“I had a concussion.”
“You had a bruise, Humpty. Meanwhile, I’m the last one standing, so I have to man up and get help. A trend that continues to this day, since Mastermind likes to snooze through any accountability whatsoever, and Pretty Boy usually ends up in his underwear with a bunch of ladies fussing over him.”
“You’re the hero.” Amber smiles up at him.
“Always.” He grins back at her.
“Could I trouble you for an act of heroism and ask you to point me in the direction of the ladies’ room?” she asks.
He slides out of the seat. “I’ll show you.”
“Hey, if it weren’t for me, you two losers would never have any fun,” Dylan says as Matt leads Amber away. Then he mutters, “Oh, fuck,” and practically vaults over the table. “Back in a sec,” he says before he cuts through the crowd to a pair of girls making their way toward our cabana. I didn’t even notice them, but very little of what happens at The Cabana escapes Dylan’s notice. For sure not the arrival of two of Becca’s girlfriends who side-hustle as a walking pharmacy. He can’t have them dealing shit in here. Not unless he wants to spend the foreseeable future with vice cops and DEA crawling up his ass. But he’s also smooth as ice, which is why they’re all now standing together laughing. Rather than blocking their path, it looks like he’s just really excited to greet them. The guy can muster up some convincing acting skills when he needs to.
“You know, you don’t have to hang out here with me…”
Very convincing acting skills, apparently. I turn to Kendall. “I’m exactly where I want to be. They’re Dylan’s friends.” I throw him under the bus without hesitation.
The tall brunette beckons me over with a smile and a wave.
“You sure? Looks like they’re your friends, too. I can fend for myself until Amber gets back.”
She sounds indifferent, but her expression doesn’t quite match her tone. The casual smile tries to tell me she’s cool either way, but her eyes? Her gaze clings to me like she’s hoping I don’t leave.
I’m not going anywhere. I rest my arm along the seat back and prop my ankle on my knee. “I’m not Dylan’s wingman. He knows why I came here tonight. Matt knows. I’d venture a guess even Amber knows. You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to know, so I’m going to spell it out for you.”
She holds up her hand. “You don’t owe me any explanations—”
“Kendall”—I take her hand and thread our fingers together—“I came here tonight to be with you.”
Those guileless blue eyes narrow. “Why?”
The one-word question sounds like a challenge, and I’m more than up for it. “Because I like you. Because we’re neighbors. Because members of the Speed Racer Live Action Movie Fan Club need to stick together. There aren’t very many of us.”
“True.”
“And because you bake the shit out of oatmeal raisin cookies, and now I’m driven to see if this thing between us could lead to…you know…”
Golden eyebrows practically disappear into her hairline.
“…chocolate chip cookies.”
A smile accompanied by a little laugh tells me I’ve passed her test. “I guess that might be arranged.”
I know an advantage when I hold one, so I keep talking. “Besides, fate brought us together. Who are we to question the magic?”
She laughs again. “I hate to burst your bubble, but I don’t believe in fate. My aunt’s invitation to house-sit brought us together.”
“And you were available. That’s fate.”
Her smile fades and gives way to a frown. She sighs and pushes a hand through her hair. “Not exactly. More like a chance to—” Her voice cuts off, like she caught herself before she shared something she didn’t mean to.
“A chance to what?” I gently prod. She can’t leave me hanging.
“Think.”
Five little letters can carry some serious weight. Every ounce of it lands in the center of my chest.
“Kendall…”