Page 90 of Changing Lanes

He’s not wrong. There are some things you just can’t unsee.

Still talking to Marc, he says, “just watch and learn,” then pins me with his best smolder. “You craving sausage, baby? I got a pound right here.”

His hand disappears under the table, most likely grabbing his own junk, and the table erupts in mixed reviews of groans and amused chuckles as Angela tsks “offensive” under her breath but loud enough for everyone to hear.

Coty joins the group with an extra plate full of lime wedges that he hands off to her.

I toss one of the gluten free chips we picked up on our way over—there’s at least one person at every party with an intolerance these days—but Beckett catches it with a smile on his face and pops it into his mouth. Eyes dancing with humor that’s been absent since our awkward hiccup this morning, he digs into his food without further delay only to stop short when my foot grazes his inner thigh.

“Hmm. Are you counting packaging because I’m only coming up with half a pound?”

I wink at him as the joke lands, better than both his and Marc’s combined.

Beckett shakes his head while fighting a smile but snatches my foot in his hand, refusing to let go even as I attempt to wrestle it from his grip.

A silent war between us ensues before I catch sight of a little girl over his shoulder joining the crowded dock. Her head of tight curls sticking out of the littlest ponytail I’ve ever seen bounces as she sits down at the edge, watching the older kids play around her. I glance around for an adult but come up empty. She can’t be older than five or six years old and doesn’t even have a life jacket.

The fast-moving water has a reputation for being dangerous for even the strongest of swimmers around here. Drownings have actually become a top cause of death in recent years. I can only hope she’s with an older sibling that’ll keep an eye on her.

Normal conversation picks up around me but I’m too distracted to partake. Beckett notices and glances over his shoulder to see what caught my eye just as a bikini-clad—Brazilian bikini to be exact—woman steps up, blocking his view. I say woman because she stands out among the rest of the laidback crowd here. Easily. While everyone else is dressed in outfits meant for a day at a park, she’s got breast implants practically bursting from her string top, and wedges on her feet. If I tried wearing wedges in this kind of terrain, I’d easily topple over but she floats through the barely maintained grass with a seasoned agility. While stunning, in a trying too hard kind of way, she also has a bit of a weathered look to her, like she’s spent many, many days outside under the sun. The words rode hard and put away wet come to mind before I can shake away the disturbing image attached to it.

And wouldn’t you know it, she plants herself right behind Beckett, digging her freshly painted nails into his bicep as she leans down to whisper in his ear.

With him distracted, I yank on my foot again but to no avail. If anything, he tightens his grip, making me huff out a breath of frustration.

His smile grows but it’s hard to tell if it’s at my expense or for the woman currently puffing her hot ass breath in his ear. Gag me with a salad.

Using my other foot, I kick his hand and the unexpected move gets him to finally release my imprisoned foot.

Still keeping an ear to his friend as she takes a seat beside him, Beckett shoots a frown at me but I ignore him. Everything about him. Even the way he casually shakes her hand off his arm. And the way he tells her “it’s no problem” after she thanks him for the third time for something I can’t quite make out due to my successful attempt to ignore them.

Their employee, or friend—or both maybe—Cruz, sits on my other side, stealing a strawberry off my plate. A strawberry I was planning to eat.

Beckett spots the new addition like he just found a pimple on his blemish-free face.

Seriously, what is he using for face wash? I use the same shower as him and all I’ve seen is a bottle of body wash and some kind of shampoo/conditioner mixture. Two things, that’s it. Meanwhile I use an entire regime and I still have more break-outs than him. It reminds me of the time I caught Tysen using only a bar of soap for his entire body, even his hair. He swore it worked best at getting grease off but…his scalp, too?

Catching Cruz eating my food, Beckett places his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together, resting his chin on his knuckles as he watches on unabashedly.

Really?

Cruz has been glued to my side since we arrived and even though he’s been polite, until now, I’m struggling to find anything remarkable about him. The small reprieve from my new shadow while he loaded his jet skis into the water was actually kind of nice.

I refuse to meet Beckett’s intense stare for the rest of lunch which proves to be quite difficult when that’s all he’s doing. Literally. He hasn’t eaten a single thing as he just stays in the same position, locked on what Cruz and I are doing, like if he blinks for a second Cruz might finger me under the table or something.

Give me a break.

If Cruz notices the Great Wall of Beckett, he doesn’t let on as he keeps up a steady stream of one-sided conversation while I continue stealing glances at the little girl on the dock. I just do it around Beckett’s big head and even bigger attitude problem. Luckily she has yet to move from her spot.

Full of enough small talk to last me the next decade, I take a walk beside the rocky shoreline after I finish eating.

“So, how does it work living with two dudes?” Cruz asks, falling into step beside me.

“What part?”

“Dating.”

“It just does, I guess.” I shrug my shoulders and follow Cruz closer to the water’s edge, listening in on the rambunctious kids splashing around.