meant I spent the first week saying things I hadn’t thought about. And the second week thinking about things I never got up the nerve to say. It was just awful. Terrible. I never want to go through that again. So…yeah. No.” She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. What was the question again?”
“I’ve forgotten,” he said, his head spinning because he’d inadvertently hopped on the carnival ride known as Alex Merriweather’s Motor Mouth.
“Mason! Wait!” Maddy darted past them and ran down the steps to catch Mason on the beach. “Your shirt! I forgot to give it back to you.”
Mason took the gray T-shirt from her, handing her his rifle so he could tug the garment over his head.
“Well, now that’s a pity,” Louisa said as she and others pushed past Bran and Alex to gather on the front porch. Bran was overwhelmed by the smells of lip balm, body butter, and hair gel. A million high-school memories swirled through his head. “That man should never wear a shirt.”
Alex nodded. “Preach it, sister.”
“And he should be bronzed for posterity,” Louisa added. “So generations of women can appreciate his magnificence. Like Michelangelo’s statue of David.”
Alex answered with an “Amen!”
“I’m gonna be sick to my stomach,” Bran complained. “You.” He pointed at Louisa. “You’re too young to be saying things like that about a man who’s old enough to be your father.”
“Right,” Louisa scoffed. “If he started having kids at, like, what? Sixteen?”
“It’s a biological possibility,” Bran insisted. “And you.” He narrowed his gaze on Alex. “You shouldn’t be encouraging the delinquency of minors.”
“No need to be jealous, dude.” The brunette with the Jersey accent and the tough-girl piercings grinned at him. Maddy had introduced her as Donna. “We think you’re totes adorbs too.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry?”
“Totally adorable,” she clarified. “Like an older, taller, hotter version of Benjamin Ciaramello.”
“Who?” he was amazed to find himself asking.
“Ah, come on. You know,” Sally Mae drawled. “He played a high school football player on Friday Night Lights. The TV show, not the movie.”
“Really?” Alex asked. She glanced at Bran, her eyes narrowed, her expression considering. “Yup. I guess I can see it. Around the eyes and mouth, maybe. Hey, isn’t that show a little retro for you guys? I mean, it was popular when I was in high school.”
“We stream it on Netflix,” Louisa said. “Mostly to catch shirtless Taylor Kitsch moments.”
“Ah.” Alex nodded again. “Yes. Those are nice, aren’t they?”
“What did I just say about contributing to the delinquency of minors?” Bran asked, completely disconcerted to be standing within earshot of this ridiculous conversation.
“Relax, Rambo,” Alex said. “It’s just girl talk.”
“Yeah.” Louisa grinned at him, her dark eyes glinting. “Talking about shirtless guys is pretty much de rigueur for the seventeen-year-old set.”
“Good use of an SAT word.” Donna slapped her a high five.
“So don’t you go putting a shirt on, too, sí?” Louisa continued, batting her lashes. “You shirtless is by far the best thing that’s happened to any of us tonight.”
Bran sputtered as Alex hee-hawed beside him like a crazed donkey.
“You,” he said again, this time pointing at Alex’s nose. “Cut it out.”
“Hey, I’m just—”
Before Alex could finish, Sally Mae piped up with, “Are y’all really Navy SEALs?”
He turned to the blond, ponytailed teenager. “Former Navy SEALs,” he corrected. “Who told you that?”
“Miss Maddy,” Donna answered. “She said you were the baddest of the bad, and we didn’t have to worry about a thing as long as you’re protecting us.”
“Man, that’s hot,” Louisa said.
“He’s hot,” Sally Mae added.
“Yo, they’re both hot,” Donna finished. “The big one in a fierce, scary kind of way. And this one”—she tilted her chin toward Bran—“in a dreamy kind of way.”
Bran felt a muscle twitching in his jaw. And when Sally Mae asked, “Are y’all the ones who took out Bin Laden?” he turned and pointed his finger at Maddy. “Madison Powers!” he thundered.
“What?” She blinked at him from the beach.
“Control your charges!”
The teens dissolved into giggles and Maddy shook her head with exasperation. “Come on, girls!” she called. “Leave Grumpy Gus alone.”
“Don’t you mean hot, shirtless Grumpy Gus?” Donna hooted as they traipsed down the stairs to join Maddy and Mason on the beach.
“I need a shower,” Bran told Alex. “I feel dirty.”
Alex rolled her eyes. “I think you’ll survive.”
Rick exited the cottage, looking a little incongruous in his khaki shorts and shirt with the SCAR-L rifle slung over his shoulder. But Bran had to give it to the guy. He’d comported