is.â
âYeah, I do. He already thinks he has me beat.â
âYouâll show him.â
He grinned. âIâll try.â He dragged off his loose T-shirt. He really did have a nice physique. He just didnât show it off the way Fletcher, or even Chase, did. For a moment, I simply enjoyed watching the way his muscles rippled as he slathered on lotion. Then I scooted toward him. âIâll do it.â
Taking the tube, I leisurely spread the sunscreen over his back. âSee? I had an ulterior motive,â I whispered near his ear.
He laughed. âI know your motive. Funds for the shelter.â
âThis, too.â He was so firm. Not an ounce of fat. I ran my hands over his shoulders and back.
âThat feels good,â he said. He twisted around. âLet me return the favor.â
I drew my knees up to my chest, wrapped my armsaround my legs, and pressed my cheek to my knees. Iâd clipped up my hair so Jeremy had easier access to my back. He took his time. The long, slow movements were luxurious.
âMaybe we should give each other massages later,â I suggested.
âWas it on your to-do list for the weekend?â he asked.
âNo, but since weâre not using my itinerary . . .â I shrugged.
âDoes that bother you?â
âA little. How can we relax if weâre constantly worrying about what weâre doing next?â
He kissed my bare shoulder. âDonât worry. Itâll all work out.â
I sighed. âI guess I should be more spontaneous.â
âYou were last night. That was fun.â
âFor all of two minutes.â
âIt was a great two minutes.â
Turning my head back, I managed to capture his mouth for a short kiss. âThanks. You always make me feel like Iâm not totally obsessive.â
I took the tube from him, wiped off some lotion that had oozed out when heâd capped it, and tucked it into its place in the side of my tote. I handed Jeremy his bookâhe usually read books with clockwork or iron in the title. I didnât really get steampunk, but that was okay becauseJeremy wasnât a fan of romance, which I read voraciously. I loved that they always had a happy ending. I pulled out my latest Meg Cabot book.
More people began arriving. Some with surfboards headed out into the waves. I spotted a couple on a Jet Ski. In the distance, a speedboat sliced through the water and a guy dangling from a parasail lifted up. Other people were lying around. Some kids were building a sand castle. A group of fiveâthree guys and two girlsâclaimed the volleyball net near the sandy area where weâd set up. They tossed the ball back and forth among themselves for a while.
Then one of the girls wandered over to Fletcher and thrust out a hip in what I guessed she thought was a provocative pose.
âWant to join our game?â she asked, like Avery wasnât sitting right beside him.
âNo, thanks,â he said.
âBut we need someone on our team.â
He waved his hand. âLot of people around.â
I thought sheâd ask Jeremy next. Instead, she trudged away. I huffed.
âWhat?â Jeremy asked.
âI canât believe how girls notice him.â
âHeâs six three. He could spike the ball without even jumping, so of course they asked him.â
âYouâre tall.â
âFive eleven. Not that tall.â
âTall enough that they should have asked you,â I said.
âIf they asked, I would have declined, so whatâs the point?â
The point was that they should have paid attention to him. That I didnât like that he was ignored. If they werenât impressed with him, who was going to notice him at the gun show? But I couldnât tell him that without hurting his feelings, undermining his confidence. âYouâre right. I just thought it was rude.â
âMaybe they could just tell that I was
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