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“I cannot talk to him while he’s wearing a speedo,” I exclaim, hoping the panic seems legit. She doesn’t need to know I’m imagining watching water drops sliding down a well-toned, tanned chest. At this point, they both understand the relationship between Will and me is done. I’m just waiting to be back home to officially end it. I’d never act on my feelings toward Carter, but I also don’t think it’s smart to be that close to an attractive man when he’s basically naked. “You said it yourself. It’s weird talking to them when they’re wearing nothing.”

“He’s not wearing a speedo.” Josie laughs, shaking her head. I gawk at her, my eyes drifting back to where Carter stands, or stood. He’s disappeared off the deck. I don’t know what she calls a speedo, but that was it. “Speedo is a brand. What he was wearing is a brief.”

I look at Mia, wondering if Josie has completely lost it, but the other woman just nods and leans closer to be heard over the crowd. “It’s a common misconception that just kind of stuck. The suits they wear when they’re racing are called Jammers. Carter’s sponsorship is with another brand, so he’s wearing their version of a brief.”

I just blink, more confused now than I was ten minutes ago. Even the wardrobe needs translations and definitions. Could this sport get any more complicated?

“I was hoping he’d come say hello,” Josie replies, looking a little sad. “I know it’s weird seeing people like this, but it gets better, I promise.”

“Plus, Carter is the easiest person to talk to,” Mia adds. I want to tell her I already know that, but standing in front of him with all that skin on display and a brief that leaves nothing to the imagination would be dangerous to my heart and my sanity. “I don’t know where he went, though.”

I glance around the deck, noting that I don’t see him either, and am suddenly thankful for small blessings.

“Oh, well.” Josie shrugs. “He saw me wave. Maybe he went to find Bryce. I’m sure we’ll see him soon.”

Fucking hell, I internally groan. Hopefully, when he comes back, he’ll have more clothes on.

February2024

I don’t care that Bryce is talking to one of our old coaches when I find him; I grab his arm and drag him away from the conversation, flashing a smile at the coach as I do. My parents still raised me to be polite, even when I’m interrupting conversations.

“Hello to you, too.” Bryce laughs, practically tripping over his own feet as I drag him to a mostly quiet corner.

Once we’re away from anyone we know, I glare up at him. “Dude, what the hell? Did you kidnap our contractor or something?”

The smile drops from his face as he glances across the pool where we can see Josie and Mia. Beside Josie, looking confused and a little uncomfortable, is a strikingly beautiful blonde woman who I can only assume is Kat.

“No, she agreed to come. There was no kidnapping.”

“What is she even doing here?” I snap. “And why didn’t you warn me?”

“It’s not that big of a deal, man.” Bryce shrugs. “She’s not sure what we need, but is willing to learn, so I figured this was a good chance for her to experience swimming firsthand. There’s nothing she’s needed for on-site today and wasn’t going home for the weekend. It just worked. Why would I need to tell you she’s coming?”

“Because it has to do with me and being professional.” I fight the urge to look back to where the three women are sitting in the stands. “Some warning would have been nice.”

A knowing smirk appears on my best friend’s face as he crosses his arms. Internally, I groan. There’s nothing worse than a smug Bryce Clark. “Oh, my god, you’re flustered.”

“What? No—no, I’m not!” My sputtering only makes him laugh. “Dude, shut up. Who the fuck says flustered anymore?”

He cackles. “No, you’re totally flustered by this girl! Why?”

“Have you seen her?” I demand, vaguely motioning behind me. I silently pray they’re not looking our way because Mia and Josie will know we’re talking about them.

Bryce’s smugness is back. “Yes, I have. I’ve been working with her for a month, but this is the first time you’re seeing her.”

“And I didn’t expect her to look like that! You could have at least warned me aboutthat.”

Bryce knows my type, whether it’s a man or a woman, and Katrina hits all my boxes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve been too busy pulling our business together to even think about playing cupid between you and our contractor. My bad.”

I glare at him. “Stop being an ass.”

His grin returns. “I’m not being an ass; I’m having an appropriate reaction to this new information!”

I want to walk away, pretend this conversation never happened, and spend the rest of the weekend pretending I have no idea who he is.

“She’s got a boyfriend, man.” The words—spoken in a sober tone—are like a bucket of ice water over my head, a reminder of something I’d so conveniently let slip from my conscious. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”