Page 21 of Taking Denver

Because Wyatt Ledger is dead, and he deserves it.

The moment is shattered by singing, and I raise my brows. “He actually has quite a nice voice.”

“Yeah, we were in a band in high school,” Sebastian admits. “We were called Trifecta.”

“That’s the dorkiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He grins. “Yep.”

We talk for a few minutes. I tell him about my island adventures with Wesson, skirting around questions about why I’ve been on vacation for three months now. Sebastian tells me he works in the ER and loves his job but needs a break.

“Ethan needs a break, too,” Sebastian says. “He works far too much.”

As if summoned by his name, the shower water stops running. A door opens and closes, and Ethan’s voice drifts to us from the bedroom. “Sebastian, you need to give me a pep talk about Denver.”

A wicked smirk spreads across Sebastian’s face, and he puts a finger to his lips. “Oh, yeah?” he calls back. “Why?”

“Because I’m doing that thing where I over-fucking-think,” Ethan declares. “She’s intense, and I like it, and I…” He grunts, and it sounds like a closet door slams shut. “When you meet her, you’ll get it. She’s beautiful, she’s funny, she’s just… alive. And I’m going to fuck it up by either acting too aloof or going all in like an idiot.”

My neck warms. Part of me had worried he hadn’t felt what I had during our hours together, but clearly, he had. He likes me. And the flood of butterflies from that statement should be a red flag when all I want is a fling, but… I can’t help it. He likes me. Me.

Sebastian scrunches his nose and leans close to me. “Now I feel bad that you heard that.”

Wesson gets up and wanders into the bedroom, the tip of his golden tail visible through the door. Sebastian winces.

“Sebastian, why is Denver’s dog in here?” Ethan asks, appearing in the doorway in a towel. When he spots me, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Hello, Denver.”

I give him a jaunty wave. “Hi.”

“You heard all that?”

I nod. “Yep.”

“Did I sound pathetic?”

“Yep.”

Despite the flush in his chest, he’s clearly holding back a smile. He folds his arms as he leans against the bedroom doorframe. “Ready for the beach?”

I grin. “Yep.”

Chapter 8

Ethan

Denver stretches her legs out on her towel, wiggling her red-painted toes as Sebastian dumps sand on them. She left an excited Wesson with the receptionist, something she told me she sometimes did so he could greet the guests. We’ve been at the beach for an hour, and Sebastian is having far too much fun with a bucket and spade as I watch with quiet amusement.

“You’re like a kid,” Denver says, tilting her head, her braid falling over her shoulder.

Sebastian focuses on his task. “My life is too serious back home. I’m on vacation. I’m doing whatever I want.”

“And… you want to bury me?” Denver asks, glancing at me. “Should I be worried?”

I laugh. I’m on the towel beside her, trying desperately not to notice whenever our elbows brush. Being here with her feels remarkably… normal. Our time together last night has switched something in her, a flip of a page in the most interesting book I’ve ever read.

Once Denver’s feet are successfully buried, Sebastian stands. “I’m going for a swim. You coming?”

Denver pats her shoulders. “I’ll burn to a crisp, but have fun.”

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