Page 93 of Changing Lanes

“Perfect.”

Pop.

I open my eyes again to see Cruz beaming and I almost call it off. He’s an innocent bystander in this attachment drive-by I’m preparing to commit and he doesn’t deserve the stray bullet that’s about to clip him.

“I just have to run it by my boss,” he jokes, oblivious.

The ensuing silence is deafening.

Life jackets on board, Beckett makes a show of putting mine on first. Restless fingers, jerky movements, and a gruff expression lining his face don’t match the gentle giant I’ve come to know the last few days. Once the vest is attached, his hands drop to my bare thighs and run the length of my legs with an intimacy anyone with half a working eye could see before twisting back around and securing his own.

To keep from checking the reactions at the water’s edge, I pull some seaweed off my ankle, tossing it back into the water. There’s no way Cruz didn’t see Beckett’s lame attempt at dominance. The entire park saw it.

“Yo, Bailer’s coming into town later. Make sure you’re ready!” Coty yells over the engine starting up.

Great. More men. Just what I need.

Beckett turns his scowl to Coty.

He repeats, “Bailer…remember him?”

My roommate only jerks his chin in response.

Why do I feel like they’re talking in code?

He lays on the gas next causing me to grip his waist tightly, nervous laughter bubbling up.

Countless jumps in, a nasty wave encroaches as Beckett rips the jet ski hard to the side, sending us both sailing off and into the cold water.

Out of breath, I break the surface to find him already floating with barely contained laughter wracking his body.

“What?” I snap.

The water is fucking freezing and my swimsuit may or may not have survived impact. I’ll have to check once we’re on the jet ski and I regain feeling in my limbs because as it stands now, I’m struggling just to tread water.

“Bail-er. Bail her. Get it?”

Through chattering teeth, I attempt to scoff. Beckett pulls me to him as we paddle our way back to the watercraft together—him using one arm, me using exactly none. They might be flopping about but they’re definitely not contributing in propelling us forward. Even if they are, I’ve lost my ability to tell at this point. Seriously, this water never warms up. Must be a side effect from all the rumored chemical waste a nearby nuclear plant allegedly dumps into it. Fuck with Mother Nature and see what she does. Hell hath no fury like a woman being mistreated.

“What was all that about back there?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sir Gropes-A-Lot, I think you do.”

Beckett sneers. “Fuckface is lucky I didn’t kick his teeth in.”

I feel his hand graze my ass and I’m thankful to see my swimsuit did stay on through the fall.

“Take it easy, Chuck Norris. I’m going on a date with a respectable guy, not bringing him home from a bar after too many shots. There’s nothing to worry about.”

His only reply is a stiff head shake as he slows his one-armed stride.

Tomorrow I’m returning to work which means things will go back to how they were before my stupid injury. The sleepovers, the constant babying, him going down on me, it’s all over. Although, truth be told that last one will be the hardest to say goodbye to. I’m not one to kick a gift horse in the mouth and Beckett’s mouth is a gift—when it’s used for something other than pissing me off.

Regardless, he had to know this little respite from real life would be short lived, right?

“I mean, Cruz works for you.” If he’s good enough for Beckett to employ, he’s good enough for a platonic lunch date.