“You have to admit, it’s interesting the way we keep running into each other lately.”
Rian adjusts her shirt, which has slipped off her shoulder, and fiddles with the end of her hair. “And every single one of those interactions has been embarrassing for me.”
“I would say entertaining rather than embarrassing. Now, why don’t we start fresh, and this time I’ll try not to come off as a complete asshole, and we can pretend I haven’t asked you out and you haven’t said no half a dozen times, or accused me of trying to blackmail you into having sex with me.” I grin as I hold out my hand. “I’m Pierce.”
Rian bites her bottom lip, fighting her own smile. She slips her palm into mine. It’s warm and soft, but her grip is firm. “Hi, I’m Rian with an i instead of a y.”
“Hi, Rian with an i, why don’t I take you on a tour of the house?”
She chuckles and ducks her head. Her hand is still clasped in mine. Maybe my sister is right—maybe I’m not alone in my appreciation of this woman and her sassy, give-no-fucks attitude. I already know she likes what she sees, the mow her lawn comment is proof of that.
I open the door and motion her inside. “When do you expect Gel and Lauren to arrive?”
“They might not be here until tomorrow. Their dog ate something he shouldn’t have; they’re waiting for the aftermath to pass before they put him in a car.”
“Oh no, that’s no good. Will Noodles be okay?” One of the prime features of this rental is that it’s pet friendly.
She glances over her shoulder, looking a little surprised. “I think so. It’s not the first time he’s done it. It’s just unfortunate it happened right before their vacation.”
“I’d hate for them to miss the weekend, especially with the weather being what it is.” I give her a tour of the kitchen, showing her where to find everything.
“The finishes in here are gorgeous. Who did all the work?”
“I did a lot of it myself.”
Rian runs her fingertips across the countertop. “Wow. That’s … impressive.”
“I’m a handy asshole.” I give her another wink, which causes her to flush again.
“Sorry about that,” she mutters.
I lean in, getting into her personal space until she takes a cautious step back. “I’m just having fun with you. You’re wound up pretty tight, aren’t you?” Stepping around her, I motion for her to follow me. “Come on, I’ll show you where the bedrooms are.”
Her sister has commandeered the master suite, which I’m sure will only last until their friends arrive.
I open the door to the second bedroom. “You’ll probably want dibs on this.”
Her arm brushes mine as she steps inside. The room is spacious and light. The pale walls and white furniture are meant to echo the light, beachy feel of the house. “Who decorated this?” She runs her hand over the comforter and looks at the ceiling. Pushing up on the balls of her feet, she stretches to touch a crystal dangling from the chandelier. “The details are incredible.”
I shove my hands in my pockets, reveling a little at the compliment. “I did, with the help of Amalie.”
“Your sister.” Her finger trails along the footboard of the bed. “She seems like fun.”
“She used to get herself into all kinds of trouble when she was a teenager.”
“Really? But she looks so sweet.”
“That’s how she managed to get away with so much.” I follow Rian through the room. “There’s a private bath through here.”
She presses her palm against my shoulder, peeking in behind me to take a look. I tense at the unexpected contact and the shot of warmth that follows.
“Sorry.” She takes a quick step back, hitting her elbow on the edge of the dresser. “Ow!” She sucks in a breath, rubbing the spot.
“Are you always this jumpy?”
And she’s immediately on the defensive, again. “No. Sometimes. Not always. Just around people.”
“All people?”
“No, just cocky, self-assured, shirtless ones.”
I chuckle and head for the door. “Why don’t I show you how to work the hot tub and the barbeque, and then I’ll leave you to it?”
“Oh. Yeah. That’d be great.”
The barbeque is pretty straightforward, as is the hot tub. Rian gets a kick out of the rules posted on the privacy deck. “Who would eat in a hot tub?”
“You’d be surprised.” I pull the cover back over. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve found in there.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Probably not. Just because I post rules, it doesn’t mean people follow them. I’ve found a lot more than leftover chicken wings in there.”
Rian makes a face. “Like condoms?”
“Among other things.”
She makes a gagging sound. “Maybe I’ll skip the hot tub while I’m here.”
“It’s cleaned between rentals.”
“Every time?”
“Every time.”
“So why bother with the rules if you know they’re going to get broken.”
“Because if they break them, and I find out, I get to keep their cleaning deposit.”
“Ah. Now it makes sense.”
“Anyway. I should finish up the lawn so you can enjoy your afternoon. I’m down the beach if you need anything.” I motion in the direction of my brother’s beach house. It’s closer to the rundown mansion at the crest of the beach.
“Right.” Her eyes dart down and then come back up. “Okay, great. Thanks.”
I turn to leave.
“Pierce?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for being so nice about this, especially after the car stuff.” She gestures to the beach house.
“Like I said, it’s just a car. And as long as you don’t throw any parties, we’ll be fine.” I leave her to settle in and get back to work.
Fifteen minutes later the two of them head down the path to the beach, towels and bags under their arms. Rian gives me a wave, rushing to keep up with her sister. They both have plastic cups with lids and straws.
I take my time on the lawn. Using the WeedWacker on the perimeter, being extra thorough since it allows me a great view of the beach and Rian. My patience is worth it. Her cover-up lasts all of two minutes.
Sweet fucking Christ. That body is something else. Her hot-pink bikini—it must be her favorite color—has ties on either hip, holding the tiny triangles of fabric together.
Where her sister is all straight lines and long limbs, Rian is lush and curvy. The two of them seem oblivious to the attention they’re drawing as they spray each other down with sunscreen.
It doesn’t take long for the volleyball players to invite them to join in. Marley doesn’t take much to convince, but Rian stays put. She stretches out on her towel, facing the beach house, and flips open a laptop. I go back to my weed whacking.
After I’m done with the lawn I don’t have any more reasons to stick around, so I grudgingly head back to my brother’s place. I find Lawson reclined in a lounger. Beside him sit Amalie Dolls in their own tiny beach chairs, wearing bathing suits and hats. A bottle of kid’s sunscreen—a product endorsement—is positioned on the small table between them. I’m sure if I check our social media feeds, there will be a series of images posted with those damn dolls, probably talking about sun safety.