Joy was not comforted by the way Scott stared at her open-mouthed. “I want to know if that’s still your intention, or if that’s changed. And if it’s changed, why? What’s different?”
“I—” He didn’t finish the sentence, instead blowing his breath out and focusing out at sea.
“Because if we’re not dating with some sort of long-term intention, I—”
“You changed it,” he practically yelled over her, his gaze snapping right back to hers. He reached up and ran his hand through his hair, which was half wet and half dry. Joy had sat in her beach chair, only inches off the ground, her appetite for this man growing with every toss of that Frisbee.
He had a runner’s body, which meant not an ounce of fat and plenty of muscles, and he clearly ran on the beach without a shirt most days, because his ski
