That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(61)

Brig chimes in this time. “It means your husband is starting to cook like you, charring the hell out of everything. Poor Ren over there caught five fish, and Beck overcooked every single one of them to the point of being inedible. Hell, we’re all going to be smelling like burnt fish for days.”

It’s true. I can still smell it on me. I’ll be taking a shower tonight; hell if I’m going to go to bed in the same tent as Ren stinking like this.

Not even showing one ounce of remorse, Beck shrugs. “My wife needed assistance in the tent, so I went to help her. I’m not going to apologize for being the decent guy and helping a woman out.”

“She needed help taking her shirt off,” Reid deadpans, clearly still upset over the fish.

“And believe me, I really wanted to give her a hand.”

We all groan, except for Ren, who seems giddy, grinning over the “romantic” gesture.

Diverting the topic away from Beck and the burnt fish, Ren asks, “So did you all grow up together? Besides you, Beck. I heard you actually lived in Los Angeles as well.”

Rylee wipes her fingers on her napkin. “We did grow up together. Oddly, even though I could work anywhere, I really had no desire to leave Port Snow. I liked it, my friends were there, and the beach has always been an inspiration.”

“Not to mention her sex chair,” Brig cuts in. “Did she tell you about the sex chair in the coffee shop?”

“Brig, I swear to God, I’m going to punch you in the neck if you call it that one more time. It’s not a sex chair, but yes, I told Ren that idiots like you call it that.”

“Is it or is it not the place where you write all of your sex scenes?”

She purses her lips and looks off to the side. “It’s a comfortable chair.”

The picnic table erupts with laughter. Rylee crosses her arms over her chest. “I hate all of you.”

“Even me?” Beck asks, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Especially you. Poor Ren has to put up with all you idiots. You’ve lured her into your little web of friends, and now she has no other choice but to hang out with you fools. I’m going to start stealing her away, taking her to my house for drinks and girl time.”

“That sounds amazing, actually,” Ren chimes in. “I can’t remember the last time I had a girls’ night.”

“Well then, it’s settled—we’ll have one when we get back. I’ll fill you in on the real gossip, not the crap you hear from random locals here and there.”

“Oh, I think I’m good on the gossip for now.” Ren shoots a glance at me before turning back to the fire.

Brig nods. “Smart—the less you know, the better. Which reminds me . . .” He leans forward and practically whispers, “Have you heard anything about me in particular? I would like the chance to defend my honor.”

“Me too.” Reid raises his hand.

“I haven’t heard much,” Ren answers with a sly grin.

“Much? That means you’ve heard at least something,” Reid says. “Go on, spill it.”

Ren shifts on the bench, her shoulder grazing mine briefly. “Are you sure you want to hear it? You might get upset.”

“Can’t be anything that I haven’t heard already. Give us what you’ve got,” Brig says.

Under the table, she nudges me with her elbow, almost as if to say, Watch this. I have a feeling we’re about to get a little bit of a show, and I couldn’t be more excited. I fold my arms over my chest and lean back so I can get a good view of both Brig and Reid. This is going to be good.

“Okay, well, when I was at the general store the other day, getting ice cream—mint chocolate chip, to be exact, which is my favorite by far—”

“Mine too,” Beck cuts in. “So fucking smooth.”

“Dude, we’re not talking about ice cream right now,” Reid says. “This is serious business.”

Beck just leans back and chuckles, wrapping his arm around Rylee.

Ren continues with her story, the smirk on her face never leaving. Damn, she’s so not a good liar, but the guys are falling for every second of it.

“So you were at the general store,” Reid prompts.

“Yes, and I was making my way through the aisles when I heard two women talking about one of the Knightly brothers. Naturally, I stopped my cart and pretended to look over the Pop-Tarts while I listened.”

“Excellent detective work. Well done. Breakfast pastries to the rescue,” Brig says, getting into the story.

“I couldn’t catch much, but what I heard wasn’t really flattering. They were talking about . . . Reid, and some kind of mole on your leg with a black hair sticking straight out of it. She said it kept poking her while you were fooling around. All she could think the whole time was if the mole was growing with each pass her leg made over it.”

Reid’s mouth drops open, but before he can say anything, Ren turns to Brig and continues her lie, her fucking fantastic lie.

“And when I was over at the harbor, doing a little reading, I heard another set of girls talk about Brig, the guy who runs the automobile shop.”

“What did they say?” Brig is practically on top of Ren, waiting impatiently for the rest of the story.

With a finger to the sky, Reid interrupts. “Uh, I think we need to clear the air about the whole mole thing.”