Sting by Jennifer Ryder Page B

are you staying for?”
    “Not sure. I’m kind of playing it by ear, but I seem to be finding more reasons to stay.”
    “Like what?” she says, turning her head towards me.
    “Well, for one, friends,” I say, and place my hand over hers, which is flat on the towel beside my hip.
    She frowns, and looks at me as if I’ve pulled a David Copperfield on her and made a plane disappear.
    “Yep. Friends.” I run my thumb over her knuckles.
    She takes in a sharp breath. “Nothing wrong with friends,” she says and sighs.
    I sit up and lean in closer, the warm skin of our shoulders meeting. Taking in a deep breath, I take a good long look at her lips, which I’d bet my life are soft and equally as sweet. Then I consider what I just told her. Friends . I guess I’ll see how this plays out.
    “Not one thing. We’re friends, right?” I ask.
    She swallows hard, and makes this movement with her head, which I’m not absolutely sure if it’s a nod or a shake.
    A hiccup bursts from her mouth.
    “Do I take that as a yes?” I ask through a chuckle.
    Another hiccup. Then she smiles so bright I consider moving in and tasting those lips.
    “Yes, I guess we’re friends,” she says. Well, there goes that thought then. Friends it is. Challenge accepted.
    I tap her freckled nose gently with my index finger. “Well, friend , I hate to leave, but I’ve gotta go.” I squeeze her hand, and then rise to my feet.
    “You’re going?” The disappointment all over her face is as obvious as the late afternoon sun is hot.
    “Yeah, sorry. I’ve got a big day tomorrow, and I’m gonna need all the energy I can get. But don’t worry; I’ll be in for my brew in the morning, Blondie. Nice and early,” I promise.
    “Tomorrow,” she says softly and looks up. With the sun now in her eyes, she squints, causing a line to form between her groomed brows. “Um, yeah, me too. I’m short-staffed, so I’ll be run off my feet.”
    I extend my hand. Willow slips her fingers through mine, and I pull her to her feet. I yank a little harder than necessary and she falls against my body. Her free hand presses to my chest and her bare stomach collides with my hips. There’s a semi-boner there, waiting for her, that I guarantee she felt. Judging by the blush spreading across her cheeks, I’d say yes. I might get in trouble for it, but hell, some things are worth the risk. I’m just testing the waters here. Really, I’ve got a good mind to wrap those legs around my waist and drive into her. The urge to do it is stronger than I’m prepared for.
    “Sorry,” I say, and flash her a triumphant grin. “Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”
    She snorts air through her nose. “I’m on to you,” she says, ever so quietly. I hear her, which I don’t think she intended for me to. I grin with satisfaction. At least she didn’t slap me for it.
    “What’s that, friend?” I say, raising my eyebrows.
    “Nothing.” Willow removes her hat and slips a short white sundress over her head.
    Of course, it’s white.
    What the fuck is it about a woman wearing white? Is it that whole virginal thing? A vision of a bride? Whatever it is, it’s got my dick hard. Cement ain’t got nothin’ on what I’m packin’.
    Gone is the knockout view of Willow in her bikini. Her in this dress? At this point, it’s the next best thing I can hope for. She shakes out her towel, throws it over her shoulder and walks slowly in the direction of the car park, her white thongs dangling from her left hand. As I position my surfboard under my arm, I take a moment to appreciate how the dress barely covers the gentle curve of her arse. The breeze rewards me with the occasional peek-a-boo. Small victories.
    Mamma-fuckin’-mia. This beauty will be the death of me.
    I jog to catch up, and slip my hand into hers.
    I’m rewarded with a smirk, and a gentle squeeze of my fingers.
    Friends . Let’s see how long this lasts.
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    WILLOW
    “Well, hello,” Gabs