“Well, y’all rocked that long-distance stuff.” She motioned to my Kindle. “Just don’t forget about the real world, okay?” She gawked past me to a crowd of guys playing Ultimate Frisbee near the surf. “Like that piece of eye candy!”
I peeked to see what had her drooling like a hound. “You know, there’s more to a man than how he looks. You have to know what’s—”
Sweet Lord, have mercy.
My Kindle hit the sand with my jaw. I’d never seen a man so beautiful, so raw in energy, or so…delicious looking. He stood easily over six feet tall and had no problem leaping for the Frisbee. His blue board shorts hung low on his hips, and his chest was beautifully bare, colored in tattoos that stretched across his abdomen, half his chest, and down one arm. The Florida sun caressed the line of his carved abs, giving him a fine sheen of perspiration that made his skin glow.
His blond hair was cut close, but long enough to wave, and it framed a gorgeous face. Strong nose, angular lines of his cheekbones, a solid chin, and oh…dimples in his cheeks when he grinned. He belonged on a beach. I halfway expected to find a label on him that said “Mr. California.” He looked laid-back, even by Florida standards.
My heartbeat sped up, my lips parted, and my hands itched to touch him. Heck, I was shocked my thighs hadn’t popped open of their own volition. What color were his eyes? I couldn’t tell from this distance, and maybe that saved me from the utter disgrace of admitting that I was attracted to someone other than my boyfriend.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen someone and simply…wanted, but I sure did now.
Mr. California’s eyes focused on us when Morgan whistled through her fingers.
“Morgan!” I hissed.
“Oh, lighten up, Lee. I whistled; I didn’t drop his pants. Not that I’d mind that.”
Heat raced through my cheeks, not because her suggestion embarrassed me but because in that second I envisioned myself sliding those board shorts down over his hips and— No! What on earth was wrong with me?
Will. Will. Will. I forced his face to my mind, his close-cropped brown hair, his gentle, amber-colored eyes. Yes, Will. Not golden beach god over there.
“You could say hi, Lee,” Morgan suggested. “Flirting never hurt anyone.”
“No, thank you.” First, I wouldn’t do that to Will. Second, what would I even say to someone like that? Hi, I’m Paisley. I’m twenty years old, and my heart is a ticking time bomb. Want to be friends? I thought not.
“There’s Luke! Do you want to hop on the WaveRunners with us?” Morgan asked, waving back at a guy near the water.
“I’d rather not. There’s a red flag out.” Hence a giant vat of death just hankering to swallow me whole.
“That one’s just the warning; the beach isn’t closed or anything.”
“I’m just not a fan of the water.”
“Okay, well, I’m getting your feet in the water sometime today, spoilsport!” She took off with a smile and a wave.
I snuck a glance over at Mr. California, who was surrounded by at least four different bikini-clad girls. It was no surprise; boys like that attracted attention. Heck, I was happy with Will, but Mr. California had my attention, too.
I sighed. There would be no reading if staring at him was an option. I traded my Kindle for my hot-pink sarong and stood, wrapping it around my waist.
The pier jutted out over the crystal blue-green water, and I wandered over to it, keeping my eyes fixed in front of me and not on the Frisbee players. That would never be me, running up and down the beach for fun. I couldn’t run like that if my life depended on it. Actually, my life depended on me not running.
A fresh wave of heat wafted off the wooden boards of the pier before a gust of wind took it away. My sarong billowed out behind me as I explored, entranced by the rhythm of the waves.
When I reached the middle of the deserted pier, I leaned on the railing, my hair whipping me in the face and sticking to my lip balm.
Someone touched my bare shoulder. I turned, pulling my hair off my face. It was one of the guys from Morgan’s group. He was massive and scared the daylights out of me when he swayed, obviously drunk, and nearly knocked me over. “You’re Lee, right?” he slurred, his eyes vague.
“Yes?”
“Morgan told me to get your feet wet.” He bent down and plucked me right off my feet. Ugh. He smelled like a brewery.
My muscles stiffened in protest, and I pushed away from him. “I’d really rather not. I’m fixin’ to go read. Could you please put me down?” I tried to be polite, but when he started for the other side of the pier, panic set in.
“She said you’d say anything to get outta going in the water.” He laughed, his drawl sounding more sloshed than southern.
“Please, don’t!” I cried out, shoving away from him in earnest.