Page 141 of Really Truly Yours

I don’t plan it—but I do snort.

He squeezes. “It’s true, Sydnee Lou. And I know you’ll love them, too.”

Love? Is he for real? Quite a four-letter word there, and one that does not belong anywhere near this conversation.

For the time being, I can hardly speak real words, however, so I hold onto my thoughts. If the Smiths are anything like the Walkers, then yes, things should go smoothly enough.

On the other hand, Gray is their son. They will be a tougher audience.

As the waves crash, I squint hard. Before we came out here, Gray changed into sea-blue shorts and a loose-fitting shirt made of cool, white linen. A five o’clock shadow enhances his distinct jawline.

I wriggle my fingers until the itch to touch it subsides. I drop my half-raised hand.

A grin tweaks Gray’s mouth. Sneaky mind reader. He reels me in, his strong, capable, protective arms completing a circle, collapsing my doubts and fears.

He kisses me.

At sunset, waves pounding. Toes touching in the sudsing around our feet.

Someone pinch me.

No…some dreams are perfection.

As my lips tingle toward numbness from the growing fierceness of the kiss, he deepens the magic. A new world parts. My palms creep against his chest, his neck. Along his collar, damp hair weaves through my fingers, curling in gentle tangles. With a groan, he somehow makes us closer.

His lips abandon my mouth, igniting a trail along my jaw, nibbling near the birthstone gem in my lobe, nestling in the valley behind it. If I melt into a puddle, let the waves carry me away. Us away.

His mouth reclaims my needy lips.

A distant call seeps into my consciousness. Gray’s hands cup my elbows, the move ending the spinetingling kiss. Words rumble against my cheek. “They’re waiting on us.”

Hands locked and shoulders brushing, we trudge the sand, onto the narrow boardwalk splitting the sea grass. Prepared for nightfall, the Walker home is lit up like the holiday season. Twinkly white lights sparkle above the sprawling patio.

A giant splash from the swimming pool ricochets, and laughter rings. My stomach cinches tighter than my hand on the last twenty that needs to carry me through the final week of the month.

Gray pushes open the gate and steps to the side. At the top of the half-dozen steps, yet hidden by potted, tropical fauna, I wait. He recaptures my hand and pulls me into the group.

A new couple has joined the fray since the afternoon. The woman is young and the unfair kind of beautiful. Blonde hair flows artfully around her svelte shoulders, on display thanks to an adorable white halter dress. The guy, a rock of a man, wears shorts and a polo shirt completely drenched with pool water. It pours off every part of him as he smacks a kiss on the woman’s laughing mouth.

He owns his own brand of hunky, I suppose. There’s not a thing wrong with his face or his striking green eyes, but beneath short sleeves, his arms are carpeted with enough edgy tattoos to toss a shiver up my spine.

This must be Tripp’s brother-in-law and former partner. Avery told me about him on the plane, so I’m not surprised by the tats, but the men in my sphere who have arms and ink like that are the real deal.

If I am correct, that makes his name Marco and his wife’s Annalise. The newlyweds.

This beehive of pretty people that I’ve fallen into is lively, and they drip money.

Barb Walker, a gracious and spunky hostess, makes quick introductions, then, after shooting Gray a playful frown, swats her son-in-law’s arm and tells him to get changed because now he’s the one delaying dinner.

Gray, with his hand a show of support against my back, smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Guess we walked farther than I realized.”

Tripp smirks, and Marco bobbles his eyebrows and says, “Wasn’t much walking going on when I checked.”

I employ every ounce of courage I come equipped with to not bury my hot face in Gray’s sleeve.

Marco slaps Gray’s back on his way past and fake punches him. “Good to see you again, man. How’s the zillion-dollar arm?”

“You mean the one you just slugged?” Of course, good-natured Gray takes the ribbing in stride, laughing. “It’s coming along.”

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