Anchor gives me a soft smile. “You're really mad to share a dock with me?”
“I don't even know you. You're lucky my brothers aren't here. They'd have a fit if they knew I was staying next to you all week.”
“Why is that?” Anchor asks, stepping closer.
“Well. Actually.” I swallow, suddenly feeling hot, bothered and not in a good way—more like embarrassed. “Scratch that,” I say. “Are you staying at your new property with anyone else or is this a solo vacation?”
He chuckles, “Is that your way of asking if I'm single?”
Thinking I might have put my foot in my mouth, I groan. “Okay. Yes, you caught me. Are you single, Anchor, or are you here on this romantic vacation with your wife, your children? Your girlfriend?”
“I’m single,” he says, “and I plan on keeping it that way.” His look is so deadpan and so intense, I feel a shiver run down my spine. I realize he's not joking.
Okay, so he is not dating material. Good to know.
I lick my lips. “Great,” I say. “Sounds like you’re a real catch.”
With that, I run a hand over my sopping wet dress and turn on my heels. “It was great meeting you,” I say, calling over my shoulder. “Really fantastic. Really.”
He laughs, “Yeah, Lemon, likewise.”
I turn around when I reach the end of the dock, hating that I am but unable to hold back.
The thing is, Anchor is just staring at me.
“You have a really fine ass,” he tells me. The compliment is not hidden by anything. Plain as day.
My jaw drops open.
“You're just gonna say it, just like that?”
“It’s the truth,” he says. “I can'tnotsay it.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
He shrugs. “See you later, Lemon.”
I march back into the house and pick up my cell phone, ready to pressCallon my dad's number.
But then I look out the window at Anchor. He's carrying his paddleboard up onto the deck, walking across the lawn to his house. He pauses, looking over his property, up to mine. He can't see me in the kitchen window. But god, I can see him.
He looks incredible.
I know if I call my father it's gonna be a whole thing. He's gonna ask all these details about Anchor that I don't know. Rye might overhear the whole thing, considering they work side-by-side.
Maybe Bartlett’s over. Heck, Mac could be too, for all I know.
Reuben, even. Do I want everyone to know my business?
Isn't the whole point of coming up here to get away from my family and their deep dive into every detail of my love life?
I set my phone down, remembering Graham and Mac finding my vibrator.
The comment at the dinner table last night.
Lemon needs to find a husband—insinuating that I need a partner in order to have sex.
Otherwise, I'll be using my battery-operated boy toy for the rest of my life. Which honestly isn't the worst-case scenario. The worst-case scenario would be a battery shortage.