“I don’t mind,” he says. “Since I can’t drive you back, this is the next best thing.”
“Do you even have a car?”
He chuckles. It’s low and deep. “I do—it’s on the mainland. Parked in a lot near the port where the ferry stops. We go there often, since there aren’t a lot of options for food and clothes on the island.”
“It feels so secluded here, like another world,” I tell him, keeping my eyes on the darkened path we’re on.
“It’s definitely unique.”
“It’s also really dark out here,” I say, a little tiny chill creeping up my spine. There are hardly any lamps along this path. Anything could jump out at any moment.
He bumps me with his elbow, and I look over to catch a smile on his face, even in the limited lighting. “You scared, Presley James?”
“No, Briggsy,” I say, my tone mocking.
“Ah, you remembered,” he says.
“I filed it under things to keep forever,” I say, tapping the side of my head.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about the dark, because we’re not really known for crime around here. Or gator attacks.”
“But . . . there are gators?” I ask, moving slightly closer to Briggs. Not because I think he can save me, but because he is much more muscly than I am and would probably be a better meal.
He chuckles again, and I swear the sound is like a warm blanket. I also love how easy it is for Briggs to laugh. I feel like most of the men I’ve spent time with don’t get my humor, or they just don’t really laugh. I think Declan Stone was born without a humor gene. The man is so full of himself.
Briggs and I are silent now, our feet padding along the walkway, with the sounds of the bicycle wheels and the waves breaking against the shore as our background soundtrack.
“Thanks for tonight,” I finally say. “I had a summer barbecue and jumped on a trampoline. Look at me.”
“You’re a summer gal already,” he says.
“I do feel like a summer gal,” I say, lifting my chin.
“How have you never jumped on a trampoline?”
“Neither of my parents had one, and then there were contracts forbidding it so I didn’t get hurt.”
“I’d never thought of that.”
“I haven’t done a lot of things because of contracts,” I say.
“So I’m guessing you don’t do your own stunts?”
I snort out a laugh. “No way. I mean, I’d love to fall off something onto one of those big, huge, stunt airbags they use. But alas, they’ve never let me do it.”
“Hmm,” Briggs says. “That does sound like fun.”
“Got one of those around here?”
“Sadly, no. It’s a very small island.”
I chortle. “So, what’s next on the list and when can we do it?”
“I have to work for a little bit tomorrow, but I have an idea for the afternoon. Should we say around two?”
I reach up, putting an index finger to my chin. “I better consult my schedule first. I’m very busy, you know.”
“Yeah, right, of course. How silly of me to assume you had nothing to do when you keep telling me you have nothing to do.”
It’s my turn to laugh. Bantering with Briggs might be my new favorite thing.
“What are we doing tomorrow?” I ask.
“It’s a surprise, remember?”
“I don’t know why I told you I love surprises the other day. I actually don’t . . . love them.”
“You shouldn’t have told me that. It only makes me want to do it more,” he says. “Just be sure to wear a bathing suit.”
“Something on the beach, then? Wherever will we go to find one around here?”
We both look over as a large wave crashes against the shore, the moon hanging just above it.
Briggs looks to me. “That’s a good question. We’ll just have to make do.”
I feel so light right now, walking toward the resort with Briggs. Lighter than I have in a long time. Like I could float away right now, not feeling that heavy weight I’ve been carrying around for so long, even before that stupid video.
And I think it might all be because of the man walking next to me.
