in and save you if you fall in and get pulled down by the riptide, Princess,” she heard a deep and infuriatingly familiar voice say from behind her. “I have no intention of ruining a perfectly good suit because you can’t hold your liquor.”
Grace swiveled in shock at the sudden intrusion and almost toppled over. Clenching her toes into the sand for balance, she moved up the bank to where Cameron Jakowski stood about ten feet away.
She scowled and fought a guilty look at the glass and bottle clutched between her fingers. She absolutely would not rise to his Princess jibe.
“What do you want, Hot Tub?”
She saw his smile in the moonlight, knew instinctively that his velvet brown eyes would light up, ready for battle with her. They had always called one another names—always worked out new ways to needle each other. Hot Tub, Princess—silly names meant to antagonize.
“Just making sure you don’t drown.”
Grace shrugged her bare shoulders. “I didn’t realize you cared.”
He came closer. “It’s a wedding. I doubt Evie and Scott would want their celebration ruined by your carelessness.”
Grace’s temper simmered. “I’m not acting the least bit careless,” she said through clenched teeth. “And I’m perfectly sober.”
He looked at the bottle. “Prove it,” he challenged. “Walk a straight line.”
Grace bit back a scowl. “I’ll do no such thing. You’re not on duty now.”
He chuckled and Grace forced herself to not think about how sexy it sounded. Okay—so he had a great smile and a handsome face and filled out his police officer’s uniform as faultlessly as he did the suit he wore. She’d have to be comatose not to notice.
“So, why are you hiding out here anyway?”
Grace moved up the sand. “Who says I’m hiding?”
Cameron hooked a thumb over one shoulder. “The party’s that way.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I’m not in the mood for a party.”
“Nothing’s that simple with you.”
Grace bristled. “Leave me alone. I don’t want to argue with you.”
Cameron stepped closer. “Now I know there’s definitely something wrong with you. What’s eating you tonight?”
“Nothing,” she lied. “I’m my usual happy self.”
“And now you’re lying your shoes off.”
Grace tugged at the hem off her dress and exposed her feet. “I’m not wearing shoes,” she announced, holding herself upright despite a sudden surge of wooziness.
Of course, he knew that. He was a groomsman and she’d been partnered with him most of the afternoon. He’d already smirked when he’d spotted her bare feet and purple-painted toenails as she’d taken his arm to walk toward the altar.
Because Grace Preston didn’t bare anything in public.
And Cameron knew that.
She glared at him some more. “I don’t know why the men got to keep their shoes on. Anyway, I’ll probably step on a stonefish and that will be the end of me.”
Cameron laughed. “So much drama over a pair of missing shoes. Come on, I’ll walk you back.”
Grace shook her head. “No, thanks—I’ll stay here. I’ve had about all the marital bliss I can stand for one evening.”
He was close now and Grace could see the curious expression on his face. “Are you jealous Evie’s married?”
Was she? It seemed like everyone was getting married lately and getting their happily-ever-after. First her brother, Noah, had married Callie Jones and now, less than eight months later, Evie was tying the knot with Scott, Callie’s younger brother. But no, she wasn’t the marrying type.
“Certainly not,” she replied quickly and took another sip of her champagne. “I’m very happy for my sister. I just meant…” She stopped. There was no way she would explain anything to Cameron Jakowski. “Nothing. Leave me alone.”
He moved toward her again, only this time she didn’t step back. Toe-to-toe, he stood close to eight inches taller than her and without shoes it was impossible for Grace to stare him down without tilting her head up.
“And what if you go back into the water and get swept away by the current?” he inquired. “I don’t want that on my conscience. I’m staying.”
Grace shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said as she moved up the bank some more and headed toward a small cluster of rocks. She sat on the largest one and refilled her glass. “Want a shot?” she asked, holding out the bottle.
Cameron followed her steps and took the bottle. “I reckon you’ve had about enough of that.” He dropped it onto the sand.
Grace watched the champagne seep away. “You’re ruining my evening.”
“Your evening looked well and truly ruined before you wandered off down here.”
She frowned. “Are you spying on me?”
Cameron laughed. “Hardly—but you did bail on our dance.”
“I didn’t want to dance,” she told him flatly. “With you or anyone else,” she added.
Being partnered with Cameron for the entire celebration had been more than she could stand. Not only because she wasn’t in any mood to combat his sarcasm or insults, but because the happy smiles and animated chatter of the wedding party had felt like a cloistering blanket around her shoulders. Since the accident she’d become less adept at handling crowds. Less inclined to make pointless conversation.
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to open up a bit.”
Grace almost choked on her champagne. Was he reading her mind? “To you? You’re joking, right?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because you’re you.” She shook her head. “And you and I are like…oil and water.”
He stepped closer and thrust his hands in his pockets. “It’s a double-edged sword,” he said quietly.
Grace stared into her glass. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.”
“Sure you do,” he flipped back. “Admit it, Princess— fighting with me gets you all worked up.”
Grace wasn’t admitting anything. “You’re imagining things. Not everything’s about you. And stop calling me Princess.”
“Stop calling me Hot Tub.”
Gridlock.
As
