This part of the beach is lined with resorts with chairs, umbrellas, and people. So many people.

I mean, that’s probably a good thing since I’m following this perfect stranger—this random, hot piece of yum.

Jesus.

As my grounding force and voice of reason, my best friend, Lisbeth Rittenhouse, would have a coronary if she knew I was taking off down the beach with a rando. I’ve known her forever, and when we moved in together during our sophomore year of college, it was the best decision that we’d made. She needed to get out of her house, away from her toxic family, and dorm life held absolutely no appeal for me.

I should text her and let her know I miss her, tell her about all the lovely scenery on the beach, and send her a picture of that ass.

“Shit.” I stutter to a stop and huff out a frustrated laugh.

Gavin turns to me. “What? You having second thoughts? Just remembered you have a thing with a person and stuff, and you can’t miss it?” He looks past me, eyes crinkling at the corners as he pushes at those curls again, vulnerable as his veil drops and he expects to be bailed on.

“No, it’s just … I grabbed cash when I left the condo this morning but left my phone. I …” I shift my feet in the hot sand.

Gavin reaches into his pocket and extends his phone to me. “Here, use mine.”

I stare at the pink-and-black tiger-striped case, and as hard as I try, I can’t help the laugh that bursts from my chest.

“That’s pretty.” I laugh at the sweet way he cocks his head to the side. “I’m good though. I was just going to text my friend real quick. She had to stay home and work this week, and I kind of feel bad for her.” I wave off his offer and start walking again.

Gavin guides me up the stairs of a beachfront bar to a table tucked into the back corner of the deck. He pulls a chair out for me and adjusts the umbrella to give us a little relief from the blazing Florida sun.

A waitress stomps over and glares at us.

“The hostess stand is up front. You really need to see her for a table.” The gum-snapping pizza queen looks like a Jersey Shore transplant with her teased-out, bumped-up ponytail and frosty pearl-white lipstick.

Words are bubbling up in my chest, ones where I lay her low and school her on how to greet a customer, launch into a tirade on how to be a good server and to appreciate where her tips are coming from.

Yes, I could be called a rich bitch. I sure as hell don’t have to work. In fact, my dad is so horribly against it, and maybe pure rebellion is a big part of the appeal for me. But waiting tables is all about customer service, and this chick has chapped my ass in a big, bad way. With my palms on the table, I lean forward, eyes narrowed to slits, and I open my mouth, ready to let loose.

Gavin’s throaty chuckle messes with my mojo and stops my word vomit seconds before it spews all over everything.

“Hang on, killer. I’ll be right back,” he says to me.

He unfolds himself from the table and encourages the wicked witch to lead the way to the hostess stand. And unfold is the only way to describe the action. He ducks his head until he’s clear of the umbrella, and when he straightens to his full height, I have to tilt my head all the way back to catch his wink and smile before he turns to walk away.

He grabs his T-shirt out of his back pocket and pulls it over his head as he makes his way into the restaurant. It’s a shame, truly a disgrace, for him to cover up that back. A crime against nature really, and as I glance around the deck, I notice several other girls seem to be mourning the loss of the view.

Now, I truly wish I had my phone with me.

My intent isn’t to make Lis feel bad for being stuck in New York, but she shouldn’t have to miss out on everything. Normally, I’d have snapped, tweeted, and had him all over my Insta by now.

And Lis would be asking me all the responsible questions: Where are you? What’s his name? Does he have a record? Are you making good choices? That’s why she’s my person. She loves me and all my crazy.

Instead, I commit him to memory, so I can tell her all the details later. Like the way his shorts hug his round ass and how his tee is fighting to properly span the lean muscles of his back and broad shoulders. The way he shoves his sunglasses to the top of his head, trapping the wild golden curls cascading down the back of his head. The way he leans over the hostess stand, resting on his forearms, while he flirts just a little, so we can keep our prime table in the corner of the crowded restaurant deck.

With an eye-crinkling smile, he straightens and makes his way back over to me, winking just as he settles his sunglasses down over his whiskey-colored eyes.

“Our waitress will be with us shortly,” he says as he slides into his chair. “And the first round is on the house.” His grin hitches up higher on one side.

“How did you swing that?” I lean back in my chair, angling so that I can prop my feet up on the deck railing.

He scoots his chair, mimicking my slouchy pose. “I just smiled a little. Sure as shit didn’t bite anyone’s head off. What was that about anyway? You have some anger issues I need to be aware of?” he asks, looking at me over the top of his sunglasses.

“Smart-ass. No, but I work in a restaurant during the semester with my friend, and it’s just not that hard to be nice to people, you know?” I nod my head toward the gum-snapping pizza queen as she huffs past us to a table that’s obviously outside of her section. “Did you get us a different waitress, too?”

A cute girl with platinum blonde hair and a purple undercut is coming our way with a bucket of beers and a couple of glasses of water.

“I did.” Gavin flashes our new waitress, Dahlia, a pearly smile and says, “Thanks, doll. We’ll take an order of nachos and some wings.” He tilts his head toward me and addresses me, “That good with you, babe?”

Babe?

I nod slowly, biting my lower lip to keep my snarky comment in check for the time being. “Sounds good, muffin.”

His pouty lower lip twitches at that.

“Great. I’ll get that right in for you. And I’m so sorry about the confusion.” Dahlia pops the tops off two bottles and tucks the opener into the bucket of ice before running off to put in our order.

I look out at the ocean, watching the teal water rise and roll its way up onto the white sand.

Gavin sets an open bottle of beer next to me and grabs his own, holding it out for a tap.

I raise mine and stare at him just long enough that he starts impatiently swinging his bottle back and forth.

“What did you tell them?” I nod toward the hostess stand. “What confusion and why the special ass-kissing treatment?”

He stretches his arm, leaning into the table, loudly clinking our bottles together. Settling back in his chair, Gavin takes a pull from his beer and taps his fingers on the tabletop, matching the beat of the music coming through the speakers.

How am I going to explain this bullshit, so Gracyn doesn’t think I’m a total ass? Or insane.

I buy myself a little time, wanting to spin it just right, tapping out the beat of the reggae playing on the sound system. Gracyn and her grit are quickly weaving their way into the forefront of my thoughts. She’s mighty, maybe a little bit scary. But she’s got the whole give-and-take thing going on, and that is sexy as hell.

Fuck it.

“I told them that you were on tour with Gaga. That you were trying to have a relaxing week while the tour’s on hiatus.” I don’t look at her as the words tumble from my mouth. I can’t. As it is, I’m afraid my teeth are going to pierce my lower lip; I’m biting down so hard to keep from laughing my ass off. It’s a ridiculous story. Gaga doesn’t take time off mid-tour.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can just barely see her shoulders bouncing.

“You’re kidding, right?” She laughs.

The funky, punky waitress swoops in with our food, rescuing me from trying to defend my actions. The truth is, my sister’s a classically trained chef, and she went to school with the owner. We bonded while he was in school with Sasha over a bottle of bourbon while she worked on her dessert dissertation or whatever. And then he opted out of the fussy foodie world and headed to the beach for good weather and chicks in bikinis.

“Anything else I can grab for you?” the waitress asks as she turns and starts tapping her pen on the table, mimicking my rhythm.

Gracyn pinches her lower lip between her thumb and forefinger again and shakes her head, finally meeting my gaze, her eyes sparkling.

“Nah, I think we’re good for a bit. Thanks.” I pop open another set of beers, passing one across to Gracyn. “Here’s to your relaxing week.”

“You’re out of control.” She chuckles and taps me back. As she digs into the wings, she hits me with some get-to-know-you conversation. “Tell me about you. How long have you been doing this music thing?”

“Playing or trying to make something of it?” I make the mistake of looking up at her just as she pulls a saucy finger out of her mouth.

Goddamn, those plump lips.

“Either. Yes. All of it.”

I hand Gracyn a napkin because I’m not sure I can survive her licking another finger.

“I’ve played forever, as long as I can remember.”

“Just guitar, or do you have other talents?” She smirks.

There are so many fucking ways I can answer her because that is a loaded question.

Smirking, I give her a ridiculously appropriate response, “I play bass as well but prefer guitar. Piano, violin, cello. I can fake it on the drums, but I don’t love it. Ian is a hell of a lot better than I am.” I shrug and snag some nachos, adding a healthy dollop of sour cream before popping one in my mouth.

The wind whips her blonde waves up and across her face, lodging a lock in a sticky bit of sauce. Somehow, all of her fingers are smeared with the spicy stuff, and the back of her hand is just about useless. I reach across the table and pull the silky strands from where they’re glued to her lips.

The air shifts and changes between us, crackling with electricity and something else. Something I don’t think I’ve ever felt before, certainly not with my ex-girlfriend, Sarah.

I lazily wind the pale blonde piece around my finger, letting it slide between my callused fingertips before tucking it safely behind her ear.

A rosy blush covers her cheeks that I’m pretty sure has nothing to do with the sun.

Looks like she’s feeling whatever this is, too.