Page 85 of Digging Up Love
His watch lit up with a glow, displaying just under an eight-minute pace. Not bad for mile twelve. A few miles farther he slowed to a walk, recovering as the first rays of sun crept over the horizon. Once he’d cooled down, he stood by the edge of the water and reached into his pocket.
In the palm of his hand, sunbeams glinted off the engagement ring he’d gotten for Mercedes. He’d already told Hector to get rid of the wedding band back in March. Now, without the smallest trace of remorse, he cocked his arm back and hurled the diamond ring out into the lake.
Mercedes would always be a part of his past, but he no longer wanted her in his present.
Alisha now, and maybe, just maybe, Alisha always.
“Wait, she still hasn’t told you?” Alisha’s sister tipped her giant sunglasses down, revealing light-brown eyes and a smattering of freckles on her high, round cheekbones. In the past half hour since Quentin had arrived at the beach, heart in his throat at the prospect of meeting another member of Alisha’s family, he still hadn’t quite found his bearings among the sisterly dynamics.
“Simone, cut it out.” Alisha sat on a towel across from him on the crowded beach, her cheeks flushed, but maybe just from the heat. The sand was blistering—it had to be at least ninety-five out here in the blinding sun.
Adjusting his aviators, Quentin asked, “Told me what?”
Simone hooted and slapped her knee. She was tall like her sister, but that’s where the similarity ended. Unlike Alisha’s soft curves, Simone was all angles and sharp edges, from her thin limbs to the pointed once-over she’d given him when he’d first arrived. Pushing her sunglasses back up with one finger, she shifted forward, spreading out her elbows and rubbing her hands together. “Oooh, this is good.”
Daggers shot from Alisha’s eyes. “Simone Eleanor Blake, I swear if you tell him, I will beat you back to your apartment and kidnap Mr.Flouncy.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” said Simone. “You know his one good button eye is hanging on by a thread. He’d never make it.”
“Try me.” Alisha crossed her arms, and the effect it had on her bikini top caught Quentin’s attention.
“Okay—but, Al, I feel like theft isn’t something you should hide in a relationship.” Simone’s smile returned.
At the word “relationship,” his heart kicked up a notch, but he was also a little concerned by another word. “Theft?”
Under Alisha’s glare, her sister desisted and rooted around in her beach bag. She produced a can of sunscreen and unleashed a steady spray at her stomach until the coconut-scented mist had filled the air.
Coughing, Alisha waved a hand in front of her face. “Okay, okay.Sim-mer down.”
“Girl, quit.” She aimed the sunscreen like a canister of pepper spray, and Alisha lifted her arms in defense. Simone chuckled and slid it back into her bag. “I can’t believe you’d play like that in front of your man.”
“He likes it.” She tipped up her chin and grinned at him. “You like my cheesiness, right?”
Quentin nodded. He did.
Simone poked a finger into her open mouth, miming puking. “That makes one of us. But you’re not going to distract me that easy, sis. Tell the man what you’ve got in your closet.”
Whatdidshe have in her closet? A wardrobe full of shoplifted items? Stolen antiquities? Quentin was—justifiably, right?—freaking out a little. “What’s in your closet, Alisha?” He poked her sweat-slick knee with his finger.
She threw her arms up in defeat. “Jeez, fine.” With a final scowl at her sister, she muttered, “Your hat, is all.”
“My what, now?”
“Your beanie. From the day we first met.” She shrugged one glistening shoulder. “You left it at the house after you came out to investigate the bone.”
“And she kept it.” Simone grinned. “Like a creep.”
“I just forgot to give it back,” Alisha protested, but her lowered gaze suggested otherwise.
A smile crept onto Quentin’s cheeks. He leaned toward Simone. With his eyes on Alisha, he lifted a hand and spoke behind it in a stage whisper. “I gotta ask. Is this a pattern with your sister? Holding on tostuff from guys she doesn’t even know? Does she have a shrine full of pilfered stuff from other men I should be worried about?”
Simone grinned. “Great question. As far as I know, you’re the first. Though whether that’s flattering or—”
Alisha grabbed the brim of Simone’s hat and yanked it off. “You’re a punk, you know that?”
Simone raised her voice, pretending like her sister wasn’t even there. “You know, if I had to guess, I’d say she still wears your hat sometimes. Like at least once a week.”
Quentin started laughing.
