Page 69 of Off Plan

It was all I could do not to answer the same happy-puppy way Beale had, tongue hanging out of my mouth and all.

“Loafers, we can’t seem to help it,” I said wryly.

Mason’s smile turned rueful, and he shook his head as he walked away, clearly taking it as a joke, but as he disappeared around the side of the building, I was uncomfortably sure I’d spoken nothing less than the truth.

Saturdays on the boat were the ultimate distraction—the water was packed with boats, the boats were packed with tourists, and there were a thousand and one tiny tasks that required my attention, even during the parts of the tour I wasn’t narrating. Nothing like salt air, sunshine, and hard work to keep my mind off… anything I’d rather not think about. Right?

Yeah, not so much.

“Let me tell you a story about theEsmerelda,” I’d said into my microphone as we rounded the southern end of Whispering Key—an action I performed literally six times a week—butthistime, I’d remembered Mason’s excited face when he thought he was the first guy to wonder if Resolute Goodman had hidden his half of the treasure near the rocks.

After the tour was over, a lady in a pink visor and sensible shoes had passed me a folded-up twenty, patted my hand as she disembarked, and said, “You have a gift for storytelling, young man. And such youthful enthusiasm!” and I fought the sudden urge to text Loafers that I wasyouthfully enthusiastic, notchildlikeorridiculous, just because I knew he’d roll his eyes at me.

“Do you do private parties?” a middle-aged man in a cute polo shirt and boat shoes had asked, handing me a business card, and I’d smiled hard and triednotto think about when and how I’d begun finding polo shirts cute.

The wind kicked up and caught the flag above the cockpit, twisting it around the pole, and I’d pictured wavy brown hair blowing around laughing green eyes.

In short, I. Was.Sprung.

It was horrible. And I didn’t know how to stop it, or even if I wanted to.

“Yo, Fenn.” An enormous hand waved in front of my face, and I jumped away from the clear plastic I’d been tying down over the open window, instinctively sinking into a fighter’s stance.

“Jesus Christ, Beale! Don’t fucking sneak up on a person!”

“Sneak up? I’ve called your name sixty-seven times.”

I shook my head and stretched my neck from one side to the other.

“Dad called your name twice, too,” Beale continued smugly. “But I think he just assumed you were ignoring him, ’cause he muttered something under his breath and left.”

I looked around. “Left. But didn’t he—”

“We finished locking everything down at least ten minutes ago.” Beale smirked. “While you stood here in your own little world, thinking about… what, exactly?”

“I wasn’t… I didn’t sleep well last night,” I told him honestly. “I’m zoned out because I’m tired.”

“Gotcha.” Beale knocked me out of the way, took the plastic from my fingers, and deftly finished my task. “So, what were you and Mason chatting about this morning?”

“Chatting?” I snorted. “We weren’tchatting. He came out of his door the same minute I was walking past it. Coincidence.”

“Ah.”

“What’s that mean?”

Beale shrugged his enormous shoulders and shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. “I thought he was asnob, that’s all. Or, no,prissy, wasn’t that the word? Aura as brown as his shoes? Thought you were a serial killer?Loafers?”

I brushed my hair out of my eyes. “Your dad told me to be nice to him.”

“Oh!” Beale nodded vigorously. “Of course! Of course. Silly me. You’re always so great about backing Dad’s plays. Obviously you’re being friendly with the doctor because Dad told you to! Because you’re a team player.”

I cleared my throat. “Yep. So, where’d your dad disappear to, anyway? Gosh, I feel like we spend hardly any time together.”

“Your changed attitude toward Mason is most definitely not because he’s got a tight body,” Beale persisted. “Or pretty eyes. Or because he’s so smart. Or because he doesn’t take your shit, and you find that irresistible. Those things are just incidental.”

“Mmmm. Smells like lunch.” I patted my stomach. “Wonder what Lety’s got cooking?”

“And this attitude change has nothing whatsoever to do with you spending the evening at the rocks last night, drinking.”