Page 39 of Prime Time Romance

“So glad you guys made it back. It was wild.” He nods at the blue boat tied up to the dock at a weird angle. “We started to take on water as soon as we left the beach. It was a slow leak, but we didn’t want to chance it and thought it was safer to get back to the marina quickly. My guess is the damage happened with our little accident earlier.”

My stomach sinks, and my eyes accidentally find Josh’s as he steps from the swan to the dock. I half expect him to give me an I told you so look, or at the very least a shake of the head to remind me that not only did my boat rage cause the issue, but that I also blamed Luce.

But all he does is nod, as if agreeing with Spencer’s assessment. “Glad you guys are all right.”

I look around the empty marina, which appears dark and closed up for the night. “Where is Luce?”

Spencer points to something out at sea. “She thought a storm might be blowing in and wanted to check on her animals. Her horse, Westley, gets spooked if there’s thunder. But I wanted to wait for you to get back. I was thinking we could walk home together, since we’re neighbors.” He glances at Josh. “Unless you have other plans.”

My blood rushes with that heightened buzz I haven’t felt in years. “Plans? Why would I have—”

Josh.

“Why don’t you two go ahead?” Josh answers, as if sensing my dilemma. “I’m going to head back. I could use a solid night’s sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

Josh holds my gaze. “All good. I’m gonna take off. I’m really anxious to get home.”

The double meaning isn’t missed. He’s not just helping me here. He’s helping us.

We watch as Josh heads through the parking lot to the road that leads into town. He’s a tiny dot in the distance when Spencer holds his arm out with a “Shall we?”

I take it, loving the fact that we’re finally alone as we start off on a slow stroll down the dock and past the marina to the road.

Unlike the pristine pavement of Main Street, this road is made of rustic gravel. The streetlamps are spaced too far apart, leaving unlit gaps in between. We hit a patch of darkness, and my foot slips into a sizable divot, twisting my ankle and lurching me forward. But just before I hit the road, two strong hands grab hold of me.

“Whoa. Whoa.” Spencer lifts me back onto my feet. “I almost lost you there.”

The streetlamp hits his eyes at an angle that makes them sparkle, and I catch the faintest whiff of cedar forest.

“I wouldn’t want that to happen again. I’ve really missed you, Sloan.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and his hand lingers on my cheek.

“I’ve really missed you too, Spencer.”

I’m not even playing the part now. I have missed him and the way I feel right now. Comfortable in these familiar surroundings. Safe.

His finger traces the hem of my sweatshirt. “I meant to tell you earlier; you looked so pretty in that dress.”

I look down at my sweatshirt.

No.

Not my sweatshirt.

Josh’s.

I want to be her. That sweet, agreeable girl that Spencer and the rest of this town adores.

My fingertips find the hem and pull. As the sweatshirt slips over my head, I realize it wasn’t Spencer who smelled like the forest at all.

It was the sweatshirt.

“Ah.” Spencer takes it from my hands. “There’s my girl.”

He reaches for my hand.

I expect warm fingers, a zing, or a tingle. What I get is a palm, cold and clammy. And as we walk on, the feeling travels up my arm and down my chest until it settles in my core.