They come closer. I sling an arm around each of their shoulders, and they look like they’re about to faint.
After Vaughn snaps the pic, the girls sprint off like they’re competing for Olympic gold. Seconds later a dozen other girls congregate around them, whispering wildly and squealing as they all bend over the phone.
Nobody else comes over to ask for a picture. Weird. I guess Pixie and Pigtails were the only ones with the nerve to ask.
That’s…refreshing.
“They were so sweet,” Vaughn says, giving me the first genuine smile of the evening.
“Adorbs,” I agree.
She raises a brow. “You initiated the physical contact.”
I nod.
“Why?”
I think for a second. “Because they didn’t try to touch me. They viewed it as a treat, not a right.” I shrug. “Besides, sometimes physical contact is nice.”
I take her hand, and she freezes.
Frustration rises inside me. I almost remind her that this is what she’s being paid to do, but damn it, I don’t want her to hold my hand because of the money. I want her to do it because she wants to.
So I wait.
And wait some more.
And then…she laces her fingers through mine, and something inside me thaws.
“Come on, let’s walk for a bit,” I suggest.
We toss our empty plates in a nearby trash can and then head down the sand. As we walk, I can’t help sneaking peeks at her. She’s wearing flip-flops instead of her usual ratty sneakers. Tight blue jeans hug her thighs and ass. A striped top falls off one shoulder and reveals her tanned, smooth skin. I can totally see why Jim and my PR team think of her as “the girl next door.” There’s something genuine and sweet about Vaughn.
Her dark hair is tied in a long braid that swings behind her back with every step she takes. I can’t stop myself from tugging on it with my free hand.
She glances over uneasily.
We walk in silence, not venturing too far from the party. I look over my shoulder and see that Ty’s hawk-like gaze is fixed on us, even while he listens to whatever Paisley is saying.
Vaughn and I stop at the edge of where the water meets the sand, both of us staring out at the ocean.
“My mom really liked you,” I find myself confessing.
“I liked her, too. She’s awesome.”
I’m instantly skeptical. Then I feel like an ass for being skeptical, because it’s not like my mom is some evil shrew. Almost all of my memories of her are good ones, full of joy and laughter and lots and lots of fun. But the fun died a few years ago. Pretty much since she stopped calling me.
“She’s so proud of you,” Vaughn adds.
I shift in discomfort. “Yeah…I doubt that.”
“She is. I swear, she wouldn’t stop talking about all your accomplishments. And she showed me a ton of pictures of you.”
I narrow my eyes. “What pictures?”
Vaughn smiles. “Nothing too embarrassing. Unless you consider dressing up as Iron Man for Halloween embarrassing.”
“I was going through a superhero phase,” I say defensively. “And I was eight.” A frown mars my lips. “She has all those pictures on her phone?”
“Her phone has nothing but pictures of you as far as I could tell. She even has baby pics on there. I told you, she’s proud of you…” She trails off in hesitation.
“What?” I say warily.
“I think she thinks you hate her.”
I swallow the huge lump that fills my throat. Then I cough. “Nah, there’s no way she thinks that.”
Vaughn shrugs. “I’m just telling you what it seemed like.”
I’m sure it did. My mother is a phenomenal actress. She was probably trying to paint me as the villain just to make herself look good.
I answer in a bitter voice. “She called me after you guys had lunch. Before that, I hadn’t heard from her in a month. Before that, it was six months. If anyone’s in the wrong here, it ain’t me.”
“How often do you call her?”
She has me there. I grit my teeth. “I don’t call because I know she doesn’t care to hear from me.”
Vaughn shakes her head in disapproval. “Sure, Oakley, keep telling yourself that.”
I frown. “You’re not in any position to judge. You spent all of two hours with her. That doesn’t exactly make you an expert on Katrina Ford.”
“Okay. Whatever. Forget I said anything.” She sounds grumpy again.
Great. Now we’re both cranky.
I take a breath and regroup. “Why are you in such a bad mood tonight?”
Since I don’t expect her to tell me, I’m not surprised when she stays quiet.
Her silence rubs me the wrong way, though, stirring up my inner shit-disturber. “What, did you and the frat boy get in a lover’s quarrel?”
Vaughn flinches.
“Did I hit a nerve?” I raise one eyebrow.
Her lips flatten in a thin line.
“Must have been a doozy of a fight, huh? Let me guess, he—”
“Dumped me,” she interrupts.
I blink. “What?”
“He dumped me.” Her eyes take on a defiant glint. “That’s what you want to hear, right? How W dumped my ass? Well, he did. He broke it off the night you showed up at my house unannounced.”
It’s hard to suppress the happy smile that’s begging to spring free. “Oh. That sucks. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t pretend to care,” she mutters. “Since we’ve met, all you’ve done is say nasty things about W. You think he’s pretentious and douchey.”
Yeah. I do. “Aw, you know I was just joking around,” I lie.
“Bullshit.” Her expression becomes pained. “I guess you can say whatever you want about him now. Because we’re done. And I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay?”
She looks on the verge of tears, and I feel like a total ass for needling her about it. I need to lighten the situation, distract her before she runs into the ocean and tries to drown herself or something. Luckily, I know just how to distract chicks—by turning up the Oakley Ford charm. That unique blend of annoying jerk and irresistible rogue.
“Does that mean you’re going to stop sulking and enjoy this barbecue?” I ask cheerfully.
She glares at me. “I’m not sulking.”
“Babe, you’re totally sulking. It’s incredibly unattractive, if I’m being honest.” I’m grinning as I say it.
A reluctant smile tugs on her lips. “You know what else is unattractive? Watching you stuff your face with hot dogs all night. How do you not weigh five hundred pounds?”
Operation Distraction is a success. “I work out.” I flex both biceps at her. “Guns like these don’t grow on trees.”
“What is it with you and your guns? You’re obsessed with yourself, dude.”
“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m a hottie.”
She snorts.
“You laugh, but we both know you agree. Come on, say it—you’re a hottie, Oak.”
“Never,” she declares.
“I really think you should say it…”
“Or what?” she challenges. “Whatcha gonna do, Oak? Pull my hair?”
“No, but I will do this.” Before she can blink, I yank her forward and haul her over my shoulder.
A shriek fills the air. “Put me down right this second, Oakley Ford!”
“Maybe later.” I secure her in a fireman’s carry and race toward the water. “I think you need to cool off with a nice swim,” I taunt as she pounds at my back with her small fists. “My fault, really. Most girls get overheated when faced with my manly good looks.”
“Don’t you dare!” Vaughn sputters, but she’s laughing.
I keep running. She bats at my shoulders.
“It’s February!” she shrieks. “I swear, if you throw me in that ice-cold water, I will murder you!” Then she manages to get a solid kick to my gut, which causes me to stumble slightly. That’s all she needs to get out of my hold and scramble to her feet.