Slow Dancing on Price's Pier by Lisa Dale Page B

out in gratitude, already rejoicing in the decision she’d made.
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    As the months of their junior year passed, Thea did her best to keep her feelings about Garret to herself—to hide the ebullient joy that bubbled up within her when she heard him shout to her in the hallway, to secret away the intense desire of something she couldn’t quite name. Garret had been her hero from day one; he was bold, friendly, and he loved to make people happy. When his mother was having a bad day, he cheered her up, teasing her until she laughed and shooed him away. When a favorite teacher was taking flack from an unruly student, Garret wasn’t afraid to step in and put his own reputation on the line.
    Much as Garret enjoyed helping those around him, it was the way he’d helped Thea that truly touched her. On their junior class trip just before summer break, he waited in line with her, stifling hot and unspeakably thirsty, for a roller coaster that no one else in her group would ride. When she forgot her lunch money, he bought her a sandwich, whether she wanted it or not. As the daughter of working-class parents—the girl who didn’t have a future in Ivy League colleges or sorority halls—only Garret’s public support saved her from complete outcast status.
    Once, when they were at a party together, some kids playing volleyball on the beach, others surfing small waves along the shore, and others grilling burgers and shish kebab, someone had thought it would be funny to tell Garret that Thea “liked” him. She sat with her plastic plate on her lap, her face turning red as ketchup while everyone laughed, and she couldn’t even find the poise to lie and say “That’s not true.”
    Garret had saved her then. He’d gone to sit by her, to turn the whole thing into a joke. “As if I’d be that lucky,” he’d said, and he put his arm around her, her skin and his separated only by sticky, gritty sand.
    He spared her the mortification of having her secret displayed like the banners flown by planes above the beach—and yet some part of her felt that he’d failed her. Someone had told him she loved him, but he hadn’t cared enough to ask if it was true.

    As the sailboat approached the docks, Garret had spotted Thea before anyone else had—just a blotch of white against the landscape—and since that moment he hadn’t stopped watching her, if only from the corner of his eye.
    He’d seen more of Thea in the last few weeks than he’d ever thought possible, especially since he’d never wanted to see her again. She brought out the worst in him—everything that was cynical, begrudging, and snide. He knew that in some twisted way, his discomfort wasn’t a fear of seeing her, but a hope of seeing her—she, the woman who’d torn him from his family and broken his heart.
    He watched Irina charging down the narrow dock toward her father, her footsteps clomping along the wood and resounding against the night. Thea, in shorts that showed more of her skin than he could stand to see, was following.
    Oh no, you don’t, he thought.
    He jumped from the boat, landing on one foot and immediately moving into a jog. His brother and Irina didn’t notice him, but Thea did. At the other end of the long and narrow dock, her walk slowed. Her eyes widened. She pulled herself up straight, as if she knew she was about to cross a line.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” He stood before her, blocking her way.
    She peered around his shoulder. “I’m trying to collect my daughter.”
    â€œShe’ll be done in a minute,” he said.
    Thea crossed her arms, looked up at him. Her hazel eyes glinted green and gold in the light above them. “So you’re protecting him from me now? You’re his bodyguard against his intimidating soon-to-be ex-wife?”
    â€œWhen he wants to see you, he’ll let you know.”
    She