Page 28 of The Summer I First Saw You
“Right,” I grouse, “like you’d have kept the bet if you’d lost.”
She smiles. “ObviouslyI wasn’t going to keep my end of thebargain, but we both expect more from you. You’re one of the few guys I know who lives up to his promises.”
My mouth is dry; my head is pounding. I want to ignore her. And yet…I like the idea of being among the few men who haven’t disappointed her.
“I need coffee first,” I say with a sigh. “And you’re a pain in the ass.”
“It’s my best quality,” she chirps.
“It’s far from your best quality.”
“I have a number of amazing qualities,” she replies. “Which one is your favorite?”
My gaze drops to the jogging bra that barely contains her breasts before I can stop it, and I wince for the third time this morning. “I’m still struggling to come up with one I even find bearable.”
I begrudgingly head to my room and put on boxer briefs and shorts for our run. She, naturally, does not changeherclothes. We cross the street to the path and start running south toward Steamer Lane and the wharf. I’ve always considered myself to be a reasonably fit guy, but between the soreness from surfing yesterday and the hangover, this run is pretty fucking miserable.
My chest hurts. My knees hurt. I want to stop, and we’ve barely run a mile. “This sucks.”
“Your hips are too tight,” she says. “You need yoga.”
I roll my eyes. “My hips are fine, Daisy. And I’m not doing yoga, because the last time anyone checked, I still had a dick. And, actually, the person checking was you, and you implied it was excessive.”
“It wasadequate,” she counters. “And lots of men do yoga. I mean, maybe back in your day they didn’t, but they do now.”
“Back inmyday? How old, exactly, do you think I am?”
She grins. “Based on your chronological age or your outdated thoughts on gender norms?”
I drop behind her, worried I might get sick, but this means I’m looking at her ass. I console myself with the reminder that she doesn’t know it’s happening, but quickly realize that’s perhaps even worse. I wish there was one goddamn line of thought I could have regarding Daisy that didn’t wind up withmebeing the guilty party.
I run alongside her to end the mental debate.
“Finally caught up, did you?” she asks with a grin. I want to die, whereas she is positively glowing. “I assumed you were just back there, enjoying the view.”
“I don’t need to run behind you for that. You’re offering that view freely every goddamn time I walk downstairs.”
She stops when we reach the wharf, pointing to a restaurant off to the left. “That’s where I’ll be working, though I can’t guarantee the job will last since I’ve got no experience.”
There’s already a waitress outside setting up tables and wearing a very tight T-shirt that says, “I got lei’d at The Wharf.”
I have a good idea why Daisy got hired. “I’m not sure I like—”
She isn’t listening. She’s already walking farther down the wharf when we should be turning back for the house.
“Daisy, where the hell are you going?”
She smiles over her shoulder as she continues to walk, her hips swaying. “It’s time for your reward,” she purrs.
My jaw grinds. “I thought we discussed you not making every word out of your mouth sound dirty.”
“I was talking aboutice cream, perv,” she replies. “And it only sounded dirty to you.”
I beg to differ, Daisy.There’s not a grown man in the world who wouldn’t hear sex dripping out of half the things she says, especially when she’s purring, “It’s time for your reward” over her shoulder.
“Why the hell would you get ice cream now?” I argue. “It’s not even lunch.”
She’s practically skipping there. “Because I want one.”
