Page 30 of Goldilocks

Sam blanked. But after a moment, he shook his head. “No. No, he spendshoursstaring at the paintings afterwards. He scrutinises each of them one by one, and he loves all the ones that focus on his hair, and his scales, and his hands—”

“Are those the parts you do in closer detail?”

“Yes? But, no, I mean – he’s obsessed with himself and how he looks.”

“You think so?” Connor had thisgrin. It didn’t fill Sam with the victorious feeling prying a smile from Connor’s lips had in the past; instead, Sam was filled with the urge to wipe it off his face.

“Well,tellme if you think otherwise.”

Connor tilted his head toward Laurence, who was listening to them. “What do you think Laurence? Is it vanity and self-obsession?”

“Doesn’t he just—”

Connor nudged Laurence’s elbow, making him stop. “Don’t just tell him. That’s no fun.”

Laurence stopped, mouth open, and slowly leaned over until his cheek was on Connor’s shoulder. Dark and expressive eyes fixed on Sam, but Laurence obediently stayed quiet.

“Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?” Sam glared at Connor.

“Nick does, every day,” Connor replied without missing a beat. “Shall I give you a hint?”

“No.” Sam leaned back, casting Connor a narrow-eyed look. “No, don’t. I already know.”

“You’re good at reading people, Sam, but he’s not a person.” Connor sipped his drink, and the bastard waited patiently.

“Justtellme,” Sam asked, frustrated.

“Why did he approach you?” Connor asked.

Sam had mused over that exact question many times. “Because I’m friends with you?”

“We’re friends?”

Laurence elbowed Connor, and he huffed. “I’m joking. Yes, we’re friends. What do I have to do with it, though? I wasn’t hanging out with you when Goldilocks approached. And you know that’s not it anyway.”

Sam did know. “The painting on my boat.”

“Your art,” Connor agreed. He nudged Laurence, who leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

“Sam,” Laurence said. “Doesn’t he just like your art?”

Chapter Eleven

The drizzle had stopped so Sam sat next to the steering wheel, idling away the time as Laurence, Nick, and Trevor all disembarked from the yacht onto a newly constructed wooden dock. It jutted out a considerable distance from the shore, necessary for Connor to be able to dock the yacht and not risk damage during low tide. Halfway down the dock was the boat that used to belong to Ben, Connor’s biological dad. Sam looked past the short sandy shore to their new house, nestled between thick deciduous woodland, except for the side facing the sea where soil blended into sand. Only a stone’s throw from the ocean, Sam thought the only more fitting place for Connor to live was in the yacht.

The three family members walked down the wet dock, and Connor tracked up to Sam. He was now wearing the pearl-coloured hoodie Nick had on before getting off the yacht. Sam grinned. “Trevor make you wear that?”

“Shove off,” Connor said good-naturedly. He leaned against the panel beside the steering wheel. “He told me to offer the extra bed again since it’s so late. You can’t sleep in my bed cause Adonis would pitch a fit, but Laurence could and you could have his bed for the night.”

“I’m good,” Sam said. “I’d rather have my boat in the morning…unlessyouwant to stay here?” He wouldn’t make Connor go all the way back if he was ready to crash, and he could always get a lift with one of the fishermen back to his boat in the morning.

“I promised Adonis I’d spend the night on the yacht with him, so I can lay anchor in any bay I like,” Connor said. “You want me to power up the engine, or do you have time to sail? I don’t even know what time it is.” Connor looked at the moon, as if to gauge the time from it. “Midnight?”

“I heard Trevor just tell you that.”

“I knew from the stars.”

Sam laughed. “Let’s sail.”