too hard. “No one told her that she isn’t supposed to.”
Ryan laughs. “I hope you put on sunscreen,” he says. “With your light skin, you’re going to be in trouble without it.”
“I need to do that.” I check my phone as I fish in my bag for the sunscreen. There are no messages. I’m debating trying Katie’s cell phone again, when Ryan pulls his T-shirt up over his head and tosses it on the sand. I find myself being treated to an up close view of his taut and tanned top half. Ryan is no weightlifter, but he’s naturally toned with smoothly defined muscles. My eyes roam over his narrow hips and flat stomach before moving upward and suddenly clashing with his eyes. Embarrassed, I quickly swing my gaze back to the inside of my beach bag. I can feel the flush creeping up my neck to my cheeks. Because I already have the sunscreen in my hand, I pretend to be looking for something else. Perhaps he’ll think the heat has turned my face bright red.
After retrieving nothing further from my bag, I lean forward and self-consciously proceed to remove my tank top. Still sitting, I then shimmy out of my shorts, excruciatingly aware of Ryan’s eyes on me during the entire maneuver. I’m not ashamed of my body, but I don’t have the self-confidence to stand up and carelessly pull off my clothes, knowing he’s watching me the entire time. Having a beach date certainly provides far more information than the average first date does, at least my average first dates.
I squeeze lotion into my hand and begin to cover my legs and arms. Then I move on to my shoulders, stomach, and finally my face. The white lotion is still warm from being locked in the trunk, and it has a light coconut fragrance, the definitive smell of summer.
“Want me to get your back?” Ryan asks.
I smile. I anticipated and hoped for this offer from him. I gladly hand the lotion to him as I swivel in my chair to offer him my back. To my surprise, I startle slightly at the shock that runs through me at his first touch.
He hesitates and asks, “You okay?”
I just nod and laugh it off. Then I feel the light pressure of his fingers sliding over my skin, covering my shoulder blades, skimming over my bikini strap and then rubbing firmly against my lower back. The contact feels amazing. He’s thorough as he moves over every bit of exposed skin. Even though I’m sure my back has been adequately covered, his hands linger as he slowly continues to massage my neck and shoulders, and then he traces the line of my spine.
When I glance over my shoulder to smile at him, his hands still as his eyes meet mine. His eyelids are heavy. After a moment, he removes his hands and passes the lotion back to me.
“Your turn?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No need. I never burn.”
I’m both surprised and disappointed. His skin does seem to have a naturally tan, almost Mediterranean tone to it, but now I have no excuse to touch him. Doesn’t he want me to? Then I realize that Wes is back. The creak of his chair alerts me to the fact that he has joined us again. He has also returned well within the hour he had been allowed. Either he got bored or he actually listened to his brother.
“How was your walk?” Ryan asks.
“Fine.” Wes’s eyes travel between Ryan and I, lingering over my chest long enough to make me uncomfortable.
“You should be wearing sunscreen,” I tell Wes to divert his attention. “You’re paler than I am.” I hand it to him and to my surprise he listens and begins applying it.
I turn back to Ryan. “So, you never burn?”
“Nope,” he repeats. Then he leans in closer to me. “Not from the sun at least.”
I can feel my eyes widen in response as my traitorous cheeks start to heat again.
Ryan tries to hide his growing grin as he stands and moves toward the cooler in front of us. When I come back to earth again, I focus on the food he’s pulling out. I can hardly believe the lunch Ryan has packed. I’ve brought nothing. For some reason, I assumed there would be a food stand here. I realize now that there isn’t. From the cooler, Ryan has withdrawn about half a dozen sandwiches, grapes, peaches, and a bag of chips. He next