I nod. “Yep. Only ever left Kentucky when I’d fly to Washington to see my father. I had no idea Texas was this hot. I’m not sure I like it.”

Marcos laughs.

The waiter shows up with the appetizers Sara ordered. He takes my glass to get me a refill and Samson reaches for a piece of calamari, popping it into his mouth. “You ever tasted calamari, Beyah?”

I take a piece from him. “Nope.”

Marcos rolls his head. “It’s like you were raised on a different planet.”

Sara doesn’t wait for me to start eating this time. She makes herself a plate of appetizers and begins eating. This small moment may not seem like a big deal to anyone at the table, but I’m relieved to know Sara isn’t putting as much pressure on herself as she was the night I showed up.

Sara starts asking me questions about what else I’ve never tried, and the conversation moves from being only about Samson to being unrelated to Samson.

After a few minutes, Samson reaches under the table and grabs my hand. He gives it a squeeze before releasing it. When I look at him, he’s saying a silent thank you.

I barely know the guy, but I can somehow communicate better with him by not using words than I’ve ever been able to communicate verbally with anyone else.

He gives me one look and it’s proof that I don’t need to know more. Not right now, anyway.

I’ll peel his layers back on his time.

SIXTEEN

There weren’t two seats next to each other when we made it to our nightly bonfire, so Samson is sitting across from me.

Sadly, Beau is in the one next to me.

I’ve noticed Samson eyeing Beau every time he speaks to me. I’m trying to make it very clear that I’m not interested, but Beau isn’t taking the hint. Guys like him never do. They’re used to getting what they want, so they can’t recognize when what they want doesn’t want them. It’s an unfathomable thought to Beau, I’m sure.

“Oh, God,” Sara mutters.

I glance at her and she points a hand at the dune crossing about fifty feet from our site.

Cadence is walking over the dune.

“I thought she left,” I say.

“I thought so, too,” Sara says.

I watch with a knot in my stomach as Cadence approaches us. Samson’s back is to her so he doesn’t know she’s walking up.

When she reaches him, she wraps her hands around Samson’s head and covers his eyes. He pulls her hands away and leans his head back, looking up at her.

Before he can even react, she says, “Surprise!” Then she leans down and kisses him on the mouth. “We came back for another week.”

The blood in my body feels like it just turned to lava.

Samson’s eyes immediately find mine when she pulls away. I’m not displaying the jealousy on my face, but it sure is running through my body.

Samson stands up and turns to Cadence. I can’t hear what he says to her, but he glances at me for a split second before he puts his hand on Cadence’s lower back and points at the water. They start walking in that direction and all I can do is look down at my lap.

I hope he’s walking away from all of us so he can let her down gently. Or ungently, I don’t care.

Not that he owes me anything. I’m the one who stopped the kiss last night.

“You okay?” Sara asks, noticing the change in my demeanor.

I blow out a steady breath. “What are they doing?”

“Who? Cadence and Samson?”

I nod.

“Walking,” she says. She narrows her eyes at me in suspicion. “What’s up with the two of you?”

I shake my head. “Nothing is up.”

Sara leans back in her chair. “I know you’re private about a lot of things, Beyah. I can deal with that, but if Samson kisses you this summer, will you please just give me a sign? You don’t even have to say it out loud. Just high-five me or something.”

I assure her with a nod, then glance over at Samson and Cadence. They’re standing at least two feet apart. Her arms are folded tightly over her chest. She looks angry.

I train my gaze back on the fire, but a few seconds later, there’s a collective gasp.

“Holy shit,” Marcos says, laughing. I look at him, but he’s looking at Samson, who is now walking back to the fire. He’s alone, rubbing his cheek.

“She slapped him,” Sara whispers. When Samson reaches his seat, she says, “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing she wanted to hear.”

“Did you just turn her down?” Beau asks. “Why the fuck would you do that? She’s hot.”

Samson looks at Beau with a deadpan expression. He waves in the direction Cadence just stomped away in. “She’s fair game, Beau. Shoot your shot.”

Beau shakes his head. “Nah, I’m only interested in this shot right here,” he says, indicating a hand toward me.

“Not gonna happen, Beau,” I say.

Beau grins at me, and I have no idea how my flat-out refusal of him makes him think I mean anything other than the words I’m speaking to him. He stands up and grabs my hand. He tries to pull me up, but I don’t budge.

“Come swimming with me,” he says.

I shake my head. “I’ve told you no twice already.”

He tries to pick me up, but I kick him in the knee just as Samson jumps out of his seat and stalks over to us. He stands between us, facing Beau. “She said no.”

Beau looks at Samson, and then around him, at me. He flicks a finger between us. “Oh. I get it. You two are a thing now.”

“It has nothing to do with me,” Samson says. “I’ve listened to her ask you to leave her alone several times. Take a fucking hint.”

Samson is angry. I don’t know if it’s stemming from jealousy or the simple fact that Beau is an asshole.

I expect that to be the end of it, but Beau apparently doesn’t like being yelled at. He swings at Samson, hitting him in the face. Then Beau puts up both fists like he’s ready for a fight, but Samson brings a hand up to his jaw and stares hard at Beau. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking serious,” Beau responds, still in his fighting stance.

Marcos is standing now, ready to defend Samson, but Samson doesn’t look like he cares to entertain Beau.

“Go home, Beau,” Marcos says, stepping between Beau and Samson.

Beau looks at Marcos. “How do you say asshole in Mexican?”

The only thing I hate more than a douche is a racist douche. “It’s Spanish, not Mexican,” I say. “And I think Beau is the correct translation for asshole.”

Samson lets out a small laugh when I say that. It pisses Beau off.

“Fuck you, you little rich prick. All of you can go to hell.” Beau’s face is red with rage.

“We’re in hell every time you show up,” Sara says flatly.

Beau points at Sara. “Fuck you.” He points at me. “And fuck you.”

I guess that’s where Samson draws the line. He doesn’t hit Beau, but he moves toward him fast enough to make Beau jump back. Then Beau spins around and grabs his stuff from his chair and leaves.

It’s a beautiful sight.

Samson falls into the chair, gripping his jaw. “I’ve been slapped by a girl and punched by two guys since you showed up.”