“I don’t think that’s pathetic,” Brady said, pulling himself out of the past. “It’s a little awkward, but it took guts. A lot more than most people I know have. Drunk or not.” He grinned. “Plus, if you hadn’t gone viral, would you be right here, right now, enjoying the sun and water with me?”

Brady used his arm to help him lean in a little. He wiggled his eyebrows again, teasing her. Sloane’s dark eyes widened, but she didn’t move.

“No, I guess not.” Her voice went soft. Almost like a whisper, but not something she’d done on purpose. Maybe a reflex instead.

Just as his reflex to hearing the sultry change was to lean in just a bit closer.

“Now that would be a shame,” he said, lowering his own voice. He dropped his gaze to her lips. They parted, but no words came out. All thoughts of plans, good or bad, fell away. “You know, as your date, I think it would be strange not to kiss you.”

Once again, Sloane De Carlo went for another round of surprising him. She nodded.

“I agree.”

That’s all Brady needed.

He cupped the side of her face and pulled his lips to hers. They were sticky and sweet. Smelling of coconut and warmth. It was a combination that begged him to try for more.

Brady tilted Sloane’s head back a little to get a better angle. She made a noise of surprise as he paired the move with a flick of his tongue along her lips. She didn’t rebuff him, though. No. She reciprocated in kind until their simple kiss started to evolve into something else.

Something more.

Something that had nothing to do with faking it or spiders in the garage.

Sloane dropped her hand down to the brim of his swimming trunks and used it to try and pull him closer. He obliged, not for a second breaking their kiss.

Her body felt so good against his.

It made him want more, and by the way Sloane’s hand started to slip beneath his trunks, she definitely wanted it, too.

But where there was even a hint of a good time, there was Carol Robertson to ruin it.

“Hey, lovebirds,” she called, pausing in her walk with Ruby not more than a few feet from them. “We’re about to leave, so maybe don’t start something you can’t finish!”

Sloane broke the kiss, eyes hooded and lips dark. She was already politely smiling. “Okay! Sounds good!”

Sloane’s face was the color of a fire truck. Slowly, she slid her hand up and out of his trunks. She met his gaze. If they didn’t have an audience, Brady knew exactly what he’d start next. And what he’d finish, too.

As it were, he watched as Sloane tried to regain her composure. When she spoke, her voice was breathy again.

“Good plan.”