I had forgotten how hot it gets around here. The lake house is cool—air-conditioned—but as soon as my bare foot hits the deck, the heat slams into me like a brick wall. I clutch my towel tighter as I pad across the deck, down the steps, and onto the blissfully cool grass. Shielding my eyes from the blaring sun, I scan for Bryce.
There—he’s on the dock, feet dangling, phone pressed to his ear.
~Of course. Always working.~
I sigh, dropping my towel on a pool chair as I make my way down there. I sit beside him, but all I get is a slight lift of his chin in acknowledgment. He’s deep in finance talk, and within seconds, I’m bored. And ~hot~—the sun beating down like it has a personal vendetta against my dark hair.
I nudge Bryce’s arm. He just lifts a finger, giving me a warning look. Rolling my eyes, I strip off my cover-up and dive into the lake.
The cold water bites into my skin, but after a few long strokes, it’s refreshing. I come up for air, slicking my hair back, and glance at Bryce. He’s still on the phone, not even looking at me.
~Maybe I should “accidentally” drop his phone in the lake.~
Instead, I swim back and tickle his foot. He flinches, finally lowering his phone.
“Come swim with me,” I say, looking up at him through my lashes.
He shakes his head. “Later, maybe.”
“Come on,” I whine. “We’re on vacation. Have some fun.”
Bryce picks up his phone again. “Sumner, no. I have calls to make before the conference, and Jerry just—”
I tune him out, sinking below the surface. The world muffles, and I relish the quiet. I should’ve known—Bryce barely takes three days off each year, and separating him from his phone is like prying a raccoon off a stolen hotdog.
~Whatever. At least we got a change of scenery.~
I swim toward the floating wooden platform in the distance. The guys and I used to have backflip contests off it as kids—back when we were all still friends. I shake off the memory and grip the slick edge to catch my breath.
“Sumner Marlowe, as I live and breathe.”
The low, rough voice sends a shiver up my spine. I don’t even have to look.
~Corbin Montgomery. ~The bane of my existence.
I turn slowly, deadpan. “Oh, you’re still doing that? Have you considered stopping?”
Corbin’s laugh is deep, crinkling the corners of his maddeningly perfect eyes. A sharp pain lances through my chest. ~Damn it, he’s still so handsome.~ More so, actually. Gone is the boyishness; he’s grown into his frame.
~God fucking damn it.~
“Charming as ever,” he says, flashing a grin.
I roll my eyes and release the platform.
“Still dating Gibson, then?” Corbin asks before I can swim away.
“Nothing gets past you,” I retort, kicking away.
“I don’t know how you do it,” he muses, effortlessly keeping up. “The guy is a stick in the mud.”
“I’ll take a stick in the mud over an asshole any day,” I snap, resisting the urge to shove his smug face underwater.
Corbin bites his lip. “Too bad Bryce is both.”
I swim away, mumbling a string of curses.
“Let me guess, he didn’t want to go swimming?” Corbin taunts, cutting through the water with powerful strokes.
I ignore him, trying not to look at the way the water glistens on his biceps.
“Does he ever do anything fun with you?”
“Jesus Christ, Corbin,” I spit. “Is making my life miserable still the funnest thing you can think of? You’re on vacation. Go do something else.”
“~You’re~ on vacation too,” he points out. “With your boyfriend. Yet here you are, and there he is—on his phone.”
“Corbin, you coming?” Tyler calls from the shore.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Corbin answers. Then, turning back to me with a smirk, he says, “Cute bikini. Looks good on you. See you around, Marlowe.”
And just like that, he’s gone.
Seething, I make my way back to the dock, where Bryce finally looks up. “What did he say to you?”
“Nothing. Just being an asshole as usual,” I clip as I climb up the ladder.
Bryce’s gaze drags over me. “You shouldn’t wear that bikini out here,” he says. “Not with those guys around.”
I arch a brow. “I’m in a ~lake~, Bryce. What do you want me to wear, a sweatsuit?”
He hands me my cover-up. “Just put this on, Sumner. And stop messing around. I thought we were staying away from them.”
Begrudgingly, I tug the cover-up over my wet body. “It’s not like I was ~planning~ to hang out with Montgomery,” I mumble. “And besides, ~you~ didn’t want to swim with me.”
Bryce grabs my hand, tugging me toward the house. “Whatever. Go take a shower.”
***
We eat sushi in bed, the guys’ laughter carrying from the kitchen. It takes all I have to block it out. Nostalgia tugs at me—I used to ~love~ them, all three of them. We grew up together. I can’t remember the last time I felt like that, so utterly free and joyful.
I barely laugh with Bryce. He’s gone so often, and even when he’s there, it doesn’t really feel like he is. His head is always somewhere else—married to his job.
I clear my throat. “Maybe we can roast marshmallows later. It was tradition—”
“Or…” Bryce drags out the word, plucking the chopsticks from my hand and setting them aside. “We could put this alone time to good use.”
He smirks, his white teeth gleaming in the dim light.
“Oh?” I purr. “What did you have in mind?”
Bryce pushes me onto my back, sliding his hands up my thighs. “Maybe I should get you out of these clothes…”
My pulse skips. I lift my arms as he peels off my dress, my bra soon following. He unbuttons his shirt next. Bryce is a good-looking man, polished in every sense. His hair is immaculately styled, his jaw clean-shaven. He’s tall and lean, slightly lanky, as if he grew a bit too much too fast.
He shimmies my panties down, puts on a condom, and reaches for the lube. A second later, he’s inside me, groaning as he moves with almost mechanical efficiency.
I grit my teeth, trying to tune out the invasive feeling. My hands find his shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Go slow,” I whisper, but he’s already lost in his own rhythm.
I lock my legs around his hips, trying to physically slow him down, but it’s no use. With a shuddered grunt, he finishes, collapsing against me.
“That was good, babe,” he says absently, already reaching for his boxers.
I hum noncommittally, disappointment swelling inside me.
“Hey, if you don’t mind, I need to call Jerry real quick.”
I don’t even question why Jerry’s still at the office—if he’s anything like Bryce, there’s no clocking out.
“Sure,” I mumble to his back as he walks out of the room, bare-chested.
I reach for the shirt he left behind and pull it on. It barely covers my ass, but at least wearing my boyfriend’s shirt partially makes up for the emptiness inside my chest—~not to mention the emptiness between my thighs.~
I crack the door open and peer into the living room. It’s dark and empty, illuminated only by the soft orange glow pouring through the glass wall. Outside, three figures sit around the fire pit.
~Probably roasting marshmallows. Damn them.~
Slipping into the living room, I pad toward the kitchen, my bare feet quiet against the cold stone floor. I pull open the fridge and reach for a bottle of water—
A familiar voice cuts through the room, sharp enough to make me jump.