Heat Stroke (Beach Kingdom, #2)(2)

Slowly, Marcus crossed his arms, looking suspicious. “Wait a minute…”

Andrew feigned being conflicted, a favor for which Jamie would definitely be paying for at a later date. “We can’t have that. Jamie, take chair one. Marcus, you’re on twelve.”

All right, so Jamie’s mental fist pump wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as it should be, especially when Marcus’s linebacker shoulders deflated. He needed to distance himself, though. They still had two months left of the summer ahead and Jamie was beginning to grow way too accustomed to having Marcus around. Hearing his ridiculous…fine, kind of refreshing…take on everything. And he couldn’t get used to that. Marcus wouldn’t acknowledge why he wanted to be around Jamie and probably never would.

Jamie might only be twenty-six years old, but he didn’t wait around for miracles to happen anymore.

“Wait. Before you go…” Marcus said, holding up a finger as he returned to his locker and took out a plastic cup of green juice. Holding the cup to his chest, Marcus waited for the rest of the lifeguards to leave before he approached Jamie again. “I made you this.”

“What is it?”

Marcus tapped the lid with his finger. “Juice.”

“I can see that. What kind?”

“Lots of greens for energy. Lemon, kale, parsley, ginger, spinach.” He pushed it higher toward Jamie’s mouth. “You have to work two jobs today.”

Jamie ignored the ridiculous flip flop in his stomach and took a sip, expecting it to taste terrible. Somehow it didn’t. “That’s…really good. Thanks.”

An exhale left Marcus in a rush, like he’d been nervous about Jamie’s verdict. This was when Jamie should have broken eye contact with the big muscle head and turned to leave the lifeguard hut. Instead, he found himself hesitating because Marcus was back to frowning.

“You sure you don’t want to sit closer today?” Marcus asked.

With a muttered prayer for the return of his sanity, Jamie shoved one of Marcus’s shoulders. Don’t dwell on how solidly he’s built. Or how Marcus’s eyes followed the action, as if entranced by Jamie touching him voluntarily.

“Relax, Diesel. We’re both working tonight.” He ignored Rory and Andrew’s rapt attention. “I’ll see you then.”

Marcus’s too-masculine face split with a grin. “Okay, Jamie.”

*

Marcus flipped the walkie-talkie end over end in his hand, humming the jingle from a car insurance commercial that had been stuck in his head for a week. This direction of the beach was mostly retirees and they never ventured deep enough into the ocean to cause any excitement, although the senior in the purple bonnet and matching bathing suit was playing Frank Sinatra a little loud on her portable radio.

He blew out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. After making sure no one was watching, he made his pecs take turns flexing—right, left, right, left—but even that didn’t lift his mood. Or distract him from the person who seemed to remain front and center in his thoughts lately.

Jamie Prince.

Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Jamie Prince?

That was a mystery he was determined to solve and it required spending a lot of time with Jamie. How else was he going to figure out why Jamie popped into his head at the weirdest times? Like when he was soaping himself up in the shower.

Marcus cleared his throat hard and shot a glance at the closest lifeguard chair, as if the girl occupying it might hear his thoughts. He could not have that. This whole thing with Jamie was probably just a couple of wires crossed in his brain. Not an unusual occurrence for Marcus “Diesel” O’Shaughnessy, he’d tell you that much. He was famous among his family for missing flights, not because he’d overslept, but because twice he’d mistaken the flight number for the time of departure.

It got worse.

When he was enrolled in the Nassau Community College, he’d spent the whole first semester of his freshman year in the wrong classes. Why? Because he’d been following the sample schedule from the school website, instead of the one he’d gotten in the mail. He’d found it roughly six months later under a stack of Men’s Health magazines and promptly dropped out so he’d never have to explain what actually happened to anyone’s face.

Without college as an option, he’d spent the last half a decade training at the local CrossFit gym. But ever since getting his lifeguard certification and taking summers off from training to work the beach, he counted the days until summer rolled around. Every year, it got a little harder to wait for June when he’d walk into the locker room and see Jamie.

Marcus tapped his fingers on his thigh. So he had a man crush. Didn’t males get those on each other all the time? There were entire football stadiums of dudes wearing their heroes’ jerseys, chanting their names and mooning over them on flat-screen televisions. And Marcus occasionally jerked off while thinking of Jamie’s mouth. Or the way his dark hair sometimes fell over his forehead. Or the way his triceps winked when he slid a drink across the bar.

Same thing.

Sweat broke out across Marcus’s forehead and it had nothing to do with the sun beating down on him from the cloudless blue sky above. This infatuation with Jamie…it wasn’t the same thing as a man crush, was it? He might have gotten away with bullshitting himself at the beginning of the summer, but the more time he spent with Jamie, the more he kind of needed to be around him. Marcus couldn’t explain it. If a day passed without him seeing Jamie, it wasn’t complete.