Page 19 of Off Plan

I snickered. “Think last millennium, Loafers. You ever hear of Lovey Bricknell? She owned one. Or maybe she still owns it? Not sure if she’s still alive or whatever.”

Loafers’ jaw dropped.

“TheLovey Bricknell? The movie star from the fifties? The one who starred inRose Colored DreamsandMy Baby’s Coming Home? She’s definitely alive!” He leaned over the console and stared out the driver’s window like he thought he might catch a glimpse of her.

“Hey! Easy, tiger. I’m not crashing my car while you fanboy over an eighty-year-old who hasn’t set foot on the island in decades.” I set a hand on his chest and pushed him back to his side of the console, wishing I couldn’t feel the heat of his body through his shirt and that his expensive cologne didn’t make my stomach clench.

Attraction was a bitch.

“Oh,wow. My best friend Toby’s a huge fan, and he forced me to watch them all back in coll—” Loafers’ gaze swung out the passenger’s side, and he grabbed at my arm. “Holy shit, stop the car!”

“What? No. Why?” There wasn’t another soul nearby and nothing out of place.

“The water!” Loafers looked up at me, all pleading and wide-eyed. “It’s soblueover there!”

“Uh, yeah.” I glanced out the window and tried to pretend I couldn’t feel all five points where his skin hit mine. “That’s ’cause it’s deeper over there. It’s water, Loafers. That’s what it does.”

“Please,” he begged. “Stop so I can take a picture?” And Jesus Christ, I was the weakest person on the fucking planet, but I rationalized that the guy had a nice ass and he’d given me an ice pack, and I’d done a lot more for a lot less reason, so I stopped.

Loafers opened the door but only took one giant step toward the beach before he looked down at his shoes and frowned, like he’d only then realized the utter incompatibility of loafers and Whispering Key Beach.

There was a metaphor there, if the poor sap could only see it.

But Loafers just stood there, sucking in salt air like it was fine wine and enjoying the view like it had been made just for him while the wind caressed his hair.

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. “I’maginghere, Lo—”

“Oh my God! Look! A dolphin! A fuckingdolphin!”He pointed at the water and crowed like he’d summoned the creature himself. He fumbled his cell phone from his pocket. “They don’t havethoseback in New York.”

He gave the camera a big cheesy grin that sparkled brighter than the water, and my unwelcome attraction turned to lust that sizzled up my spine.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was my cue to get this show on the road. Playing tourist had been cute and all, but the sooner Loafers got a reality check and gotgone,the better for my peace of mind.

“Get back in the car.”

“Yeah, hang on. I’m just posting this.”

“Now, Loafers.”

“Coming. Is marine life one word or two?”

“What?”

“Like, wildlife is one word, so I’m… never mind. Found it.”

“Loafers.Now.”

“I hear you. I’m coming.” He didn’t move a muscle except for his thumbs, and he mumbled something that sounded like, “Hashtag-adventure, hashtag-new-home, hashtag-Whispering-Key…” He frowned at me through the open window. “Hey, did you know Whispering Key doesn’t have a hashtag? Like…” He shook his head. “How’s that even possible?”

Of all the things Whispering Key didn’t have, a hashtag was the thing I cared about least.

“I told you I’ve got shit to do, so get your ass in the car in the next three seconds, or you’re walking the next six miles to the Five Star. And I will throw your suitcases full of fancy shoes into the Gulf.”

“Chill out.” Loafers got back in the car and slammed the door. “I don’t know how you became so jaded to that view. And the way the breeze glides over you? It’smagic.Wanna see?”

He held his phone over the console, showing me his selfie. The water was frothy white and turquoise, and Loafers looked windblown and carefree.

“That thing in the water is a clump of seaweed, not a hashtag-dolphin.” I pushed his hand away. “There’s your magic.”