Page 96 of Problematic Summer Romance

“That, or because it’s supposed to storm.”

“Shit.” I eye the gate. It’s shorter than me, and climbing it would be a piece of cake, if it weren’t for those sharp pikes at the top. “Do you think we can—”

Conor’s hands are already around my waist, lifting me over the iron bars. I briefly see myself impaled on one or more of the pikes, rivulets of blood mixing to little chunks of bowels as they trickle out of me. I prepare to scream, cry, perhaps throw up on Conor. Before I get a chance, though, he deposits me on the other side, and joins me with a simple, sleek jump.

I take a few deep breaths and watch him wipe his hands clean against his shorts, trying not to stare. This—being here, alone, with him. The illicitness of trespassing private property. The fact that we’re both close to naked. All of it together, it’s…a lot. “Color me impressed by your athleticism, old man.”

His look is withering. “When my geriatric joints require surgery, I’ll make sure to bill your insurance.”

“I’m still on Eli’s, who is on Harkness’s.” I realize something. “Which means that you pay for my birth control. Isn’t that fascinating?”

He grunts, noncommittal. Murmurs something about the superiority of universal healthcare.

I adjust the twisted strap of my bralette and add, “You’re welcome to start taking advantage of your money’s worth any day.”

It takes a lot longer than it should, but I can spot the exact moment my meaning sinks in. He is too…bare, to hide the way his every muscle winds tight.

“Maya.”

“Yeah?”

He shakes his head roughly. “You cannot say that to me.”

“Really?” I tilt my head. Dimple up at him. “Is there a law, or something?” I don’t wait for an answer before turning around. “Tiny! Tiny? Come here, baby!”

It’s starting to drizzle. We follow beaten tracks, climb over a couple of increasingly slick rocks, and it soon becomes apparent that Tiny is having way too much fun being chased by us. I call him, but he never listens to me. Eli may be his boss, but I’m his peer, and any demand I might make of him is little more than a polite suggestion. “Tiny, will you please come?”

He doesn’t. We venture toward the center of the island, swatting away bugs, and the rain grows heavier. Conor walks ahead of me, constantly looking back to make sure I haven’t slipped and cracked my skull on a jagged piece of rock. I roll my eyes every time, but when I trip over an exposed root, he catches me with a hand over my rib cage, and his eyebrow arches.

When we emerge from a grove of palms, I realize that we must have crossed the entire island, and are much closer to the water than I thought. Thick raindrops soak my hair and Tiny’s fur. He’s never been a huge fan of water, but he idles near an indentation in the rock wall, barking in its direction.

“It’s an entrance,” Conor says. “To a cave. An artificial cave. See how steps were carved in the stone?”

Tiny, who usually rolls down the stairs because he’s too lazy to walk, darts downward with the agility of a mountain goat, and we hurry after him. Despite the gloom of the day, the visibility inside the cave is surprisingly good, with light filtering in from an opening down below. “Is this some kind of…”

“Grotto,” Conor says once we reach the bottom. He points at the other end of the cave, where the stone arches. “Ships sail in that way, then dock over here.”

“And tourists climb up the steps to visit the island.” I nod. “You can see the coast from here. That’s Villa Fedra.”

Tiny barks again, this time at an alcove in the wall. Conor and I exchange a glance, and he says, for what better be the last damn time, “Stay behind me.”

He pets Tiny with a mumbled “Bad boy” that holds zero discipline and lots of affection. Then frowns as he leans forward for a better look. “Maya?”

“Yeah?”

He shakes his head. “Have to take it back.”

“Hmm?”

“What I said about Tiny. He’s actually a goddamn genius.”

Tiny puffs up with pride. “Why?”

“Because he wasn’t running. He led us here on purpose.”

Chapter 30

The other dog is a mutt, too, but much smaller, and so terrified of us, its little sable-coated body never stops trembling. It takes me and Conor very little time to pry it out of the gap in the wall, but the entire time Tiny stares at us, an impatient supervisor clearly distrustful of his staff.

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