"Okay." She drags her fingers down my back. "You feel good against my hands."
I let my voice drop an octave. "Yeah?"
"That too. Later." She presses her palm against my lower back. "Turn around. I'll get your chest."
I do. "I'll return the favor."
Her lips press into a smile. "I'm already covered."
"Cruel."
She laughs as she spreads sunscreen over my pecs. "I do what I can." Her eyes stay on her work. She's thorough. Methodical. She finishes one area and checks it over before moving on to the next.
Her brow furrows. Her lips turn down.
She's still upset.
It can't all be Dean.
But what the hell is it?
She looks up at me. "Done."
"I'll have to make it up to you somehow."
Her blush is slight. "You will." She moves closer.
I slide my arm around her waist. Press my palm into her lower back. "Come here."
She rises to her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine.
My other hand goes to her hair. I hold her head against mine as I slide my tongue into her mouth.
Her fingers curl into my skin.
She jumps backward as a honking horn cuts through the air.
That's Brendon's car parked on the other side of the street. He's standing in front of the driver's seat shaking his head. Dean's leaning over the center console, his hand on the steering wheel, his eyes on me and Iris.
Fucking asshole.
Usually, I don't mind Dean's antics. They're pretty entertaining. But right now, I don't have energy for this shit. I'm spending all of it keeping Sabrina out of my thoughts.
Iris pulls her arms over her chest. Taps the sunscreen against her hip.
Brendon shoots me a what's wrong with him look.
I shrug. Hell if I know.
Dean steps out of the car. "Didn't realize we were heading to the gun show." He pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it on the passenger seat.
"Your sweat isn't stinking up my car," Brendon says.
"There's no sweat. I just put it on." He motions to the garment. "Smell it."
"No thanks." Brendon moves around the car to push the passenger door closed. He clicks the electronic lock. "You two ready?"
"Yeah." I slide my arm around Iris's waist. Fuck, I'm being an obnoxious caveman about protecting my woman and she isn't even mine.
She leans in a little closer. "You look good, Dean." She unpeels her arms from her chest and offers him her sunscreen. "You need some of this?"
"Yeah. Sure. Toss it over," he says.
She does. It lands three feet to his left.
Iris laughs. "Sorry. No hand-eye coordination."
"It's cool." He bends to pick it up. Undoes the cap. Squeezes it into his hand. "Fuck knows there's shit I'm not good at."
"A long list," Brendon agrees.
Dean moves onto the trail, spreading sunscreen as he walks. He's making a show of it. It's the kind of thing he does when women are around. Look at my bod.
But he knows Iris and I have an arrangement.
It must be a habit.
It better be a habit.
"It's fucking hot." Dean tosses the sunscreen back to Iris.
I step forward to catch it.
"Thanks." She slides it into her backpack. "Is it always this hot in the spring?"
"You're not from SoCal?" he asks.
"The valley. You pretty much always feel like you're standing under a heat lamp." She moves closer. "Who was the girl in the cardigan?"
"Brendon's girlfriend," Dean says. "She had to work. Too bad. We're all one big, happy family."
"Right." Brendon shakes his head what the hell is wrong with you?
I ignore it. Take Iris's hand. Focus on the scenery.
It's always beautiful here. Lemon sun. Bright blue sky. Sandy beige path surrounded by dusty green brush. The hills go forever.
Brendon moves ahead of us. He's not interested in our bullshit.
He never is.
Dean follows his lead. Picks up the pace.
I hang back with Iris. There's only a dozen feet between us, but it's intentional. It's a fuck you.
"He has to give Brendon shit about Kay." Okay, he's being an asshole. But that's not her problem.
"Hmm."
I rub her hand with my thumb. "It was a whole fucked-up thing."
"Yeah?" Her voice perks.
"You like gossip?"
"Who doesn't?"
I lean in to whisper and I explain the whole sordid story.
She nods and uh-huhs through every detail.
When I'm done, we're a hundred feet behind. Brendon and Dean are standing at the top of a hill. Brendon is looking out at the view. Dean is shaking his head too slow, huh?
"I guess we can't walk and whisper." She tugs at my arm as she moves faster.
I keep pace with her. This is a slow hike. More of a stroll. Usually, that annoys me. Usually, Dean and I get competitive about who can finish faster.
Right now, I like it.
I want to stop and smell the roses. Well, the ocean breeze and the brush.
Iris squeezes my hand as we catch up to the guys.
"Trading secrets?" Dean asks.
"Nothing big." Iris forces her lips into a smile.
"Uh-huh," Dean says.
"She, um, your girlfriend. She seemed nice." She turns to Brendon. "Does she work at the shop too?"
He shakes his head. "She hangs out sometimes." He motions to the trail shall we?
I nod and we resume the hike at an easy pace.
"Do you guys ever bring girls to the shop?" Iris asks.
"No." Brendon chuckles. "They stick to their bedrooms."
"Jealous?" Dean raises a brow.
"Yeah. I'd much rather fuck some woman I'm not gonna remember than one I love," Brendon says. "I'm seething."
"A lot of guys feel that way." Iris pulls her hand to her side. Moves forward. "Dean, you must."
"That an invitation?" He turns back to her to arch a brow. "Sorry, but I don't do threesomes anymore."
"Oh. You did once?" She tilts her head to one side, assessing his words.
"Had a phase." Dean turns back. "It's pretty simple. It's more fun to play the field. Easier."
She nods. "Yeah. I like it better too."
"Oh." His voice relaxes. "You and Walker aren't—"
"We're just having fun." She looks to me and arches a brow. Right?
I nod. Yeah. Of course. Fun. No getting hung up on the sadness behind her gorgeous blue eyes. Or what the hell she's really trying to get over. Or what her tattoo means.
She catches up to Dean. Walks in time with him. "Do you have a type?"
Brendon chuckles. "Anything with spread legs."
"Hey." He feigns offense. "Any woman with spread legs." He points to me. "Your boy isn't much more discriminating."
Iris makes eye contact. Really?
I shrug. "I enjoy women. That a crime?"
"Pretty sure a heartbeat is all either of them need," Brendon says.