Page 73 of Crushing Clover

On the horizon, large ships loomed like far away fortress walls.

I settled in to watch as the sky turned various colors of pastel, making me wish I’d chosen painting as my new hobby, rather than crochet. Unfortunately, I’d never had the time, money, or inherent skill to pursue art past what we’d done in school.

Other surfers were already in the water, and the waves looked too big for my comfort. I couldn’t imagine choosing to getinto those dark waters, even though it was beautiful. Here and there, a few people strolled along the shore, looking picturesque against the morning sea and sky.

Lucky was a natural on his board, as though it was a part of him that he had to surgically remove when he came to land. Rush and Saint weren’t too shabby themselves, although I knew absolutely nothing about surfing.

When they got tired, I thought they would come out and sit with me, but they only sat on their boards, bobbing in the sun like otters on logs.

Although it was windy, eventually the sun warmed the air enough for me to strip off my hoodie and sweatpants to get some sun—but only whatever could get through the SPF 50 I’d slathered on. With my skin tone, I tended to burn rather than tan.

If anyone had told me I’d be hanging out on a beach after being sold at an auction, I never would have believed them. This was hardly the hell Annika had warned me about. Sure, the three of them liked to get rough, but it was hot when I wasn’t suffering too much.

“Hey,” someone said, rousing me from the nap I hadn’t known I’d started.

I opened my eyes to find a guy with a friendly face hovering at a respectful distance. He was in his early twenties, with brown hair shot through with gold.

My smile was awkward as I sat up. I felt all too naked and exposed. Saint had warned me not to talk to people, so I didn’t say anything. If he saw me talking to a stranger, he would lose his shit.

“Cool place, huh?”

I nodded, but couldn’t help but glance at the water, worried about breaking the rules. Would talking to a guy be a shootable offense?

“I’m Lance.”

I smiled politely.

“Why aren’t you in the water?”

That was a question I couldn’t answer with a nod or smile. Dammit.

“Sharks,” I said simply.

“Sharks?” He laughed, flashing straight white teeth. Sure, he had a pretty smile, but he was nothing compared to my guys.

My guys?

“You don’t like sharks?” he persisted, not taking the hint.

This was ridiculous. I couldn’t just ignore him. Every time I’d ignored a man trying to hit on me, they’d gotten hostile. Maybe Saint would punish me again, but I’d rather get punished than murdered.

“I like sharks just fine. I just don’t want to visit their house, you know?”

“If you leave them alone, they pretty much leave you alone.”

I pressed my lips together and shrugged.

“I haven’t seen you here before.”

I shook my head

Oh please, why wouldn’t this guy buy a clue and fuck off? I didn’t want to be rude and tell him to go away, but I also didn’t want trouble.

His brows rose. “You’re too pretty to be shy, so what is it? You’re not into guys?”

I gave him a helpless shrug. When I shifted, the bell on my collar jingled. His eyes fastened on it, and he reached a hand toward me. I jerked back, eyes wide, but he only flicked the bell.

“Cute.”

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