“Ooh. Nice.” She picks one up and smells it, then looks around. “Where’s Gray?”

“Out on the front porch.”

Her lips quirk. “Why? Worried about being too close to a bed?”

I don’t deign that with a response, just a look. Although that is kind of what I’m worried about.

Sloane laughs. “Go, Evie. I’ll put these in water.”

I sigh and step down from the stool I was using to go through the cabinets. “Okay. Thanks.”

When I open the door for a second time, Gray is standing right where I left him. He’s silent as I step outside and as we walk toward his Jeep, parked along the curb.

“You look nice,” he says, halfway across the grass.

A pulse pounds between my legs. I might be angry and hurt and experiencing a million other emotions right now, but I’m also in love with the guy. And he looks almost as good in his jeans and a button-down as he looks wearing nothing at all.

“Thanks,” I reply.

He looks at the house for a minute before pulling away from the curb. When he speaks, I realize he was looking at the driveway, not the house.

“You get a car?”

He obviously noticed his was returned.

I shake my head. “No.”

“How have you been getting to work?”

I bite back the none of your business that wants to spill out. “The bus.”

A muscle in his jaw tics, but he says nothing, which is a wise choice, considering the state of things between us.

Based on the flowers and the very date vibe of this date, I expect us to head to The Boathouse or Florentini’s—two of Charleston’s more upscale restaurants. Instead, Gray parks outside a small Mediterranean restaurant I’ve only been to once before with Sloane. It makes me wonder if she did more than pick out my clothes in preparation for this evening.

“I’ll be right back,” Gray tells me, then heads inside.

I fiddle with my fingers on my lap, trying to expel some nervous energy.

Minutes later, he’s back, holding a large paper bag. It gets set in the backseat, and then we’re driving again. This time, our destination is obvious. The long stretch of sand that comprises Folly Beach is mostly empty, with only the occasional person in sight and a few cars in the lot. The sun is sinking in the sky, coating everything in golden light.

Gray turns off the Jeep and then grabs the bag of food from the backseat along with two beach towels I didn’t notice until now. He doesn’t say a word as he heads for the sand. I trail behind him, suppressing the urge to ask questions and babble. Which he knows I have a tendency to do. He knows me, and that puts me at a disadvantage in the ice-queen routine. Each second, I thaw a little more.