Page 69

“All good,” Leo says, tucking his phone in the pocket of his shorts and looking up.

“Hi,” I wheeze.

He blinks, eyes so blue it hurts to look into them. His lips part on a swiftly drawn breath. “Amelia,” he says softly.

The boy—Vincent—grabs his dad’s hand. “You know her?” he asks brightly. “That’s crazy. She looks way too cool for you, Dad! How did you meet a lady with pink hair?”

For the first time since dying it, I experience a moment’s regret. It passes, but not before a revelation sinks in. Even outside Oasis—perhaps even more so—I don’t belong in Leo’s world.

He’s still staring at me, though he’s regained his poise. The calm and collected doctor. The flush on his cheekbones is merely the sun’s doing. The rigidity in his shoulders must be because of how fucking uncomfortable this moment is. Our stolen night together hangs between us, stark in the light of day.

“How are you?” he finally asks. “It’s good to see you.”

I clear my throat too loudly. “Good! Great, actually. Working here, obviously, and just, you know, living life.”

I choke back more word-vomit and mentally slap myself. Good show, Mia. Really classy.

Leo, however, only smiles warmly, those infinitely charming crinkles appearing at the corners of his spectacle-free eyes. “How’s your father doing?”

“Really great, thanks. Healthy as a horse these days.” I make an effort to speak with a normal cadence, but overshoot the mark and end up sounding stoned.

Fuck my life.

Leo drags a hand over his unshaven jaw, brilliant eyes glinting with laughter. His gaze darts to my crimson cheeks then flickers up.

“I like the hair, by the way. It suits you.”

“Enough flirting already!” bleats Vince. “I’m hungry!”

We both chuckle in that stilted, child-said-something-embarrassing way. Snagging a couple of menus, I lead them to a table with a view of the boardwalk. As soon as they’re seated, I mumble something about getting them water. Vince’s voice stops me before I can escape.

“Do you surf?” he asks, grinning up at me. “You look like a surfer.”

I glance at Leo, who’s watching me with a soft smile that turns my insides to jelly. “I sure do,” I tell Vince. “Almost every day. You look like you surf, too.”

“I do? Yes!” He yelps in excitement and a skinny arm jerks across the table. A proudly grinning Leo fist-bumps his adorable son.

I die a little at the cuteness.

As Vince shimmies in his seat, I tell Leo softly, “He’s awesome.”

Blue eyes twinkle up at me. “He is.”

“Hey, Dad! Why doesn’t this lady give us lessons?” Without waiting for a reply, he swivels toward me. “He keeps saying he’s going to get us lessons but then forgets. He’s rich, too. He’ll pay you.”

How many feelings can you feel at the same time? A goddamn landfill’s worth, that’s how many. Shock at the proposal. Excitement at the idea of spending time with them. Arousal—Leo Chastain shirtless and wet and in daylight? Yes, please. Embarrassment, too, because Vince clearly thinks I’m a broke waitress and could use the money. Which is sadly true.

And shame. Shame that even for the briefest of moments, I forgot that Leo was once my therapist. That he saw me at my worst and knows every dark, twisted corner of my heart and soul.

I’m in hell.

“We can talk about it later, Vince,” offers Leo, handing his son a menu. “Let’s get some food. I told your mom I’d have you home by four.”

Vince shrugs, attention diverted to his stomach.

“Thank you, Amelia,” murmurs Leo. “Could we have an iced tea and a lemonade, please?”

“Sure, absolutely.” I nod enough times I feel like a lunatic and finally escape to the kitchen.