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“You’re driving my shit like it’s a go-kart!”

“Relax,” she said, completely unbothered, flipping her blinker on two seconds too late. “It’s insured.”

“That’s not the point! “I barked.

She bit back a laugh. “It’s a little bit the point.”

“What about dying?”

She laughed at me like I was a joke.

I exhaled through my nose. Deep. Slow. Trying not to say anything else that sounded like I was afraid for my life.

She was glowing. Joy looked good on her. She looked like she hadn’t just caught her husband fucking my wife less than two days ago, and I wondered if I had anything to do with that.

We pulled into the Publix lot. She threw it in park and turned to look at me, eyes all big and innocent but filled with mischief too.

“We’re having a picnic on the beach.”

“Are we?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. It’s a nice day. Sun cures sadness. You want me to be cured, don’t you?”

I blinked. “I’m not sad. And you didn’t have to be dramatic. I was going to say yes.”

She laughed—head thrown back—then jumped out of the truck and came around and opened my door for me. Her fingers curled around my hand without asking.

My hand closed around hers.

We walked like that into the store. Through produce, past the rotisserie chickens, down the freezer aisle. Like it was normal. Like we knew each other.

I was just grateful my shirt was long enough to hide the situation going on below my belt.

What kind of man gets hard from holding hands?

Apparently, me.

Halfway through seafood, she suddenly cleared her throat and dropped my hand as if she suddenly realized she was walking around a public place with a married man that wasn’t hers. I looked down at the space where she’d been and then up at her. She looked guilty but was pretending to study the shrimp.

I didn’t say a word. I helped her pick out sandwiches, strawberries. She ordered steamed crab legs and shrimp. Grabbed a couple slices of cake.

We were on the way out when she told me, “I need to use the restroom,” she said before she turned back to go inside.

I had unloaded what we bought and was sitting in the driver’s seat when she came back, opening my door.

“Why can’t I drive?” she asked. I could hear the pout in her voice. I didn’t even look over at her little self. I spoke, sunglasses covering my eyes, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift.

“Because you drive like you ain’t scared to die. Go get in, sweetheart.”

She laughed, but walked around the car, taking her time, frowning at me through the windshield.

The beach was crowded when we got there, but not enough to stop us from finding a space. When we did, she peeled off her shorts and shirt so fast I barely had time to process it. My head went right to left. There were too many men’s eyes turned in our direction. I gritted my teeth, my face going hot.

“Put that back on, you in your underwear,” I barked, sharper than I meant. She was wearing black lace with her smooth skin peeking through the fabric, fat pussy print very visible.

She turned over her shoulder to look at me, short hair wild from the wind, eyes wide. “Sam, it’s literally the same amount of fabric as a bikini.”

She wasn’t wrong. I shut up, reminding myself this wasn’t my woman. I bit my tongue while she ran toward the water.