Don't Tell (Don't 1)

“Excuse me. Could you move please? You’re blocking my sun.”

I stood directly in front of Kaitlyn, casting a wide shadow around her chair.

“Sorry, princess. Didn’t mean to interfere with your busy morning.” I hid the smirk.

She was the only one sunning at the Dune Scape pool. The pool was elevated above the parking lot, and from her guests could see the waves crashing on the beach. It wasn’t resort living, but it was a nice view.

She sat straight up, grabbing her bikini straps and retied them. “Is the pool closed or something?” she asked.

I exhaled. Her skin was glistening in the sun and she barely tied the top before I saw the pink of her nipples. Fuck. She was hotter than she should be.

I turned around a

nd grabbed the net from the fence and skimmed the top of the water. “No, but I have work to do. Not everyone can sit at the pool all day,” I joked.

“That’s the point of vacation, isn’t it?”

“Darlin’, like I said, I have work to do.” I scooped a bug into the net.

“Does the management know you talk to guests like this?” I heard the teasing in her voice. When did Kaitlyn Sinclair turn into a sassy spitfire?

I laughed. “Management? Huh, that’s funny.”

“I know you saw me last night,” she blurted.

I paused. “Yeah, looked like you met some friends over at Peabody’s.”

“You could have at least said hi—or something.”

“So could you.” I arched my eyebrows.

What was I supposed to do? Tell her she couldn’t hang out with guys on the island? Lance and Cal were good guys. Ryan would never approve of anyone his sister dated, but at least knew she was safe with them. I’d made sure of that before I left last night.

“True. You’re right. I just played pool—that’s all.” She sat forward and I eyed the curves of her thighs. “Thanks for sending me to Tassels Surf Shop. Lisa was really nice and she set me up with some clothes. I couldn’t get out of those bourbon-stained jeans fast enough.”

“Good choice. That blue looks good on you.” My eyes trailed from her breasts, over her stomach, and down every inch of her legs. I wanted to peel the damn thing off her.

“Thanks.” She adjusted her sunglasses.

“Is that one of the room towels you’re using?” I pointed.

“I-I didn’t bring my own towels.”

“Damn it, Kaitlyn. There aren’t enough towels to use in the rooms and at the pool.” I slammed the basket into the hooks on the wall.

“From the looks of it, you don’t have any guests other than me, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“That’s not the point,” I grumbled. “We have some reservations this week and I just bought those towels.”

“You should have a sign or something. How was I supposed to know I couldn’t use the towels?” She leaned just forward enough that the straps slipped loose on the sides of her top.

I had to get the hell out of here.

“I’ll take care of it.” I pulled the pool gate behind me and headed to the office.

I knew I was being a dick, but I couldn’t stop. It was safer to argue with her—to banter with her as if she was still the little sister interfering. Trying to ruin things.

Ryan would always groan when we had to drop her off at a friend’s house, or worse—pick her up early before we were ready to leave.