I lied. I told Whit last night that I was going to study. And I probably should have, but I didn’t. I ordered room service and binged Hallmark movies.
That’s not entirely atypical behavior for me, but this time I wasn’t doing it to treat myself. I was doing it to avoid Caleb. No, not Caleb. Whit. I need to remember that.
The man looks sinful in basketball shorts and fitted t-shirts. He makes jeans and hoodies look runway ready. But in a linen suit? He’s irresistible. And that’s a problem.
For a million reasons, Whit needs to be resistible. And he’s not.
So, I had no choice but to flee under the guise of reading.
But today, I need to track him down so we can talk. I need to put this foolish attraction aside. We’re related, for heaven’s sake! And I need to make sure we’re on the same page.
I can’t imagine Whit’s an early riser. He seems much more the roll-out-of-bed-at noon type, so I’m surprised to see him stroll past me just after nine. I nearly leap out of my lounge chair as I call after him. “Whit, wait up.” He slows to a stop at the sound of my voice and turns toward me. When his heated gaze hits me, I realize my towel and cover-up are still on my lounge chair, meaning I’m standing in front of my brand-new stepbrother in a yellow bikini.
Well, then.
But there’s no time to backtrack.
“Whit.” I smile, willing my pulse to stop racing. I’ve certainly seen men in board shorts before. “Will you join me?” I ask, gesturing to my abandoned lounger.
“Uh...I’m good,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
His ready rejection stings, but then I notice the wary look in his eyes and follow his line of sight. Oh my God, I’m an idiot. “The pool. Damnit—”
“It’s not like that,” he shakes his head. “I’m not a total basket case, Luce. I can be near water,” he assures me, but flinches as he says the word. “Fine,” he sighs. “That’s a complete lie. I’m two seconds from losing my shit, but I need to be embarrassed in front of you like I need another hole in my dick, so…”
Grasping his hand in mine, I lead us away from the water and to a table in the center of the buffet. It’s crowded and bustling, but that doesn’t seem to bother Whit. We fill our plates and order coffee, but when we sit down, an awkward silence descends.
“It was a beautiful ceremony—” I start.
“You looked beautiful yesterday,” he says at the same time. “Although I prefer today’s outfit, if I’m being honest.” He says this last remark with no hint of sarcasm. He’s just being Whit—honest and flirty, and totally adorable. But I have no time or room for adorable men, even an adorable Golden Retriever like Whit.
Knowing we need to address the elephant in the room, I clear my throat and take a drink of coffee, hoping the warm brew will give me courage. “Whit, about…us…” I say, half-expecting him to play dumb.
Thankfully, he doesn’t. “Look, you made it clear that what happened in August was goodbye. I get it. I read you loud and clear, Lucy Ernestine.”
“Good,” I say, but the word comes out weaker than I intend.
“Good,” he confirms, more interested in his scrambled eggs than our conversation.
“So… how’s school?” I ask. Small talk can’t be that hard, can it?
“It’s good,” he tells me, taking a sip of his own coffee. “I’m living with Booker, Ty, and Knox, so I can’t really complain. You kicking ass and taking names in Wisconsin? Your dad seems to think so.”
I blush. “Don’t get him started. But yes, things are good. Great, really, and they’ll be better if I get this internship. My interview went well yesterday, but I won’t hear anything until after the first of the year.”
“Good luck,” he says as the conversation peters out. We sit in silence for a bit, but there’s a tension that still crackles in the air between us.
“You know what we should do?” Whit asks.
“What?” I ask warily.
“Get matching pjs. Holiday ones.”
At the look of horror on my face, he just laughs.
“Yeah, definitely matching ones. Maybe with a little trap door at the butt?” He whips out his phone, ostensibly looking for the perfect pair.
“Why in the world would you and I have matching pajamas?”
