Page 37 of Always Been Yours

Smiling, Asher replies, “Sure. I’m teaching Daisy to surf myself—while Blake does the indoor swim lessons—but if it’s possible to have you all meet at the same time, I think that would be great. Otherwise, I can get you hooked up with one of the instructors.”

“Should be easy enough to work around practices, if you’re okay with that, Grady.”

“Yeah, sure. I think it would be good for Daisy to have a friend to learn with. She’s already excited to surf but Stella isn’t interested at all.”

From there, the conversation flows freely, naturally moving between group conversations and breaking off into pairs.

It doesn’t happen for a while but eventually, Vivi and I are left sitting together quietly, while everyone else is distracted by theirown conversations.

After a minute or two, I clear my throat to get her attention. I’m looking down at my glass on the table, but I can feel her eyes on me.

“Lexi didn’t tell you I was coming, did she?” I inquire, lowering my voice so only she can hear me over the music.

Her head snaps toward her best friend before turning back to me. She takes a drink of her margarita. It looks like a dark, almost crimson color, and I find myself wondering what all her favorite flavors are.

She peers at me like she’s trying to see into my very soul. I make eye contact with her and let her read what’s lying there… Hoping it’s whatever she’s looking for.

“No, she didn’t,” she admits. “I figured it was Asher.MaybeHudson, but that seemed unlikely.”

I couldn’t fight the curiosity that takes over. Both of her brothers seemed happy enough to see me. “Why was that unlikely?”

“He doesn’t even want to come here himself, and he isn’t cruel enough to subject someone else to this torture.”

We both laugh quietly, and I look at her, really look at her, for the first time tonight. I’m on my second beer by now and maybe that’s why I let my eyes glide slowly down her body knowing she’s watching.

Her lips are painted a crimson red and she’s biting the lower one. She has thin but dramatic lines across her eyelids. Her cheeks have a pink blush to them that would look natural if I didn’t know what her actual blush looks like. Her hair flows around her in soft waves, appearing like she left it to dry on its own accord.

I’m thankful for the dark room as soon as my eyes run down her chest and ribs, which are showing more than I had originally realized. She’s perfectly filling out a black floral print dress thatstops just above her ankles, from what I can see sitting down. The top, however, feels almost indecent in the best way.

I’ve never seen Genevieve’s naked chest but lately I’ve found myself thinking a lot about her perfect breasts.

And there is no doubt in my mind that they areperfect.

Considering the times we’ve seen each other at work or at my parents’ house, it makes sense that her tops have had higher necklines. But that’s not the case tonight.

The front of her dress brings two triangles over her chest, coming to a bow in the middle. I don’t know if it’s sewn together but it looks like I could pull one side and get a perfect view. There’s another triangle that’s cut out across her sternum and lower ribs. Her soft freckled skin in plain sight and her waist highlighted beautifully.

When I look back at her face, it’s faint but there’s a real blush creeping up now.

I can’t hide the satisfied grin that spreads across my face when I ask, “Does it bother you that I’m here?”

I can see her throat dip with a swallow. “No.”

“Good.”

“I really don’t care,” she retorts, grabbing her drink, taking a large gulp and not looking back at me.

I lean closer to her ear. “Why are you blushing then?”

Her glare snaps to me. Her cheeks burn brighter.

“Maybe it just makes me uncomfortable when someone ogles me,” she hisses and finishes off her drink.

I smirk down at her, calling her bluff. “Fine, I won’t look anymore.”

My head flicks back to the karaoke stage—some college kid is singing what I assume is the newest pop hit—but I can feel the frustration in her small bodygrowing.

Genevieve doesn’t like to be denied things, especially attention.

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