Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Then you definitely need a little fun. I’m having a barbecue. You don’t even have to get dressed.” I motioned my head toward the beach. “Just a few friends. Come hang out with us.”
“Just a few friends?”
“Yep, give or take a guest or two. We like to barbecue on Sundays, and looking at the forecast, this is going to be the best weekend for about a month.”
“Sunday barbecues.” She softened, her shoulders relaxed, and her lower lip found its way between her teeth.
“You’re tempted. Come on, Kitty. Take it one step further. Come down to the beach. You don’t have to stay long or even talk to me. There’s about a dozen other people you could meet. Humans. Vitamin D. Hamburgers. Maybe a beer. Live dangerously.”
A corner of her mouth lifted, and a spark flared in her eyes.
Victory.
“I guess it would be rather un-neighborly to turn you down.”
“A downright affront to southern hospitality,” I confirmed, internally swearing at the jolt of awareness that punched me in the stomach when she gifted me with a full smile.
Why couldn’t a nice, middle-aged guy buy this house? Why didn’t I get another older retired couple who I’d wave to at the odd times I saw them? Or, better, why couldn’t Morgan be ignorable? Just normal?
But hell no, she was a knockout. Stubborn, funny, nice to Fin, with a gorgeous face, soft brown hair, legs for fucking days, and a smile that might actually control the tides if it would appear twice a day—that’s who I got as a neighbor. About as ignorable as a nuclear detonation.
Not that I was doing much to keep clear of the blast radius.
“Okay. Let me throw a suit on and I’ll meet you down there.”
“Or how about I wait right here, outside, while you put one on, and then I walk you down?” I offered.
She scoffed, narrowing her eyes. “You don’t think I’ll show.”
“Would you actually?” I challenged.
“Probably not,” she admitted with a scrunched nose.
“Exactly.” I leaned back against the deck railing, feeling it burn against my T-shirt. “I’ll wait right here.”
“Hopefully the banister holds up.” She rolled her eyes and shut the door. The song changed twice before she opened her door again, wearing a tank top and shorts with a halter-top tie showing in her neckline. Her beach bag was slung over her shoulder, and her sunglasses ate up about half of her face.
“This doesn’t mean I’m giving up my recluse status,” she told me over her shoulder as she skipped down the steps with me hot on her heels.
“Of course not. This is a heatwave miracle.”
She shook her head at me, but I saw those lips lift briefly as we crossed to my backyard.
I lifted the cooler and didn’t miss the way her eyes widened as her gaze dropped to my arms, then darted away.
She cleared her throat. “Um. Need help?”
“Nope. Lead the way.” I motioned toward the path. She held the gate open for me and then closed it once we were through.
“So who all is here?” she asked, then cringed. “Silly question. Like I even know anyone on this island.”
We crested the dune, and I scanned over the party as the unblocked breeze off the ocean hit us full force. “Mostly guys I work with and a few friends.”
“This is not a few friends.”
“I said give-or-take some guests.”
She shot me a look, and I grinned.
The volleyball net was up, with a game in full swing. Sawyer and Garrett held down one side with a couple of the mechanics, and Goodwin was teamed up with Cassidy, Thornson, and a few local girls on the other.
Beach chairs surrounded the area, and the grill was already fired up and manned by Moreno.
“What is it with volleyball and the Outer Banks?” she muttered as we descended the dune steps.
“What?”
“Nothing, it’s all very Top Gun.” She motioned to the game and, no doubt, the shirtless guys.
“Except we’re not fighter pilots or covered in baby oil. I could probably hook us up with some ‘Highway to the Danger Zone’ if you want, though.” We reached the bottom of the dune and started toward the grill. The sand burned my feet where it poured into my slides—hot but not scalding.
“Damn, and I was hoping you were going to offer the baby oil.”
My eyebrows rose with appreciation at her quick comeback.
“What do you guys do, anyway?” she asked, pausing to slip off her flip-flops.
“We’re coa—”
“Heads up!” Garrett shouted.
My head snapped toward the game just in time to see the volleyball on a collision course with Morgan’s head.
I dropped the cooler and swung my hand out. The ball hit my palm with a slap before Morgan even removed her second shoe, its momentum reversing and sending it into the sand.
Morgan gasped, her eyes wide when she met mine.
“You okay?” I asked, shaking the sting out of my hand.