Page 5 of The Promises We Were Never Meant To Keep

“So, sweet girl.” Tate stretches out beside me, but not too close. He shakes his longish golden-brown hair and droplets of water fly. Goosebumps pebble where beads of cool water land on my sun-kissed skin. “What brought you here to our little town?”

“My mom and dad.” I’m being cheeky, and I know it.

His grin stretches wide, and he drags his green eyes over my face, dipping down over my body before drifting back up again. Sometimes, the way Tate looks at me…

“And what brought them?”

I ignore the hot that burns under my skin as I cast my eyes to the water. “Cheaper living. The opportunity for Dad to open the business he’s always wanted to open.”

“Yeah?” I can feel his eyes on me. The foggy, sea-glass green is cool over my warm skin. The touch of his gaze pulls tiny goosebumps to the surface, and I fight the shiver that threatens as he asks, “What’s he want to open?”

“An outfitter shop. Hiking, hunting, and fishing gear. Bikes and lake boats. Tents. You know, the works.”

“Your dad likes nature.”

“He does.” I bob my head. “He wants to offer tours, too. But I think he’ll be happy to just start with the shop.”

“Your mom?”

“Mom loves Dad. She’ll follow him anywhere.”

He laughs. It’s nice. It’s the first time I’ve heard it.

I’ve seen Tate plenty since that first day when I made a fool of myself. The day I met Holt. I’ve even talked to Tate a few times, but he’s usually with his friends, and I’m always with Holt.

I can’t lie and say I’m not head-over-heels for Holt, because I am. Even though right now, we’re just friends. I think about him for hours every night before I fall asleep. His dark eyes, his hard jaw, and the pipes Mom has clearly noticed, follow me into my dreams.

I’m what Mom would call smitten, and I’m not sorry about it at all.

“So, she doesn’t work?”

“She does, usually part time gigs. We’re from Victoria, and everyone knows it’s not cheap to live there. Mom usually works in greenhouses or breakfast joints.”

“Yeah?”

I bob my head. “She likes busy work.”

“That’s cool. So does my mom.”

I chance a peek at him. “What does she do?”

He cocks a brow. “Holt hasn’t told you?”

Holt jogs over sand, dripping water. His eyes shift from Tate to me, and I swear, my mouth goes bone dry as pebbles of lake-water cling to his skin like prisms to snare the sun. He’s beautiful.

His eyes dance on mine and a roguish smile pulls at his lips. “What hasn’t Holt told you?”

My heart skips, a wild thing in my chest. I smile as I tip my head back to gaze up at him. “What your parent’s do for a living.”

He shakes his head on a laugh. “Seriously? You’re sitting up here talking about what our parent’s do for work?” He makes a noise at Tate. “Dude.”

I push. “What do they do for work?”

“Dad owns Wilder Builds and Renos.”

“O—kay.”

Holt moves behind me to settle his wet self on the towel I’m sitting on. My heart skips at least a whole sequence of beats. I think I forget to breathe as he spreads his long legs around me, capturing me in the cage of his body.