When we arrive at the airport in San Jose, we are exhausted. Duncan and I play a game of rock, paper, scissors to determine who will drive our rental car the forty something miles to Santa Cruz where we’ll be living for the next four weeks.

I win.

Poor sucker is stuck driving in city traffic and through these mountains. I’m not sure what these drivers are thinking but apparently, to them, the mountainous roads are no big deal and by the number passing us, they’re channeling one of the Andrettis and think this is some sort of race. Phoebe and I are in the backseat, her head on my shoulder as she naps. I hate that she’s missing the scenery, but I’m glad she’s getting some rest because my to-do list is long and most of it includes her. Naked.

I stare out the window, looking at the scenery . . . okay fine, I’m thinking of Phoebe in a bikini. When we were in Florida for spring break, she was like a walking wet dream. Her curves filled a barely there bikini, perfect tits nestled in a top that left little to the imagination, and bottoms that only made me want to sink my teeth in every inch of her ass. Fine, I sound like a complete douchebag. I admit it. Phoebe does that to me. Whether she’s being sarcastic and sassy or nestling into my side like she is now, I love every damn thing she throws my way.

I’m jarred from my thoughts when Duncan changes lanes and lays on the horn as he passes a truck pulling a horse trailer. Kelsey screeches, and I grab the “oh shit” handle while tightening my grip on Phoebe, who barely stirs next to me.

“What the fuck, man?” My heart is racing, and I’m relieved Phoebe can sleep through an air raid siren. I’d lose at least ten man-card points if she saw the look of fear on my face.

“That guy was taking up both lanes. I’m not sure who taught him how to drive, but they need to reconsider their career.”

Once Duncan sufficiently bitches about the horse trailer guy, and we make it out of the mountains, the GPS routes us through the city streets to our destination. The homes are bungalow style and close together until we reach the road that runs parallel to the beach. These are sprawling homes. Obviously worth millions if the view is any indication. Holy shit.

“Dude, what does this house look like?” I can’t hold back the amazement in my voice; these houses are out of control.

“Oh, it’s nothing like these. It’s a little bungalow. My parents didn’t tear it down and rebuild like many did. They fixed it up and modernized it, but for the most part, it’s still a little two-bedroom cottage. But the view is sick, and we’re walking distance to a few restaurants and bars.”

I take in the view as the GPS routes us down a street and we’re parked in front of a small home, like Duncan described. I’m surprised the Strombergs never tore this down and built something huge. This house would easily fit in the main part of their house back home.

“Looks like we have some fun neighbors.” I follow Duncan’s gaze as he nods toward the house next door. A couple girls in bikini tops and shorts stumble out the front door, red cups in their hands.

“And, it sounds like they have decent taste in music,” Kelsey comments as Phoebe stirs next to me. I kiss the top of her head, and she smiles at me before kissing me on the lips.

“Good nap?”

“Just right. Are we here?” I fucking love her just-woke-up voice. I swear it’s my own personal aphrodisiac.

“Yep, looks like we have some cool neighbors, too.”

“It’ll be fun to meet some locals. Sorry I drooled all over you. I guess I was tired. And, I’m starving.”

I laugh. When isn’t Phoebe starving? I plant a kiss on her head and open my door as she unfastens her seatbelt. Eventually we manage to get our luggage in the house, choosing rooms without argument. It helps that the rooms are essentially identical and don’t leave much to argue about. The single bathroom has the girls in an uproar, but I remind them we’re living a leisure life on the beach and will probably spend most of our time in swimsuits. They seemed to relax. I hear rumblings of schedules, but I leave that for them.

Duncan and Phoebe confirm not much has changed in the house since they were kids. The furniture is updated but, by the looks of it, not by much. The theme “beach shack” is in full force throughout the living room and kitchen. Small anchors adorn the wall above the small dining table, a wicker chair and side table sit off to the side, and I can’t help but focus in on the stenciled sailboats on the kitchen cabinets. Phoebe told me her parents were back here a few times in the last few years. But, if this décor says anything, it’s that Evelyn Stromberg hasn’t been to the “shack” since Duncan and Phoebe were still in single digits.

Stepping through the sliding glass door to the patio, Duncan lets out a long whistle. “That’s what I’m talking about.” Just a few steps from the patio is an amazing view of the Pacific Ocean. A small patch of grass is just beyond the patio and leads to a set of steps that wind down the side of a mountain toward the sand.

Mountain sounds like an exaggeration. It’s not.

I’ve been to the ocean before and even taken a few surfing lessons, but I’ve never lived somewhere this close to the ocean. The fact that, standing here, I can hear the waves crashing seems . . . surreal. We’re damn lucky.

Without much conversation, we head down the steps toward the sand. Once we’re walking down, I realize my assessment of the mountain isn’t that far off, but it’s not nearly as scary as it seemed standing on the deck.

We kick off our flip-flops and dig our toes in the sand. Phoebe curls into my side, her arms circling my waist. I pull her closer and place a kiss to the side of her head as Kelsey lets out a squeal when Duncan scoops her up and tosses her over his shoulder fireman style. Dunc takes off running toward the ocean with Kelsey threatening to cut him off from sex for a week if he tosses her in.

“Is it only me or do you feel like the parents in this scenario?” Phoebe asks. I can’t have that.

“Let’s show ’em we’re anything but,” I say before Phoebe can respond. Mimicking Duncan’s move, I scoop Phoebe over my shoulder. Only, unlike Kelsey’s threats, Phoebe breaks into a fit of laughter that includes a few snorts before I hightail it into the ocean. Instead of tossing her into the water, I gently set her down onto her feet. The waves crash around us, my shorts getting soaked while her dress clings to her.

I lean down and lift her by the waist so she’s eye level with me. Phoebe wraps her legs around my waist, and I capture her mouth with my own. I fucking love this girl and hope she knows how much she means to me.

“We’re going to have the best summer. I can’t believe we’re here.” I accept the kisses she plants all across my face before pulling my face back to look at her.

“Are you ready to live out one of those fantasies of yours?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows.

“Which? Sex in public or sex in the ocean?”

“Babe, we’ve got four weeks. We’ll do it all.”

“Except the butt. I’m not letting you stick it in the exit.” She’s teasing, but I know she’s also dead serious.

“I know, no backdoor until the front door is broken.”

We’re laughing and kissing; Duncan and Kelsey are running down the beach, and I hear a deep voice behind me.

“I don’t believe it. Fancy! What are you doing here?”

“Jackson?” Phoebe screeches, peering over my shoulder. Before I know it, she’s sliding from my embrace and leaping into some guy’s arms. A guy who isn’t me.

Jackson Morgan is not exactly my favorite person right now. I mean, he seems cool enough. If you’re into that laid-back California surfer way. But, I still want to wipe that smirk off his face. Phoebe manages to stop her cooing long enough to introduce us and call Duncan over. Apparently, Jackson grew up in the house next door and has never left. Kelsey seems as enamored with him as Phoebe and Duncan, and all three sit around, hanging on his every word. I’ve yet to find anything interesting about this guy, but whatever.

Okay fine. Maybe I’m a little jealous. Who wouldn’t be? It’s obvious by the stubble on his chin, shoulder-length, sun-bleached blond hair, and bright blue eyes that Thor is his idol. Women love Thor. Me? Not so much. As I assess him, the Thor wannabe keeps laughing, and both Phoebe—who he has been calling Fancy, which makes me want to nut punch him—and Kelsey break into a fit of giggles.

“Hey guys,” I interrupt unsuccessfully. I clear my throat, walk up behind Phoebe, and put my hand on her shoulder.

“Oh sorry, did you say something, babe?”

“Yeah, I think we should go to the store if we want to eat anything today.” I may be staking my claim like a complete jackass, but my hands rub Phoebe’s shoulders in a way that guarantees one of her sexy purrs will make an appearance in 3, 2 . . .

“Mmm . . . I swear your hands are magical.”

I place a kiss on the top of her head as her hand reaches for mine, and I tug her to a standing position.

“You guys should just come by the house tonight. We’ve got beers and burgers, why go to the store now?” Jackson seems sincere, but I’m not buying the good guy act.

“Nah, man. We should get some things. Besides we don’t have coffee, and if there is one thing the Strombergs have in common, it’s the need for caffeine first thing in the morning.”

“Ain’t that the truth? Let’s hit the store, then we can swing by for a beer later, sound cool?” Duncan asks, lifting Kelsey from her perch.

The necessities are purchased, well, and a few unnecessary necessities. Regardless of pouty lips or puppy-dog eyes by Kelsey and Phoebe, three different creamers are not necessary, we head back to the house to unload our loot and start dinner. The time difference is starting to take its toll on me and hopefully Phoebe, too. I’d prefer a quiet night in with my girl, christening our new bed.

While the girls are making a salad, and planning their first day on the beach, Duncan grabs two beers and joins me on the deck, where I have the grill started. Minutes tick by with neither Duncan nor myself saying a word. Heavy on my mind are the interviews and how much I need to do in the next ten days before I hop a plane and face my future. Duncan told me a few days ago he was feeling the pressure of starting law school and getting married. I suggested he talk to Kelsey and tell her maybe he wasn’t ready to get married. But he admitted marrying Kelsey wasn’t stressing him out. It was the idea of more school and the expectations his father set on him.

I don’t have that problem. My dad bailed when I was thirteen and my mom raised my older sister and me alone. As much as I empathize with Duncan and the pressure his father puts on him, the expectations to follow in his footsteps and find success as a lawyer, I envy him too. My mom has only ever encouraged Erin and me to follow our dreams, and we both did that, but I’d be lying if I didn’t wish I had my dad around to push my ass and give me grief when I fuck up.

“Did you tell Phoebe about the interviews?”

“Yeah. She seems happy for me.”

“Of course, she is, man. My sister loves you. I never thought I’d see the day, but you did it. Tamed the bit—sorry, beast.” Duncan is learning to watch what he calls his sister. I give him a little leeway because he is my best friend long before Phoebe and I got together, and will stay that way. But, he has to respect that I won’t stand for him calling her names. Not on my watch.

“I didn’t tame anyone. Your sister is an amazing woman, and you should stop being such a fucking dumbass and say nice things to her sometimes.”

“Eh, whatever. It’s not how we are. I mean, she’s my sister, but we aren’t all about the warm fuzzies and shit. Ya know, Kelsey about creamed herself at the idea of you guys moving to New York. Do you think if you convince Phoebe to move, she’ll finally call you her boyfriend?”

“Nah, I expect your sister will still refuse to put a label on our relationship after we’ve been married ten years and are carting around three kids and a dog.”

Duncan spits out his beer, and I laugh. The word “kids” always sends him into a choking fit. Probably because he knows Kelsey is counting down the days until she can toss her birth control in the trash and start on little Duncan Stromberg V. Poor bastard.

After another beer, the steaks are done and the four of us settle around the table on the deck. I could live this life. Sitting near the ocean with my girl and our best friends, sharing a meal. I recognize how lucky we are, and while on the surface we look like a foursome of entitled assholes, we aren’t. We know we’ve got it good and appreciate every damn second of it.

The fact that this exact scenario is a possibility should freak me out. I’m twenty-three years old and just graduated from college. I should be wanting to rage and party like Jackson next door. I should be planning a backpacking trip across Europe or another post-graduate cliché.

But, instead, I’m wondering how freaked out Phoebe will be if I propose after Duncan and Kelsey’s wedding. I push that thought aside and take the last bite of my steak as a hand I’m very familiar with cups my balls and squeezes. My dick is instantly on high alert, and I cough a little in surprise.

I glance over to my girl who isn’t paying any attention to me, only my crotch, as she continues her conversation with Kelsey. Duncan pushes his plate aside and rapidly taps out something on his phone. I place my hand on Phoebe’s and she hesitates, probably assuming I’m going to remove it. I don’t. Instead, I move it up so she’s gripping my length and a small, and very wicked, smile appears on her lips; the lips I expect to be wrapped about my very hard dick in less than fifteen minutes.

I give Phoebe a few minutes to work me into a frenzy before I slide my chair back and grab her arm by the elbow standing her up and placing her body in front of mine. “I cooked, you two clean up. We’ll get it tomorrow night. I think we’re tired,” I say quickly as I drag Phoebe toward the bedroom, her giggles overshadowing Duncan’s protests.

As soon as we make it into our room and the door closes behind us, I turn her body so she’s flush against the wall. Her eyes widen, lust and love fill them. We’re going to christen this bed, maybe even the wall, and I’m going to make my girl scream until her voice is a whisper and her brother cries for it to stop.

Goals in life are everything.