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I let him pull me up, and I don’t protest when he laces our fingers together.
“Your dad says there’s a private cove somewhere around here. Feel like a little fun?” he asks, bouncing his eyebrows suggestively.
Pretty sure my feet turn into lead, because they stop moving, and I fall. Face first. Into the sand.
Told you I suck at life.
“Shit!” Jax says around a laugh, losing his grip on my hand as I slowly raise up, seeing sand on the ends of my eyelashes and tasting the grit of it on my lips.
“You okay, babygirl?” Dad calls from down the beach. I turn to see the asshole grinning at me knowingly.
Some fathers want to pinch off a guy’s head off for screwing their daughters. My dad made jokes like he would, but then he tells Jax about the sex cove. That’s what Bora has always called it.
My dad is the kind of dad who is loving the hell out of the fact I’m pretending to be the reckless, sexy Bora, when… Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I had sex.
Jax hauls me back to my feet and back to my current situation, and I glare daggers at my smiling father.
“You okay?” Jax asks, still chuckling while wiping some of the sand off my face.
“I can’t swim,” I blurt out randomly.
“Yes you can,” he says, confused. “We swam at my gym’s pool… Remember? It was the one and only time you’ve come to the gym.”
He arches a brow, and I clear my throat. “I mean I can’t swim today.”
See? I suck at being deceptive. And improv is so not my strong suit.
“Why?” he asks slowly, looking at me like the sand has somehow made me lose IQ points.
Yeah… Said that too loudly.
Mrs. Marshall starts screaming, “Where?! Sharks! Where?”