Beyond the Team (Out of Reach 4)

“But,” I interject, and this time she lets me, “what if he knew who I was yesterday?” I know I’m being irrational, but it’s a real concern for me. Hell, it was a concern for my sisters too. Guys like them… like us for our connection to our dad, or Uncle Drew, and now even Cameron, and I guess Holden for me.

“Do you really think that, Peyton? Do you feel as though you’ve been played?”

I take a minute to think about her question. “No. I don’t feel like I’ve been played, but what if I was?”

“What if you miss out on a great guy because you’re paranoid?”

“It’s not like anything could come of this,” I remind her. “We live too far away. Long-distance relationships never work.”

“Don’t they? Look at your parents and your sisters. Sure, their relationships are not in the true sense of the word long-distance, but they fit the bill pretty closely. Your dad was gone all the time, and so are Cameron and Holden, but they all manage to make it work.”

“That’s different,” I counter.

“How?”

“It just is.”

“Hey, you ladies ready to eat?” Daniel appears next to us. He takes a seat on the lounge chair next to Karina and taps her leg with his. “It’s ready,” he tells us.

“It’s about time; I’m wasting away over here.” Karina stands in her tiny little red bikini. “Lead the way,” she tells him.

His eyes rake over her body, and he grins. “Gladly.” He stands as well and offers her his arm. Then he stops and turns to me. “You coming, Peyton?”

“Yeah. I just need to slip into my shorts.” I stand to do just that, and his words stop me.

“Why would you cover that up?” He waves his hand that’s not linked with Karina’s up my body. “Wait, on second thought, Griff is helping Ollie with the grilling. I don’t want my burgers burnt, so you might want to,” he teases.

“I thought you said the food was done?” I ask.

“Oh, they were getting ready to pull the burgers off when I walked over here, but we shouldn’t take any chances.” He glances over the other side of the pool, where the outdoor kitchen is located. “Never mind, the food is off the grill. We’re safe.” He reaches for my hand and pulls me to him, linking his arm with mine. “This is the life,” he boasts as we walk toward the table and the rest of the group.

“I picked this one up for you,” Daniel says as we stop next to where Griffin is sitting at the table.

Griffin smiles, moves his chair back, and pulls me onto his lap. Don’t get me wrong, I go willingly. “How are you doing?” he whispers low, just so I can hear him. His hand rests on my thigh, and since I’m sitting sideways, I don’t have to turn much to see him.

“I’m fine.” I smile, letting him know that I truly am okay. The heat from his hand on my thigh is so distracting that I can’t really concentrate on replying much more than that. My body is very aware that I’m sitting on his lap in a tiny black bikini. Damn Daniel for not letting me put my shorts on. Griffin is wearing a pair of boardshorts, so there’s not much between us, and I can feel him. My face heats, and not from embarrassment from my reaction to him meeting my family earlier today.

Sure, I wasn’t ready for him to meet my family, but it’s not a big deal. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I’m here for two more days, and then I’ll be heading home to Tennessee, back to college, and Griffin will just be a memory. He’ll be the guy I met on spring break my freshman year of college. We’ll follow each other on social media and like each other’s posts. That’s all this is. I might as well enjoy my time with him, make those memories that will stay with me forever.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, reaching over and grabbing me a paper plate.

“I’m starving, actually.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’m the grill master.”

“I thought that was Oliver?” I tease.

“See.” Oliver points a long finger at me. “Your girl knows what’s up.” He grins.

“He’s not lying,” Sam chimes in. “Griffin makes a mean steak on the grill.”

“Hey.” Oliver slaps his hand to his chest as if he’s offended, but his smile and the laughter of his friends tells me otherwise.

“I’m more of a chicken kind of girl.”

“What? You don’t eat steak?” he asks.

“I do, but it’s just not my favorite. It’s tough, and I feel like I get a workout just trying to chew it.”

“Then you need to have one of mine. They’re so tender you can cut it with a fork.”

“The only steak I’ve ever been able to cut with a fork is the baked steak my mom makes.”