The great blow-job debacle seems to be in the past.

Maybe.

But I’m avoiding that shit hard right now, so that’s a win.

“So … that was Nate. Aren’t bass players supposed to be a little off? Different?” I look over at Gavin as we walk down the beach with the white sand squeaking between our toes. “He seems so … normal. Almost buttoned up and uptight.”

“Yeah. Nate’s not really like the rest of us.” Gavin hands me his coffee cup and pulls his hair back, securing it with the purple band I gave him.

“How? Have you guys known each other for a while?”

“We have. Went to school together as kids, and there was no doubt that Kane, Ian, and I would jam together. Nate’s the outlier. He wasn’t really part of our crew in high school, but we couldn’t do this without him. He’s fucking solid.”

Gavin gets so animated when he talks music; it’s mesmerizing.

“So … multiple instruments. Always wanted to play. Had your people lined up. What made you do the college thing first?” I dance around in front of him until I’m walking backward, letting him guide me around sand castles and kiddos. “Better yet, how did you make the leap to quit?”

“Didn’t quit,” he states adamantly. “I chose to take a hiatus. I mean, when, if not now, would I ever do this? This is the time. No real responsibilities, nothing tying me down. Why wouldn’t I try? I can go back to school any-fucking-time I want. That opportunity is always there. But to have these guys, this chance now, and piss it away? That would be insanity.”

“And your family? They’re okay with it? They aren’t pissed about you blowing off the adulting?” The thought of that kind of support is fascinating to me.

Gavin stops dead in his tracks and rests his free hand on his hip, brows drawn and lip sneered at me. “God, no. Why would they be upset? I’m exploring possibilities, living my dream … seeing if this shit works out. Not committing murder or anything serious like that. Hell, my parents are our biggest supporters. They’ve encouraged the shit out of this.” His arms go wide as he turns and sweeps them toward the line of condos and beach bars up away from the water. “Don’t your parents support your career choice?”

More like they’re holding a knife to my back.

“They do. It’s just different, I guess.” I don’t want to get too deep into my family and our shit. We are the masters of illusion, the very best at maintaining facades.

“How? You support your kids and their dreams, encourage them to explore their possibilities and find the things they love in life. To find themselves, right?”

God, how I wish he were right.

“Yeah, that’s not really how my family rolls. They tend to be more about appearances than actualization.” I laugh awkwardly as the words spill from my mouth. “My brother’s the only one who’s really real, so …”

Turning, I try to move us along the hot sand—as much to move this conversation to safer ground as to keep my feet from burning. We’re getting too close to shit I would much rather avoid at all costs.

“What does your brother do? Is he older? Younger?”

“Older by three minutes, but he won’t let me forget that—ever.”

Bryan has all the freedom I wish I had.

“Twins. What’s that like? Do you have the twin thing? Share a brain?”

I’m a maestro at explaining things without really explaining anything. Giving the feel of complete disclosure when I have the ugly truth of things on serious lockdown. It’s taken years to perfect, but since my parents have always insisted on flawless outward show, I’ve had tons of practice.

“Bryan lives in California. The family business wasn’t … for him. But he and I share a ton of likes and dislikes. We’re interested in a lot of the same things,” I tell Gavin, fiddling with the straps of my beach bag.

I’m not lying. It’s just not the whole truth.

The blinding white sand scorches the soles of my feet, so I find a spot and set my bag down before pulling off my skirt and dropping it on the pile. It’s impossible to wear shoes in the sand; it’s more annoying than anything when the fine grains get trapped between my toes and flip-flops, rubbing the skin raw. Dancing through the heat, skipping across the sand, I don’t stop until the blue-green water crashes around my feet.

Knees bent as the next wave comes, I drag my hands through the cool water, spinning as the sand swirls and rushes around my ankles. Gavin’s still standing by my bag, his lower lip tugged deliciously between his teeth, a smirk set firmly across his face. And he looks nothing short of yummy. Beach bum eye candy all the way.

I step back into the waves as I hook my finger in his direction. We need a change of subject badly, something to get us off the topic of my family and any hints of longevity. This needs to stay a fling … a just-for-now thing.

Reaching back, Gavin pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the ground by my skirt. Heads turn, lips are bitten, and I’m pretty sure the collective heart rate in the immediate vicinity just ramped up to thunderous levels. Broad shoulders with a deep golden tan, defined pecs, and abs that taste as amazing as they look lead to board shorts that hang precariously low on slim hips highlighting that ass and that V-cut that tends to make a girl’s mouth go dry.

Time stops for a minute, an hour, the beat of my heart. And then, in the flash of an eye, he’s running full speed and straight at me. My scream catches in my throat as I start backpedaling, trying to put some space between us … but not really. A wave crashes into my back as Gavin lowers his shoulder and grabs me up around my ass, launching us both into the churning teal water.

As the wave recedes, and another one takes its place, Gavin pushes up, his powerful thighs launching us through the swell of the next wave until we breach the surface. Water sluices down our faces, gathering in the valley of where our bodies are pressed together. We’re chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose. His hands palm my ass, pulling my legs around his waist. Gavin shifts slightly, somehow bringing us even closer together. The hard planes of his body, the press of his fingertips digging into my thighs, his whiskey-brown eyes shifting back and forth between mine—he captivates me and draws me in. When his lips are just a breath away, he throws me over his shoulder like I’m weightless.

Laughter racks my body as I sputter and kick my way up out of the water.

“Ass,” rolls off my lips as I dip my head back under to tame my wild hair from my face.

Gavin’s big shit-eating grin greets me, and he grabs for my hand, pulling me through the water. I end up floating, bobbing in front of him, my toes just barely able to scrape the shifting sand beneath me. He pulls me closer, and my legs wind their way back around his waist.

“You like it, don’t you?” he asks.

We ride the rolling of the waves, Gavin carrying me with him as he bounces along.

Digging my heels in where they sit, crossed on the upper swell of his ass, I laugh with a shrug of my shoulder. “Meh. It’s okay.”

In reality, it’s fantastic. Even in my panic as he charged down the beach at me moments ago, I saw the soccer moms’ eyes slide down his back and land firmly on that particular region.

With the next surge, he turns and kicks, propelling us back in toward shallow water, the wave rolling over his face.

“Better,” he says as he stands, and my feet find purchase beneath me. “We were getting kind of deep. You, uh, didn’t seem to be real comfortable with that.”

“I was fine. I knew you had me.” I chuckle, dancing to the music floating down from someone’s blanket.

“Wasn’t talking about the water.” He nods toward the beach, toward my bag, where I practically ran away from a conversation that was definitely getting more profound than I wanted. “But you’re right. I’ve got you … if you let me.”

And, with that, my heart surges like the waves washing past us, crashing in a flurry of beauty and violence.

It’s the crash that scares me to death.