girlfriends were a special case. Jen wouldn’t blame him for sharing it with Ellie. As a matter of fact, the longer things continued with Big D, the more Jen knew she was going to have to tell him about it, too.
Chapter 7
When D’s parents picked Jen and D up at the airport in Fort Myers, they greeted her like an old friend. She didn’t sense any lingering discomfort or judgement over their initial meeting. Big D and Jen had driven to the St. Louis airport where they’d met his younger brothers, Tim and George, and they’d all flown together to Florida.
“It’s so nice to have my little birdies all in the same nest,” Mrs. Spencer said, giving each of her sons a second round of hugs. Winking at Jen, she added, “And it’ll be wonderful to have double the girl power on this trip.”
They drove to the large, three-bedroom condo with beach access that the Spencers rented each year. The unit was bright and airy with modern, beachy décor. Jen was given the small bedroom that was usually D’s. For this trip, he’d sleep on the trundle in the den. After stowing their bags in their rooms and changing into shorts, D led Jen over a narrow, weather-beaten bridge to a sandy path that eventually opened to the beach. They walked along the edge of the water, holding hands and soaking in the heat. Jen had never been to this part of Florida before and was amazed by the blankets of shells lying in strips across the sand. She stopped often to scoop up a handful and examine them closer.
Their quiet contentment was interrupted when the water around them exploded with splashes made by pounding feet. Tim and George had made their grand entrance into the Gulf of Mexico. Tim was tall and brawny, like D, while his fraternal twin’s leaner frame only topped Jen by a couple of inches. After getting pelted by bullets of cold saltwater, Big D tackled Tim into the surf, apparently forgetting he hadn’t yet changed into his swim trunks.
Jen screamed and ran to dry land when George made a move for her. He chased her down and grabbed her from behind, trapping her arms at her sides. She dug her feet into a pile of shells and sand as she struggled against him. He was surprisingly strong for a skinny guy. With his arms clamped around her, they made slow progress toward the water.
D rushed the beach to come to Jen’s rescue. George slackened his grip at his hulking brother’s approach, and Jen broke free. Squealing, she ran to her soaking wet boyfriend and jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist. George raced to the water.
With a firm arm around Jen, D spun toward the gulf, laughing and shouting, “Punks!” Tim and George wrestled together in the surf like hyperactive puppy dogs.
“I guess I might as well have let him throw me in.” Jen looked down at her clothes, now damp from pressing against D and being manhandled by George.
D loosened his arms, lowering Jen, but she tightened her legs around him. “Kiss me, you fool.”
He pressed his mouth to hers then pulled back, but not all the way. His lips still rested on hers. “Like that?”
“Uh-huh.” Jen nodded.
“Or like this?” He tilted his head and went in for another, longer kiss.
“That was pretty good,” Jen mumbled against his mouth as D started walking toward the house.
“Maybe you’ll like it better this way.” He tilted his head to the other side and kissed her again, still walking and holding her to him.
“Mmm…I’m going to need to see other way again.”
“If you insist.”
They carried on like that all the way across the sandy beach and along the trail. D didn’t stop kissing Jen until they reached the bridge and he set her down. “Careful of splinters,” he warned, “And watch out for the uneven boards. We don’t need you breaking your other ankle.”
“Hey!” Jen said in mock offence.
His steel blue eyes tightened and his mouth pressed in to a straight line. “I’m just looking out for you. I won’t let you get hurt like
Chapter 7
When D’s parents picked Jen and D up at the airport in Fort Myers, they greeted her like an old friend. She didn’t sense any lingering discomfort or judgement over their initial meeting. Big D and Jen had driven to the St. Louis airport where they’d met his younger brothers, Tim and George, and they’d all flown together to Florida.
“It’s so nice to have my little birdies all in the same nest,” Mrs. Spencer said, giving each of her sons a second round of hugs. Winking at Jen, she added, “And it’ll be wonderful to have double the girl power on this trip.”
They drove to the large, three-bedroom condo with beach access that the Spencers rented each year. The unit was bright and airy with modern, beachy décor. Jen was given the small bedroom that was usually D’s. For this trip, he’d sleep on the trundle in the den. After stowing their bags in their rooms and changing into shorts, D led Jen over a narrow, weather-beaten bridge to a sandy path that eventually opened to the beach. They walked along the edge of the water, holding hands and soaking in the heat. Jen had never been to this part of Florida before and was amazed by the blankets of shells lying in strips across the sand. She stopped often to scoop up a handful and examine them closer.
Their quiet contentment was interrupted when the water around them exploded with splashes made by pounding feet. Tim and George had made their grand entrance into the Gulf of Mexico. Tim was tall and brawny, like D, while his fraternal twin’s leaner frame only topped Jen by a couple of inches. After getting pelted by bullets of cold saltwater, Big D tackled Tim into the surf, apparently forgetting he hadn’t yet changed into his swim trunks.
Jen screamed and ran to dry land when George made a move for her. He chased her down and grabbed her from behind, trapping her arms at her sides. She dug her feet into a pile of shells and sand as she struggled against him. He was surprisingly strong for a skinny guy. With his arms clamped around her, they made slow progress toward the water.
D rushed the beach to come to Jen’s rescue. George slackened his grip at his hulking brother’s approach, and Jen broke free. Squealing, she ran to her soaking wet boyfriend and jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist. George raced to the water.
With a firm arm around Jen, D spun toward the gulf, laughing and shouting, “Punks!” Tim and George wrestled together in the surf like hyperactive puppy dogs.
“I guess I might as well have let him throw me in.” Jen looked down at her clothes, now damp from pressing against D and being manhandled by George.
D loosened his arms, lowering Jen, but she tightened her legs around him. “Kiss me, you fool.”
He pressed his mouth to hers then pulled back, but not all the way. His lips still rested on hers. “Like that?”
“Uh-huh.” Jen nodded.
“Or like this?” He tilted his head and went in for another, longer kiss.
“That was pretty good,” Jen mumbled against his mouth as D started walking toward the house.
“Maybe you’ll like it better this way.” He tilted his head to the other side and kissed her again, still walking and holding her to him.
“Mmm…I’m going to need to see other way again.”
“If you insist.”
They carried on like that all the way across the sandy beach and along the trail. D didn’t stop kissing Jen until they reached the bridge and he set her down. “Careful of splinters,” he warned, “And watch out for the uneven boards. We don’t need you breaking your other ankle.”
“Hey!” Jen said in mock offence.
His steel blue eyes tightened and his mouth pressed in to a straight line. “I’m just looking out for you. I won’t let you get hurt like
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