Page 101 of This Broken Heart

Nothing will challenge a woman’s confidence faster than being forced to wear a swim suit in front of a bunch of sleek and skinny beauties.

I love my body. My big boobs. My ass.

But I wouldn’t have complained if God had made me just a little skinnier.

I’ve done the whole diet thing. The whole hate what the good lord gave me thing.

I’m done with that. This is the body that I was born with. I’m healthy and happy and that’s what counts.

But tell that to the ribs I can count on Parker’s sides. Charlie’s hips are literally concave.

Only Reese has any meat on her bones and she’s still stunning.

I am having serious regrets about packing a bikini. What the actual fuck was I thinking? Luckily, I also packed a cover up. I pull the oversized linen shirt around my body and follow the girls down to the beach. Josh easily catches up to us and then I’m sweating all over again.

I have seen this man naked.

I have seenallof him naked. And yet, seeing him with those red Baywatch-esque trunks hanging low on his hips is sending butterflies through my tummy. A whole boatload of out-of-control butterflies.

The girls stake a spot out on the sand, setting out their towels, putting up an umbrella, before scampering down to the water. I’m hoping Josh will follow them so I can wither up into a husk of insecurities all by myself, but he stays right next to me. “Aren’t you coming?”

I turn, spreading out my towel. “You go ahead. I’ll be down in a bit.”

He comes up behind me, tugging at the back of my cover-up. “Take this off.”

His voice is low and husky. It sends a fizzy feeling down my spine. Putting his hand on my waist, he guides me back around until I’m facing him. Blushing, I let the linen fabric slide down my shoulders.

He steps incrementally closer. “You’re blushing… everywhere.”

Sure enough, my boobs are flushed pink, just like my neck and cheeks. I look up at his face and I’m almost knocked over by the desire I see there.

Some of that insecurity, the parts that were freezing me up, just sort of melt. I don’t need him to know that I’m a beautiful woman. But I do need him to remind me now and then. And right now, I’m remembering the countless times he’s told me that I’m pretty and I’m thinking maybe it’s time I start believing that he means it.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs. His fingers skate over my bare waist. “You’re going to get me into trouble.”

The soft break in his voice, the low rumble of his words, send my thoughts into a tailspin. I can’t think of an adequate response that doesn’t sound like utter gibberish, so I just start towards the water. “Race you there.”

He catches me easily. Hooking an arm around my waist, he spins me behind him and takes off at a full sprint.

I can’t remember the last time I played in the water. My friends and I aren’t exactly lake people. And with this pale skin, I tend to burn.

As much fun as I’m having with the Olson siblings, I have an internal clock that is reminding me that my sun exposure limit is up.

Josh and the girls are playing some sort of twist on Marco Polo that I don’t completely understand. It involves shouting Mark Bolo, a name that they all find absurdly funny. More inside jokes amongst siblings. I’m not in on the joke, but their humor is contagious. Smiling to myself, I wade out of the water and make my way across the beach to sit under the umbrella.

I reapply sun block and dig out my phone to catch up on the book I was reading. It’s literally a romantic beach read and with the sound of the waves crashing against the sand and the smell of salt in the air, I am happy as a clam.

Trace and Maven come barreling down a few minutes later, followed by their grandma and grandpa. I let them pull me back down to the water, where the two of them chase waves, shrieking with joy as the water comes foaming up to meet them.

Josh wades out to join the kids, pretending to be a sea monster, to their utter delight. Keith makes his way down to the water, taking over as sea monster.

Josh comes to stand next to me. He’s standing a safe distance away, not blowing our cover, but close enough that I can almost feel the warmth from his body. “You look like a sugar cookie.”

“Hmm?”

He pretends to stretch, but glances pointedly at my ass. “Covered in sugar.”

I brush my hands over my behind, finding it covered in sand.

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