All To Myself Read Online Free PDF Page B

two make an adorable couple,” Hannah said. “Did you know he’s going to be working the front desk tomorrow?”
    “No, he’s going to help Freddie at the concierge desk,” Rory said.
    “He was mowing lawns today. Had his shirt off. I thought Francie was going to fog up the glass watching him.”
    Rory chuckled. “A beer says she finds a reason to work the evening he’s at the bar. It’ll do her good to get horny. She’ll go home horny for her husband. Maybe she won’t be such a bitch for a few hours.”
    “So, what about Noah?”
    Rory sucked in her annoyance and stood to wipe the sand from her feet. She shuffled into her towel, then stuffed her feet into her sneakers.
    “He’s … a friend.”
    The other two exchanged an eye-roll.
    “Seriously? He’s a nice guy, and he’s here to work.”
    “And he’s dying to get into your pants.”
    “How does that make him different from any other guy? Donald was trying to feel me up in the water a few minutes ago.”
    “Donald tries to feel everyone up,” Hannah countered.
    “And he’s still the first one to show up when someone is in a fix, right?” Rory shook out her towel. “I only just met him, but Noah’s not so bad when you get to know him.”
    “Just make sure you wrap a rubber on his dick if you fuck him.” Fiona passed the remnants of the joint back to Hannah and shook out her hair. “Did anyone bring any beer?”
    “I think Gord brought a growler. Anyway, I’m off.” Rory tucked her towel and sandy clothes into her backpack.
    “It’s supposed to rain tomorrow,” Fiona called. “You need a lift?”
    “Nah, I like riding in the rain.”
    Her knee had gone from swollen to stiff, and getting over the wooden stairs that scaled the dunes proved more of a challenge going up than it had coming down. She headed off down the beach to where the flat boardwalk crossed over the marshlands. She always locked her bike in the trees at the mouth of the circular driveway, and the other end of the beach would spit her out just a short walk from where she had left her wheels.
    As she reached her destination, she glanced further down the sand to where the chalets stuck out from the dunes. The first four were dark, but the outside light of the last was lit. There was movement on the veranda.
    She stood on the slatted boardwalk and chewed on the sudden potential of what she could do next.
    It wouldn’t hurt to take a little drive. At least you wouldn’t have to bike it home in the dark with your knee still a little screwy.
    She didn’t believe it. Of course, she didn’t. It would hurt like hell to take a little drive. She found that getting to know him, even in the little time they spent together, had left her with a little urge to get to know more.
    Whether he was looking to get into her pants or not, she was on the same troubled path. Sleeping with him wasn’t the problem. She could do it and recognize it for the simple fuck it was. If he ignored her the next day, so what? She could ignore him right back.
    The real danger came in the sense that he wasn’t merely looking to screw her, that even if she gave him blue balls he would still want to stop and talk to her, to sit at the bar and flirt all summer. The real danger came in getting to like him too much.
    She’d seen it before. Friends who had started summer romances with cottagers and drove themselves crazy trying to retain that rush via email and video chatting and promises of visits that never happened. It seemed like such a stupid thing to walk into.
    And yet she found herself following the trail leading down to the chalets.
    At some point he must have seen her coming, or heard her. He reclined in a wicker chair, his legs stretched out in front of him and a glass in is hand. A big bottle of cola perspired on a small table next to him.
    “I should have made a bet,” he said as she stepped onto the veranda. “I should have made one hell of a bet that you’d come crawling.”
    “Who’s