the front, Scott squeezed between Robin and me, the salty smell of the sea coming off them and their slick hair.
I glance over Scott at Robin. He faces me, one eyebrow rising. Swim with us, swim with us, his eyes are pleading.
I grip the wheel.
“I’ll see if Lyle wants to teach me,” I say, and Robin immediately straightens.
“He’ll be back in a couple of days—”
“It’s been three weeks, give him time to settle back in,” I hedge. “Paid trips to Europe. I’m so envious.”
Envious. Relieved. Since I finished his garden, I haven’t known if or how I should be around him. Even to the point, the day before he left, he caught me ducking out of his sight behind a tree.
He rounded the trunk behind me and tapped my shoulder. I almost jumped out of my boots.
He laughed and gestured to my hiding spot. “This is familiar.”
I groaned. “Busted.”
“Busted doing what, exactly?”
“Being flustered.”
“My doing?”
I lowered my voice, “I’m just . . . The magic thing. I’m still . . . you know. And you’re . . . candid.”
“Well . . .”
I pressed a palm to his mouth, glowering, and he chuckled warmly against my skin.
Scott’s laugh jerks me back to the present. I park outside Robin’s and he leads us inside. “Clean up, then it’s on to dinner.”
Half an hour later, Robin and I are peeling and chopping in the kitchen while Scott hovers around Dusky’s cage. “Feeding him is easy,” he says as he rations out flies for Dusky. “It’s not like I’d forget or anything.”
Robin stops slicing potatoes to shake his head. “Not happening. You know my rule.”
I grin over at Scott and dump the celery into the pan. It sizzles, and curls of buttery garlic steam rise to my nose. Robin whistles as he finishes with the potatoes and starts on the pumpkin. It feels comfortable. Like we’re a family.
I stir the pan and peek at Robin. “What are your plans for the weekend?”
“Dunno. But Lyle will be back.”
He drops a handful of potato into the pot. The butter spits and he jerks his arm back, brushing against mine. He watches me stir and says low, “I like that you’re giving lessons another try.”
Scott calls cheekily, “Don’t get your hopes up.”
I toss a bit of pumpkin at the back of my brother’s head.
“Hey!” He picks up the offending vegetable and glances from the lizard to Robin. “Can I feed this to him?”
Robin nods as Scott continues to yap, “Swimming will never be his thing. He’d be better spending his time impressing a nice guy who actually digs him.”
Robin blinks a few times.
I glare at Scott, who snaps his mouth shut and bows his head, blushing furiously.
I skirt around the table to get to him, narrowly managing not to slap the back of his head. He chokes up an apology as I steer him out to the hall.
