I shrug. “I will never be angry when a hot latte is placed in my hand, and I have two.”

The corner of his mouth tips up and my shoulders ease a bit.

“Listen—” I begin, but then he’s pulling off his shirt, his tight body commanding my eyes to take inventory of each and every inch.

Ransom’s body is something to be admired. His skin shines like the finest of silks, glowing a deep gold, and he’s toned at every inch. The cuts of his abs are natural and deep. He’s not burly by any means, rather tapered to precision, as are the sharp cuts of his hip bones pitted perfectly, inviting on their very own. I follow the length of the lines, and only then do I notice he’s wearing swim trunks.

They all are, and at some point, the other two managed to discard their tops, too, both having already dropped in the chairs to my right, hot drinks at their lips.

Ransom claims the one at my left.

“You were saying?” He raises a brow.

A laugh sputters from me, and I push my glasses back down. “Yeah, yeah. Sun, swimming, and seriously delicious coffee it is, but only for a few hours. I’m busy this afternoon.”

“Right, ‘the man.’”

I point a brassy smile to Beretta.

Honestly, I’m surprised he remembered the day he eavesdropped on mine and my parents’ conversation.

“Man?” Ransom pushes.

“Oh, you mean he didn’t report back to you with every little detail from that day?” I joke, and Beretta chuckles. “Interesting.”

Ransom’s glare grows deeper and I laugh.

“I’m working on the next phase of spoiled rich girl, that’s all,” I mock myself before he can.

“And deeper into the pit she goes.”

“I was born in the pit, Ransom. It’s all about navigation.”

“And you’ve got all the direction you need, huh?”

I give a simple shrug. “Some people go to college after high school, others go to the altar.”

He looks my way, so I push my glasses up on my head.

After a short stare-off, in which his face remains blank, he scoffs, sips his drink and sits back, so I do the same, refusing to dwell on his little trip inside my head last night.

It’s a new day, yesterday forgotten, so for the next couple hours, we simply hang out.

No one whines for fresh-squeezed orange juice to complete their mimosas, complains the water is too cold, or throws a fit over their hair getting wet. There’s no hint of coconut oil in the air and no photo sessions.

It’s pretty damn nice.

Right as I think it, a splash of water blurs my vision.