Page 80 of Off Court Fix

“Does it matter?”

Dave tilts his head, and I can see he’s thinking that one over for a bit. “Is it Hillary Remington?”

I blink. “She’s married.”

“Has that stopped you before?”

I’m about to remind Dave that the woman he’s referring to wasseparatedat the time, but I don’t want to waste any more brain cells or oxygen on this when my phone vibrates from inside my pocket.

Don’t hate me, but I have a friend coming out this weekend. No Saturday sleepover. But I’ll come to you Sunday morning after I drop her at the jitney.

I tongue my cheek. “Saturday?” I ask Dave, who nods. “Fine.”

All good. I’ll have a guy’s night Saturday.

Make sure your friend is gone Sunday. You and me have a date on the boat. We’re going skinny dipping.

Don’t threaten me with a good time, Crosby.

I snort and continue to type.

“Cros—”

“Fine.” Pocketing my phone, I surrender. “I’ll go. Platonic dinner, no nightcap after. I want the boat Sunday.”

Dave presses, “Butwho—”

“I’m about to rescind my offer,” I snap.

Grinning, Dave grabs his hat from my desk, plopping it back on his head. “You won’t regret it.”

“What are you doing?”

I relax my mouth. “Why did you put red lipstick on me? I feel like it’s all over my teeth.”

Alyssa shakes her head, reaching for her glass of wine. “It’s not. That sets after thirty seconds. You’ll have to scrub it off with a loofah when we get home. Oh, thank you!” she sings when the waiter brings a plate of oysters. “Too bad these will be wasted on you.”

I laugh, reaching for a shell and drizzling Tabasco on it. “This is an awfully fancy dinner you’re taking me to.”

“It’s the least I can do. I’m at your house so much, especially when you’re away.”

Lifting the shell, I let the meaty oyster slide down my throat before dabbing my mouth with a napkin. “Well, you might have a summer place next year too.” Alyssa stares at me with wide, surprised eyes. “I’m thinking of keeping the house.”

“Really?”

I nod. “I thought... I thought it would be too much with everything that happened. I walked in the first day after taking it off the market and stood in the foyer expecting to have a panic attack and run out.” Shrugging, I reach for another oyster. “I did, a little. But it got easier after that.”

In the days that followed, I found peace and comfort, safety in what I thought might be the house of nightmares. It was the same feeling I used to have as a little girl when Dad would drop me off there for the summer, like I was coming home. And given that Mason ended up spending more time there than I ever did, I feel the need to take care of it.

“Maybe you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Alyssa suggests, and I let out a small laugh. “I’m serious, Max. Do you ever give yourself a pat on the back?”

It’s something Crosby might say, and I find myself fingering the dainty necklace lying beneath my collarbone. I nearly tell Alyssa involuntarily, like my heart and gut are just ready to jump on the moment when I can get this all off my chest, when I don’t have to hide that I’m falling head over heels for not only the one guy I shouldn’t have, but the one who could topple down everything I’m working so hard to build.

I swallow my second oyster, giving my head a shake when I realize I’ve dumped too much Tabasco on this one. Turning, I try to flag down a waiter to bring another bottle of water to the table when I notice a group of people winding through the crowded tables of the back patio we sit on.

I choke, not from the spice, but the surprise, the shock when I watch Crosby pull out a chair for a tall blonde with perfectly curled hair before he sits next to her, across from Dave and another blonde.

“You okay?” Alyssa asks.

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