Embarrassment filled every cell and crevice of Stacey’s body. Her eyes burned and she absolutely hated having sand in her teeth.
“You okay?” Fisher’s round, bass voice filled her ears. Hands touched her arms and helped her up, but they weren’t his. Such a shame.
She shook her head as much to get the traitorous thoughts out as to remove the sand from her hair. “I’m all right.”
“I saved the drinks.” He set the crate of Island Surfers on the sand beside her and scanned her. “It was you or them. Sorry if I chose wrong.” He glanced down, and somehow the gesture made him adorable instead of handsome. Soft instead of hard. Approachable instead of intimidating. The casual gym shorts and plain navy T-shirt helped with all of the above.
“No, it’s fine,” she said. “They’re for my dinner guests, a
