Rebound (Boomerang #2)(25)

He pats the car twice and steps back. “You should go.”

I spend half the drive to Mia’s thinking of Grey as a lead singer. The second half, I spend thinking of all the ways Alison is totally different.

How is that possible? I’ve only known the girl a week. Granted, we got a jump on things at the Gallianos, but . . . how?

Man. It’s been such a long time since a girl’s been on my mind like this.

Such a long f*cking time since I’ve felt this.

I don’t want it.





Chapter 13



Alison


It’s 11 a.m., and my mom’s on Bloody Mary number three. Which isn’t like her and which does little for her balance as Weston, one of the two people crewing the Ali Cat, helps her from dock to deck.

The day is warm, with a light Santa Ana wind blowing in from the northeast to chase away a wispy fog. But my mother’s bundled up as though preparing to spear polar bears in the tundra. Which is funny because Vivian Quick knows how to dress—how to behave—for literally every occasion. It’s like she has a Social Perfection flowchart stored in her brain. Get her on a boat, though, and she’s always a step away from a third-degree sunburn or a first-degree disaster of some kind. It’s a little unnerving, given how placid and even-keeled she usually is.

“I’m going to call Catherine before we’re out of cell phone range,” she tells me.

“Tell her to get her ass here for a visit,” Dad says. But we all know that won’t happen. My sister is busy with her perfect life in Dallas. It’s a miracle if I can get her to return a text.

I find myself wondering what Adam will think of my parents. I shouldn’t care. It doesn’t matter. But watching my mother weave off to the galley makes me feel anxious and vulnerable, like someone’s peeled away a few layers of my skin to expose all my nerves.

I guess that someone is Adam. I shouldn’t want him as much as I do. I shouldn’t want this deal to go through so I’ll have an excuse to see more of him. I should want it for the family, to prove to my father that I’m capable of taking the helm. Not because some fanciful recess of my mind wants a replay of Halloween night, when our bodies fit together like two pieces of a whole, when his body, his strong, warm hands, his smile, and the depth beneath all of it drove me to a place I’d never been before, made me feel wild and so absolutely, perfectly, right.

My father leaps aboard and gives Weston a slap on the back that practically sends him into the ocean. “Looking good,” he pronounces after casting a sharp-eyed gaze around the deck. The sleek lines of reddish teak and white fiberglass gleam in the sunlight. Every surface glitters; every cushion and container fits perfectly in place.

As always, I feel the anticipation of movement, the power of the engines rumbling beneath my canvas boat shoes. Right away, I perch on a chair to pull them off so I can run my bare feet over the sun-warmed wooden deck. I love that feeling.

Usually, I’d be in the kitchen, helping Sandra, Weston’s wife, prepare snacks or blend up pitchers of frothy daiquiris. Or I’d be in the tiny cavelike game room, pulling waterlogged paperbacks from the shelves to curl up with when I get tired of snorkeling. But today, I’m meant to be front and center to await our guests. Adam and some girl. Julia.

I get why he’s bringing her. To remind us both that this is business, a social exchange between two potential partners. I thought of bringing someone too, as I said I might do, but my father nixed that, told me to keep focused on Adam, on business.

God, won’t this be fun?

“Supposed to be choppy out there,” my father says, plopping down next to me. “Can’t wait to watch your mother handle six-foot swells. Especially if she keeps going the way she is.”

“You might not want to go that way yourself,” I say, glancing down at the tumbler filled with ice and bourbon in his hands.

He grins and lifts it to his lips. The ice clinks against his teeth, and the sound makes my shoulders tense.

“Don’t worry. I won’t get sloppy. Trust me.”

That phrase: Trust me. Especially from him. I can’t think about that. I want to trust. And I want to be someone who never damaged another person’s trust.

I get up, needing to expel my nervous energy, and go in search of something to do while I wait. At this point, I’d swim under the boat to scrape barnacles off the hull if it meant fast-forwarding through the awkward face-to-face with Adam’s date, the stilted introductions, the casting off into a day where every hour will feel like it’s made of six thousand minutes.

I’m about to head down the stairs to the accommodations deck in search of sunscreen, when my father gives a sharp whistle.

“They’re here,” he says. “Look alive, Alison.”

My stomach does a hard tumble when I follow his gaze down the long dock to see Adam coming toward us. It’s not him, though, not this time. It’s the girl walking beside him.

Not some mystery date but Mia.

He’s brought Mia with him. To join us on my parents’ boat, for an entire day.

Mia with her wild curls. Her famous mother. Her ease with seemingly every single thing.

I know she can’t really be his date, so why is she here? And has she told him about Ethan and me? Is this some kind of weird power play?

That doesn’t seem like Adam. He’s not a game player. He’s direct and goes for what he wants.