Page 73 of The Worst Kind of Promise
“Kit!” I half-shriek.
After a final spin, he gently sets me back down, smiling apologetically. “Sorry. I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you.”
He tucks a flyaway strand of hair behind my ear, our bodies close enough that we could survive off each other’s heat if we were stranded in the arctic, and his eyes look drowsy with lust.
He’s leaning in. He’s going to kiss me again. And I have a feeling we aren’t going to stop until both of our swimsuits are on the ground. I need to tell him that I love him now, before he goes any longer without knowing.
No preparation. No grand gesture. I’m just going to say it.
With a fevered breath, I stop holding back. I stop overthinking. “Kit, I l—”
But of course, because the world is conspiring against me, the loud whir of a boat propeller escalates in the distance. Both of our heads snap toward the sound, and the sight of a cruiser headed our way has sweat breaking out over every inch of me. It’s not until it’s a few feet away that Kit’s eyes grow twice their size.
“It’s Gage and Fulton.”
“What?”
He drags me to the edge of the boat. “If they find out we’re out here by ourselves, they’re going to start asking questions.”
I’m cemented in place by fear, like a bug stuck in thick amber. I know that if we keep seeing each other, Hayes is eventually going to find out. But I wasn’t prepared for today to be that day.
“What do we do?” I’m freaking out, waiting for my untimely demise. My heart and pulse are competing to see who’s the fastest, and my stomach bubbles with nausea.
Now, there are a lot of choices Kit could’ve made in this situation. He could’ve had me hunker down in the cockpit. He could’ve started the boat up and driven away. He could’ve lied to them about us being alone, saying that some other people were coming to join us. But he doesn’t do any of those.
He glances down momentarily at the water, but not quick enough for me not to notice it.
“Kit…” I warn.
Their boat is getting closer. If they haven’t spotted my silhouette already, they will within a few seconds.
He wouldn’t.
“I’m so sorry” is all he says before he shoves me off the boat and into the freezing cold lake below.
27
WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE (BOAT)
KIT
Ireally hope Faye can swim.
Nerves shackle me as Gage and Fulton pull up in their cruiser, the two of them the embodiment of tranquility.
Fulton has an obnoxiously loud Hawaiian shirt hanging off him—with matching shorts that make me shudder—and a dab of sunscreen smeared across his nose.
Gage slides his sunglasses up, resting them in his messy crop of hair. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Big Cat himself.”
I’m trying to lean on something in that cool guy pose, but there’s nothing in the nearby vicinity that could support me. “’Sup, guys. Nice weather we’re having, eh?”
Oh, God. I’ve never turned Canadian when trying to make small talk before. They’re going to know something is up. Or Gage will. Fulton’s kind of…empty up there.
Fulton stretches. “Oh, yeah. It’s really nice out. Not too hot, not too cold.”
Gage eyes me suspiciously, his gaze jumping from the cheek-biting smile on my face to the seemingly empty deck behind me.
“Whatcha doin’ out here all by yourself?” he asks.
