courtesy beach shower was going to handle all that.
John shook his head as he levered himself up from his beach chair. “Duty calls. I appreciate the talk.” He grimaced. “And no offense, but I think I’m set on sharing feelings with you for a little bit.”
I sent him an earnest look. “I promise, nothing but football, hockey, and boobs until Christmas.”
He chuckled. “I’m not sure I want to hear your thoughts on boobs,” he said as he walked away, presumably to find the mischievous Mandy.
“My thoughts on boobs are a delight,” I called after him.
“Should I even ask?”
I glanced to my right to see Journey standing there, a slight smile on his face. He looked exhausted but pleased with himself. That was probably due to the camera hanging around his neck. He was tanned and probably a little sunburned, judging from his slightly rosy shoulders.
“I told you to put on more sunscreen,” I fretted, like any good mother hen.
“Don’t mother me, Fossie.” He grinned as he leaned down and braced his hands on either side of my beach chair. And suddenly we were face-to-face, those warm amber eyes so close I could see the gold sunburst pattern in his irises. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” was all I managed before he gave me a smacking kiss. He tasted like Funfetti cake. I was hard-pressed not to suck on his tongue. The knowledge that my swim trunks might be loose, but hid very little, kept me on the path of righteousness. That and the fact that I could probably talk my way into his bed tonight. No sane man could watch JJ’s ass in swim trunks all day and not pencil in some time to fuck it. And I was an extremely sane man.
“I’m glad you could make it,” he said.
“So am I.”
I knew we were smiling goofily at each other, but I couldn’t seem to stop. Not even with the attention we were attracting.
“Kiss, kiss, kiss,” Charlie chanted, and we laughed.
A few others took up the hue and cry. I was just thankful that Mindy was otherwise occupied. She would’ve probably pulled out a pad and pen—I was pretty sure she was writing Journey and Cam fanfiction.
“What do you think?” he asked, his amber eyes sparkling. “Should we give ’em a show?”
What the hell? There was plenty of time tomorrow to think about how stupid we were being. “Let’s give ’em somethin’ to talk about, Sutton.”
“Oh God,” he groaned, “don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I asked innocently.
“Get all Southern. You put on an accent so thick, Paula Dean would ask for a goddamned translator.”
“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit.”
“You’re not even from here.” His eyes danced. “Weren’t you born in Pennsylvania?”
“Kiss,” Charlie reminded us.
Journey chuckled right before his mouth met mine. We kept it perfectly chaste, like two nuns who had to buss cheeks to get their rosary beads back. That didn’t stop everyone from making exaggerated “oohs” and “ahhs.” Matt even gave us a wolf whistle that made me pray for my tympanic membrane. When Journey pulled back, his cheeks were flushed and he was laughing.
I’d never seen a more beautiful sight in my life.
“All right ya’ll.” He clapped his hands. “It’s getting late, and I need to get all these tables and chairs back to the rental store.” His statement was met with groans and boos. “You can still sit on towels! I’m not paying a late fee because you think you’re too good for sand.”
Journey met some vigorous booing with a cheeky middle finger, and people started vacating their chairs. Surprisingly, John immediately started breaking down tables. After a moment, Mark got up and joined him. Matt maintained his position, drinking a beer, until his brothers dumped him out of his beach chair and onto the sand. After a few moments of hushed conversation, he got up and started helping, too.
I turned to find Journey looking at me, a brow raised. “Should I even ask what you said to him?”
“Something you should’ve said a long time ago.”
He huffed. “Nosy bastard.”
“He’s not a little kid anymore, JJ. None of them are.”
“I still want to protect them. How is this your business anyway?” he demanded without heat.
Everything about your happiness is my business. Since he’d shown me what it was like to have a real friend in high school, I’d been willing to walk over coals for him. Decades and struggles of life hadn’t changed that. I didn’t bother to answer his rhetorical question. Instead, I kissed him on