Page 55 of Sand in My Boots

Last night’s reprieve turned out to be a good thing. In my entire thirty-four years, this is the most sex I’ve ever had in a short time span. Having approximately thirty-six hours before she leaves drives me wild with emotions I’m not willing to name.

I’ve convinced myself of two things: one, I’ve had a crush on her for years, and I’m acting on it all now.

Two, this ends. Which depresses me more than I’m willing to admit.

But after Monday morning, reality settles in. She’ll go back to Georgia, and I’ll get back to work. It doesn’t feel like a break because I’ve been on property most of the week, but it’s been a wonderful escape to clear my head. Of course, a lot of that has to do with Juli.

“You’re staring again.” She continues gazing ahead.

“Can’t help it. You’re gorgeous, princess.”

Juli guffaws next to me. “Ha. Hardly a princess.”

A loud speedboat engine rumbling toward the beach cuts off anything else I might add. I can’t see much from my angle, but I do my best to watch as the boat pulls up on the sand down the beach from where we sit. The engine cuts off, and a worker I recognize from Charleston Charters hops down. He’s got a set of stairs to set up on the sand so the five groomsmen and the groom can climb down.

Jonah’s the last one off the boat, clutching his stomach. It’s too far to determine the pallor of his skin, but as soon as his feet hit the sand, he takes off for nearby palm trees.

Sucks to be him, and I feel a little bad. Enough to get me out of my chair to make sure he’s okay. My duty as the recreation director who hooked him up with the boat.

“Where are you going?”

“To check on him. Be right back.” I can’t leave without a kiss to her cheek before darting over to where the groomsmen gather around the tree.

“Anything I can do to help?” I’m not sure what I can do, as confirmed by the way they’re looking quizzically at me.

“Nah, man. We got this. Nothing to see here.”

Jonah looks up. He’s ghostly white with a distinct overtone of nausea from the water. “Water. I need water. And maybe some of those pills . . . ” He trails off, embarrassed by his actions.

“On it. Be right back.” I should have listened to my gut and made sure he was offered them when he first got on the boat. Motion sickness is no joke, but his bride didn’t seem to think precautions were necessary. I hope I get the chance to ask him why the entire boat was needed in the first place, but seeing as where he is, moments from saying “I do,” it would be wise to keep my mouth shut.

Returning to the sand, I’ve got anti-nausea pills and a very cold bottle of water. His expression mortified, Jonah accepts them graciously. “This is one way to make an entrance at my wedding.”

“I’m sure none of the other guests realize what’s going on.”

“Noticed you came running.”

I don’t take the bait. “Had a feeling it might be a problem.” I shrug nonchalantly. He can chalk it up to being good at my job.

He stands up, still slightly hunched over, his back leaned up against a palm tree. “Has this happened before?”

“Not at a wedding, but you’re not the first guest who’s been in this position.”

His eyes close. “People are going to either think I have cold feet or I’m hungover.”

“Rewrite the narrative. It’s your day.”

His eyes shoot open. “Are you hungover? Or spending too much time with Naomi?”

I chuckle, understanding how he drew that conclusion. “Neither.”

“And what’s your deal with Juliana?”

As if I owe this guy an explanation. However, if talking is going to help him feel better, it’s the least I can do. Though I’m not “on the job,” it’s hard to turn it off.

“We’re friends.” He cocks an eyebrow. “We knew each other years ago. We’re . . . exploring it this week.”

He nods without judgment. “I don’t know her all that well, but she’s more radiant than I remember her to be.”