Rock Climbing Therapy: Jane Austen Vacation Club, #3

By Lisa H. Catmull

An age-gap, friends-to-lovers sweet romantic comedy set at the Jane Austen Vacation Club.

 

I've been free-falling ever since my husband handed me divorce papers for Christmas. It's been ten months since then, and I'm still scrambling to find a new landing spot. My ex didn't just shatter my heart; he stole the gear shop I started.

 

So, now I'm untethered and climbing solo.

 

My new rock-climbing instructor seems eager to be my anchor every time I crash in front of him. And I might be willing to give him a chance except for one thing—he's five years younger than me.

 

And that's an age difference I'm not willing to traverse.

 

So, even though I'm ignoring him, Cliff seems determined to overcome any mountain of obstacles.

 

And me? I'm standing on the edge of a precipice, afraid of what might happen if I cut him any slack.

 

Rock Climbing Therapy is a closed-door, "sweet" friend-to-lovers romantic comedy with swoony-worthy kisses, but no spicy content. There's a prequel in the series, but this book can be enjoyed as a stand-alone, as long as you're up for some hardcore yearning and maybe a few tears along with the laughs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisa H. Catmull
• Release date: May 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223411420

Book preview

Chapter One

I said I’d try anything once.

My mistake.

My friend, Natalie, wheels her luggage beside me. We’re going to have an amazing week. She smiles hopefully.

I smile back, and she doesn’t notice how fake it is. I wouldn’t spend Fall Break with anyone but you.

The doors to the hotel open, and we roll our suitcases over the small lip. "Not just me. Cliff." Natalie waggles her eyebrows.

I look desperately around the grand lobby. This place is nicer than I expected. Keep it down. You have the loudest voice of anyone I know.

She scowls. Some of us are married, so we have to live vicariously through you when it comes to dating.

I know. I was married once, too, remember? And dating isn’t all that fun.

Natalie winces. I’m sorry, Kat. My bad.

I smile at the desk attendant while Natalie fumbles in her purse for her I.D. We check in and grab our key cards, then flop in the lobby’s oversized armchairs.

Natalie puts out her hand. It’s not your fault that your ex was a loser.

I picked him, so what does that make me?

Natalie rolls her eyes. A marriage Grinch. I thought you promised to stop being cynical.

Sorry. I say that a lot. I don’t mean to sound so cynical. You and Bryce are adorable. Scott never treated me like that. He certainly never sacrificed anything for me, the way Bryce does for you.

Natalie’s husband wheels the rest of their luggage in the front entrance, and Natalie practically jumps out of her chair. Hey, let’s check out our rooms and have some fun. We’re here to forget about Scott.

Everything we’ve done for the last year has been to forget my ex, ever since he presented me with divorce papers during the Thanksgiving vacation last year, then pressured me to sign them quickly by Christmas. Turns out he wanted to be single before New Year’s Eve—tax reasons, he said—but really, so he could party with someone else—specifically, Trina.

Which it turns out he’d been doing for a while anyway, single or not.

Worst holiday season ever.

I take a deep breath. Right. Forget him. Try everything. That’s how I ended up taking rock climbing classes with my friends and meeting Cliff.

Now their husbands are all best buds with him, and they want to spend Fall Break here, at this luxury resort. If Cliff recommends it, they all jump at his suggestion. He knows all the best places to hike and climb and vacation and eat out and everything.

I’ll grant him that.

So my friends have adopted him, like a puppy, and I tag along because otherwise I’d never see them, but I get stuck with him every time we get seated.

An extremely attractive puppy. Cliff is as buff as a German shepherd and as eager as a poodle, but as smart as a beagle and as loyal as a golden retriever.

And he has impeccable taste. The view of the Rocky Mountains from the hotel lobby is breathtaking, and I can’t wait to hit the rockface outside.

Cliff appears out of nowhere. Hey! Kat! He grins and tugs me into his arms, like he does every time he sees me. He’s one of those people who gives the best hugs, just the right amount of pressure to feel good, but it never gets weird. I let myself enjoy it for a few seconds before I step away.

His fingers brush my shoulders as they slowly fall away. Did you get your room?

Yes, thanks. I glance down, and he’s holding a book. I don’t even ask, but Cliff answers my question.

Ryder Hawk’s latest. It just dropped today, and it looks awesome. Can’t wait to read it when we have some downtime. I read the first couple of chapters already, and I’m hooked.

Of course he has downtime. He has no responsibilities. He’s a college kid. I plaster on my smile for Natalie and her husband and try to make small talk with Cliff. Oh yeah, what does he write?

He writes historical Westerns. Cliff waits for me to laugh, so I do. I hear he’s going to write a contemporary cowboy romance. I can’t wait. I’m a sucker for a good romance.

Are you? I say without thinking. I’m so used to being polite that I can’t stop being socially appropriate, but I’ve got to stop because…

I am. Cliff smolders at me. He isn’t embarrassed to admit that he reads romance novels. In fact, he’s proud of it, like he’s all tender masculinity or romantic or something.

I stand to go to my room. I’ll let you get back to reading.

Cliff puts a hand on my arm. The book can wait. I have all week, and you might like it. It starts out in Northern California. The author bio says that he lives in Sacramento. I’m from San Diego, so I feel connected, you know?

Sure. I don’t really get it, since Northern and Southern California are nothing like each other. I shrug off his hand as I turn to look for my other friends. You know what? I should drop my bag off in my room.

Natalie and her husband are standing near the elevator now. Panic floods me. They’re going to leave me alone with Cliff. I try to catch Natalie’s eye.

Cliff is not a puppy. He’s a bloodhound, on my scent, and he’s got me cornered between the soda machine and the tea cart.

Cliff puts his hand next to mine on the carry-on handle. Right next to mine. I’ve already dropped off my suitcase. I can take yours up, and we’ll see where your room is. Maybe it’s by mine.

Wow, his eyes are intense. Blue like the ocean on a sunny day.

He steps toward me. One tiny step. We’re already so close, but now we’re close enough that I get a whiff of his aftershave.

And he smells good. I hate it when he showers. Is that cedar or citrus? Both?

He steps closer again, like he smells my attraction to him. Stupid bloodhound. Cliff’s thumb runs the length of mine along the carry-on handle, and my breath catches.

I tug ever so subtly at the handle. I’m good. I got it.

I’m too subtle. Nothing happens except that Cliff and I stare at each other for a long second with our fingers touching.

Okay. He lets go of my carry-on and settles into a chair. If you want to read the book, it’s on Kindle. We can read it together on my phone when you come back downstairs. I’ll start over. I’m not very far yet and—

I’m good. Thanks. Romance isn’t really my thing right now.

Cliff grins. This one is a Western.

Uh. Enjoy. I turn my back on Cliff and head toward the elevators, then press the Up button over and over again. I draw a deep breath to replace the smell of him with generic hotel odors.

This is going to be the worst Fall Break ever. My thumb still sizzles with electricity where he brushed it, and my stomach is folding in on itself.

Do you have to shut him down so completely? Natalie asks. He’s perfect for you. What’s your problem?

Nothing. He’s a great guy, but he’s in his senior year of college, I whisper. I’m twenty-nine, which is practically thirty, and he’s what? Twenty? I don’t know. It would be like a teacher dating a student.

I look over my shoulder. Cliff watches me unabashedly. He’s not reading anything on his phone.

Yeah, but he’s not your typical student. I mean, his cousin owns a freakin’ resort, and he knows every climbing route between here and Denver. Besides, I think he took a couple of years off, so he’s older or something, more like twenty-four or twenty-five, and you just turned twenty-nine last week, so you’re only four or five years apart.

I bite my lip and look over at the cozy arrangement of upholstered chairs clustered around a fireplace. I didn’t know about the gap years he took away from college, so I’m not sure how old he actually is.

Cliff grins at me.

Natalie continues. "So, he’s into you. That shows that he’s got good taste. Besides, he’s our climbing instructor, and you’re the student, so it’s the other way around. She grins and nudges me. Go, cougar."

Stop it. I speak without thinking. "I’m not dating a baby."

I glance guiltily behind me. That might have come out a little too loud—loud enough to carry across the grand entrance, all the way to the fireplace and the tea cart and the cluster of comfy chairs.

A smile slowly spreads across Cliff’s face as he stretches casually. Even from here, I can see his biceps bulge inside his t-shirt as he props his arms behind his head. It’s like he’s moving in slow motion on purpose, and I can’t tear my eyes away.

Yeah, rock climbing has been good to him.

The elevator bell chimes, and Natalie nudges me. Are you getting in?

What? I turn around. The metal doors are wide open.

Going up? She nudges me and stage whispers, Or do you want to wipe the drool from your chin first? Who’s the baby?

Natalie laughs, and I wheel my suitcase inside. I turn around and push the button for my floor over and over. My eyes meet Cliff’s across the grand lobby, and his smile widens.

I tip my head against the smooth metal of the elevator wall. I think he heard us.

The door slides shut, and Natalie’s husband fake coughs.

What, Bryce?

You weren’t exactly quiet, he says. The entire hotel probably heard you.

The elevator lurches, then gently glides up. Well, I don’t understand why he is smiling.

Bryce looks like he can’t decide what to say.

I play with the handle of my carry-on. Just tell me. We’re all friends here.

He laughs. Cliff has been bugging me for months, trying to figure out why you won’t go out with him.

I exchange a look with Natalie. Seriously? For one thing, he hasn’t asked. But good, now he knows.

Bryce shakes his head. "No, you don’t know Cliff. He hasn’t asked because he knew the answer would be no. But now he knows the only reason you won’t date him is his age. Not anything else."

My stomach falls, and it has nothing to do with the motion of the elevator. Do I need more reasons?

Well, yeah. Natalie exchanges a glance with her husband. You look pretty flustered for someone who doesn’t want to go out with him.

I turn to Bryce. It wasn’t that bad, was it?

Bryce laughs. Which part? The part where you stood so close to him that I couldn’t fit his book between you?

Or the part where you stared at his biceps across the lobby? Natalie asks.

Bryce laughs. Or the drool on your chin?

Natalie nods. Yeah, all of it looked like flirting from here.

My cheeks flush bright red. "He was standing close to me."

Natalie rolls her eyes. You didn’t exactly move away from him. In fact, I swear you leaned in.

I didn’t want to be rude. Which, according to my mom, is the worst thing a woman can be.

Natalie and Bryce exchange another look, and Bryce snorts. "Or you like him, and you won’t admit it. The elevator chimes, and Bryce juts his arm across the doors so we can exit. And now he knows he has a chance with you."

Cliff has zero chance with me, but Bryce is right about one thing. I do know that look in Cliff’s eye. We’ve scaled plenty of rockfaces together, and he never backs down from a challenge. It makes him more determined.

After months of avoiding his subtle flirting and evading him when he almost asks me out, I’ve just let him know there’s only one reason I won’t date him—his age.

And he is going to make sure I know that he is a fully-grown man.

Chapter Two

My room is ridiculous. It’s almost as large as the one-bedroom apartment I’ve been renting since last November. There’s a fully furnished living room with a high-end entertainment system, a fully stocked dining area, a kitchenette with all the appliances, and a separate bedroom with my king-sized bed.

Then there’s the waterfall shower, the sauna inside the bathroom, and the hot tub on the balcony.

I want to live here and never go home, but how much does this place cost? I mean, I’ve been to some swank hotels with Mom, but I can’t imagine the tab for one night at this place.

And then there’s the whole Regency-era theme in the lobby and hallway and grand ballroom. And no sign of construction or maintenance or any reason why we’d get these rooms for free, like Cliff said.

But I don’t want to think about being in debt to him, so I pull out my phone and check my email and messages. Still nothing. The only thing I can do right now is wait, so I slip the phone back into my pocket.

I pull open the door and peek into the hallway. Cliff could be anywhere, and he’s nothing but a distraction. I really need to focus because my new gear shop is finally scheduled to open in two months, once I nail down the lease.

The coast is clear. I step outside and wander down the silent corridor. It costs money to keep a hotel this quiet.

My phone pings, and I eagerly pull it out. Maybe that’s the commercial real estate company. There’s an armchair across from the elevator, and I stop there to check my messages.

It’s not them, but it’s not someone I can ignore.

It’s my investor. My partner. The only person willing to take a chance on me.

My mom.

Mom: Do you honestly think you’re going to open that store on time?

Me: Still working on it.

Mom: I see you working on social media more than anything.

I draw a deep breath. So, it’s going to be one of those conversations.

Me: Yep.

Mom: Do you really think that’s the best way to spend your time?

Me: Until I have the lease signed, yes.

Mom: Another intern is leaving.

I close my eyes. Here we go again.

Me: Sorry to hear that.

Mom: I can pay you to run my social media accounts, and you don’t have to stay around there.

Me: Thanks for the offer.

Mom: You should be with your family. Save us all a lot of money and come home.

There’s a reason the interns keep quitting. She’s not the easiest boss.

Me: This store isn’t going to fail. Scott tanked the last one, not me.

Me: I’ll try to get someone to cover the store during Christmas. I promise I won’t miss the holidays with the family.

Mom: You have one month before I offer the job to someone else. Sonia leaves at the end of the semester. I need you to start as soon as you get home for the holiday break.

She adds some emojis to make it cute or soften the tone, like this job offer is a favor to me, but I know how many interns she’s fired. I know the way she burns out her friends.

I also know how many strings are attached to any offer that my mom extends. If I work as her personal assistant and run her social media accounts, she’ll finally own me completely. I decided to stop being her marionette puppet years ago.

But then Scott happened.

So, now I’m dancing on a tightrope, fighting for my independence, but also trying to keep her happy. And pay rent. And buy groceries. And stay sane. And stay alive.

Maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe I’m finally old enough that she trusts me and won’t micromanage me or criticize every choice.

Maybe I’m desperate.

Me: Thanks. I’ll think about it.

Me: How are the boys?

I wait a couple minutes, but I guess Mom is done talking. She got what she wanted—a concession from me. I’ll have to text my brothers separately, but my friends will pound down my door if I don’t join them soon. We always go swimming after dinner on the first night.

Let’s get it over with.

I do everything I can to make myself as unattractive as possible. I pull my hair back into a ponytail, as always. I tie a wrap loosely around my waist and find my baggiest t-shirt to slip over my swimsuit.

I should have brought an uglier swimsuit, but I threw the old ones away. I head downstairs as late as I possibly can, checking the stairwell and marble-bust lined hallway and grand lobby.

No one. I push open the double doors to the outdoor patio and crane my neck to look around the corner.

The coast is clear.

The infinity pool looks inviting. I tug at the knot over my hip, debating whether to dive in. I could happily spend an hour in there and avoid dinner.

But I should check my social media accounts first.

A low voice drawls, Well, if it isn’t Katherine C. Worthen.

I whip around. Darius is holding open the door, and his wife stops to kiss him on her way through. Monique dumps her purse, hat, and cell phone on the table, then rushes over and crushes me in a hug.

Good to see you, too! I peel her off my shoulders. When did you get here?

Later than we should have. We almost missed dinner. Darius’s eyes slide to his wife, and they’re warm with affection. But I love her, so what’s a man to do?

He strides over and pulls me into a huge hug. My arms are pinned against my side, which is fine, since he’s immaculately groomed, as usual. I’m almost afraid of wrinkling his t-shirt. I nudge him. Did you iron your swim trunks?

He cocks his head. A man’s got to look sharp. And he does. Havana hat, matching loafers, tropical print shorts.

You know it’s fall, right? I ask.

A man must look good during every season.

Monique slips in a chair. A man’s got to stop talking about himself in third person, or his wife might whack that man upside the head.

Darius ducks and covers his head with the Havana hat, laughing.

I scrape back a chair and join them around the table, dropping my phone there. Once Darius and Monique arrive, I know I’m not getting any more work done until tomorrow morning. He’s a talker. She’s a talker. I’m a listener.

The Rocky Mountains tower ahead of me, jagged peaks cutting sharp lines into the crisp azure sky, and I want to stare at the striated lines of rock, but somehow Cliff always catches me off-guard, so I sit facing the door. Somehow. Who else is coming?

Darius’s eyes twinkle as he answers, Just us six. Ainsley and Finn couldn’t make it.

Monique smirks at me. It’s all good. I think Cliff wanted to keep it small.

Darius drops his voice. Intimate.

I smack his arm. Stop it. It’ll be nice not to wait to take turns climbing.

Uh-huh. Monique relaxes back in her chair. Keep telling yourself that, but I don’t think Cliff minds having you hover around him.

I lean on the table. I don’t hover.

Darius throws back his head and laughs. Oh yes, you do. This is going to be worth every penny we’re paying the nanny to take the kids. A full week of overtime pay? Yes, indeed.

Monique waves, and I whip my head around. There’s another door. A side door.

Noted.

Hey, Nat. Bryce. It’s an ambush of friends. Is that a thing? Like, a murder of crows or a parliament of owls or a pod of whales. I hide a smile as I look around at my friends. Definitely an ambush.

We better leave room over there. They sit at the table beside us instead of filling the empty chairs with us. Bryce looks meaningfully at the empty chair and grins.

I don’t take the bait. If I do, they’ll keep teasing me, like they have for the last six months.

A deep, gravelly voice startles me from behind. Who’s hungry?

I whip my head around again, just in time to see a tall, lanky guy with curly orange hair round the corner. His face is completely covered in freckles—not like Cliff’s light dusting, the one that gives him that boyish charm. No, this guy’s freckles are so thick that I can hardly see the skin beneath.

He’s wearing black-and-white checkered board shorts, an RVCA baseball cap—backward—and carrying a tray of food. He slides it onto the empty table next to us. Cliff thought you’d like to eat out here. The weather’s pretty sweet.

It is. It was a great idea. This is why everyone loves Cliff.

Everyone except me.

I twist around in my seat, expecting to find Cliff carrying another tray of food.

A strong hand lands on my shoulder from behind, and I startle.

Chapter Three

Cliff. He approached from the left side. My blind spot. He bends down and says, Hey, Kat, in a deep, husky voice that makes goosebumps erupt along my arms. He’s so close that I can see every freckle scattered across the tops of his cheeks.

The cheek that nearly brushes against mine as he straightens.

Cliff keeps a firm hand on my shoulder as he leans across me to bump fists with Darius. Hey, man, glad you could make it. He swivels to the table behind us, and the pressure on my shoulder increases. Bryce, brother.

Bryce nods. This place is insane.

Darius gestures at the mountains and the swimming pool. And the price was right. Couldn’t turn this down.

Cliff grins and tips his head toward Monique. Thanks for leaving the kids. How’s Danielle? Tabitha? Still teething?

It’s insane. He’s the youngest one here, but he’s a natural leader. He takes charge of the conversation effortlessly as he looks around the table.

Monique starts talking about her kids, and I tune out the rest of the conversation.

How much does this resort cost? There’s no way this is free, like he said, or that we don’t have to tip whoever’s cleaning the rooms.

The pressure on my shoulder lifts as Cliff slides into the chair beside me. He smiles casually, as if the last two minutes didn’t happen, as if standing flush against the back of my chair with his torso resting against my back was the most natural thing in the world.

Which it is. It feels warm and comfortable and comforting, like we just fit together.

But I’m a jagged puzzle piece with the ends broken off. I don’t fit anywhere anymore.

What can I get you? He nods toward the table beside us, which filled with food while I wasn’t looking. I asked Nick to make something light, and I guess light means appetizers. Thirsty?

Sure. It all sounds great. Because it does. Because I can’t fault his taste—just his age.

Cliff rests his hand lightly on my shoulder again as he stands back up and passes me on his way to the other table. Coke? he calls, more as a formality. He’s already dug through a cooler and found the coldest one for me.

I stretch behind me to reach his extended arm. Yes, please. The ice-cold metal of the can surprises me, and I set it on the table, then lean over to grab a Mountain Dew from him.

He’s already digging out another can. Monique, you’re Diet Coke, right? Anything for you, Darius?

Cliff hands soda around the table to Nat and Bryce, then hands me a stack of napkins. How many do you want? He loads a plate with enough food for three people, then sets it between us. I can go back for more. I also loaded up on the home fries.

I guess we’re sharing a plate. That’ll be plenty. I don’t usually eat very much before I go swimming.

I figured. Cliff nods and opens the bun of each slider, picks the red onions off half of them, and puts them on the other buns.

I stare at his fingers, moving deftly across the plate. Scott always ordered burgers without onions for both of us, because he didn’t like bad breath.

But Cliff always has gum and mints in his backpack and his pocket. He offers me one of the sliders with extra onions. Our fingers brush as I accept it, and I ignore the butterflies that ignite in my stomach.

I take a bite. Tangy barbecue sauce explodes in my mouth. What is this place? When Cliff told us his cousin owned a hotel, we all laughed. No one our age owns a hotel.

But Cliff was serious, so when he told us they had to do some maintenance work and couldn’t book rooms for regular guests, Darius answered yes for all of us. Free anything? Darius’s idea of the perfect date is going to Costco when all the samples are out.

So, no. If it’s free, none of us care how janky the motel is.

This, however, is not a janky motel on the outskirts of Loveland. This is a world-class luxury resort tucked at the base of the Rocky Mountains, and I don’t see any maintenance happening. I take a deep breath. I cannot afford to pay for this, if it turns out I misunderstood.

I go to wipe my fingers, and the napkin falls off my lap. Cliff reaches over to pick it up, grazing my thigh as he bends over. His hand settles on my leg just for a moment as he arranges the napkin in my lap, and then it’s gone. The butterflies take flight, knocking against the edges of my ribs and making it hard to concentrate.

Cliff’s leveled up his game. Cliff 2.0—find excuses to touch Kat. Fingertips, shoulder, thigh, leg. I mean, he’s always been touchy-feely, but this is a completely different game. He’s got mad new skills, and he’s racking up experience points right and left.

Meanwhile, I’m dying under the onslaught of tingling nerves, but no way will I say anything. That would be rude—and it’s been a long time since butterflies of any kind danced anywhere in my body. I might be enjoying it a little.

But I’ll never admit it.

Cliff dips a steak fry into a thick sauce and hands it to me. You have to try the aioli. I’m partial to Nick’s homemade ketchup, but I know how you feel about garlic. He grins.

Thanks. I hold the thick wedge along the edge with the peel. It’s still warm, and the aioli melts a little, dripping down the potato skin. The fries are crisp on the outside and pillowy soft inside. The bite melts in my mouth, and the garlic is hot and creamy at the same time. These are amazing.

Cliff grabs another slider loaded with extra onions and hands it to me. "Nick can cook. Wait until you try his fish tacos."

Onions are good. Lots of onions. I shove half of the slider in my mouth, and sauce drips down my chin. I wipe it before anyone can notice.

Bryce laughs. You talk about this resort like it’s a restaurant.

Cliff holds up his own, non-onion slider. Is that his third or his fourth? It is. And so much more.

Darius sets down his Dr Pepper. How much do people spend on a night here to get this amazing food? It seems like a steep price for a restaurant.

Cliff grins sheepishly. Seriously, don’t worry about it. My cousin only reopened this place a month ago, and he’s still working out some issues. He slides his chair closer to mine and wipes the plate with several steak fries. The plate is empty now, except for the ketchup.

And Cliff’s working on that.

Darius’s eyebrows furrow. Are you sure?

Hundred percent. Cliff wipes the barbecue sauce from the edge of his mouth and tosses his napkin on the table. Axel’s cool.

Who’s Axel? I ask, angling my body away from Cliff. I wasn’t staring at his lips. It was the sauce. I grab my Coke and take a sip—still ice cold.

I am. I’m Cliff’s cousin. The lanky guy returns. He pulls out a chair and sits beside Bryce. If you need anything, let me know. I wander around, but the front desk can always find me. He pats the mobile phone in the side pocket of his board shorts.

Cliff twists in his chair to face the guy who brought the food. It puts him closer to me again, but I’ve caged myself into this corner now. He drapes an arm on the edge of my chair. Are you swimming with us?

Axel shrugs. Sure.

How about you, Kat? I think I’m going to jump in. Cliff stands and slowly peels off his t-shirt, right beside me. His abs are in my face.

In a good way. Very good.

I cough and set down my Coke. In a sec.

Cliff leans over, his bare stomach against my shoulder, and rubs my back. You okay?

Yes, I lie. No, I’m worse! Get your baby boy self away from me.

But babies don’t have six-packs.

Axel looks around. I wonder if Britni needs anything before I hop in. He raises his voice. Hey, Brit!

A short woman with long brown hair sticks her head around the corner. What?

Wanna swim?

She stares at him. With our guests?

We’re not guests, Cliff says, stretching so his stomach muscles clench and tighten next to me. Think of this as a week off.

Britni stares at him.

Cliff meets her eyes. "You know, for maintenance. We’re low maintenance."

Bryce and Darius chuckle.

Don’t encourage him, I say.

Cliff turns to me, eyes flashing with amusement. His voice drops to a sexy growl. "Encourage what?"

The woman—Brit, I guess—looks between us. I glance at Cliff. The dad jokes.

I love the way you pretend to hate my jokes. He rests both hands on the back of his chair, bending the arms at the elbows so the muscles flex just right. But do I look like a dad to you?

I hear snickers, and I catch Natalie’s eye. She whacks Bryce, and he tries to stop laughing. I actually do think his jokes are funny in a cringe sort of way.

Hey, I’m a dad, Darius says, flexing.

I look between Darius and Cliff, pretending to compare them.

No, Cliff, I say, then wait a beat. I still don’t want to admit how manly he looks. You don’t look like a dad. You’re so much more.

His eyes widen in surprise.

So mature.

Cliff folds his arms across his chest. Clearly, he knows I’m messing with him, but I’m committed.

I bite my lip. You look like a grandpa.

Darius loses it, coming over to slap Cliff on the back. Oh, man, don’t mess with our girl, Kat.

"Well, I am twenty-four, he says pointedly. Cliff grins and looks back at Britni. You see what we’re like. He gives me a pointed look, but it’s friendly. All of us. You’re welcome to join us, if you can brave the dad jokes and swimming with a grandpa. Just don’t mess with Kat."

His eyes flash to mine, and he looks delighted that I’m teasing him, like we have an inside joke now or something.

Britni bites her bottom lip. It is perfect weather, and Nick said he’ll grab the dishes. She lets out a deep breath. Okay. I’ll go change.

Axel nods. Cool. He peels off his shirt, as slowly as Cliff did, and Britni stares at him the way I probably stared at Cliff.

Axel’s even more ripped than Cliff, which I didn’t think was possible. I don’t know what is in their genetics, other than freckles, but they build muscle like no one else I know.

I’m trying not to gawk—because Lanky Boy has muscles for miles—when I hear Britni’s strangled voice. Right. I’ll just… She trips over nothing and rushes away.

Monique and Natalie laugh, but I know how Britni feels. I’m sandwiched between a six-pack (Cliff) and an eight-pack (Axel), and both sets of biceps are flexing.

I need to cool off. I strip off my t-shirt and skirt as quickly as I can and head for the pool.

Cliff dives beside me, and I stop to watch him. Someone pushes me from behind, and I flail as I fall. You are so dead! I yell, and Natalie laughs.

Bryce cannonballs beside me, and then Darius follows.

"Oh no, I’m not