Marin sat on a lounge chair under a huge sun umbrella. Both Sojo and Geneva would have her hide if she went back with any kind of tan or sunburn. Slathered in sunscreen and hiding under the protection of the umbrella, she felt confident she’d avoid incurring their wrath and she was quite comfortable. The heat of the day made her lazy, and when Sebastien brought her some tea, she guzzled almost half the glass before stopping.
“You should have said you were thirsty.” He sat at the foot of the chaise, his eyes on the crowd rather than her. But he had his hand on her ankle and the way his thumb kept rubbing over her skin was doing things that were a little crazy for such an innocuous touch.
“What were you and Zach talking about?” she asked.
Sebastien sent her a quick look. “Nothing important.”
“He looked pretty intense.” From behind the protective shield of her glasses, Marin was able to look at Zach and she saw him glancing at them again. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him eying them strangely. She doubted it would be the last, either.
Zach was always trying to play the hero. He’d been like that as long as she’d known him.
“He’s just being Zach. Abby might have hinted that we were . . . involved. He’s protective of you, you know.” Sebastien crooked a grin at her. “If he gives me trouble, it’s not a problem. I did it to him first.”
She might have asked about that if Denise hadn’t come toward them in the next moment, carrying two plates. “Here. I know you two are on a job, but you can still eat. Once I heard you were coming out, I asked Abby to make sure there would be something you could both eat.”
“I’m not supposed to be a bean pole, Mom.” Sebastien studied the pile of greens on his plate, but grinned at her. “At least I got some chicken.”
“Abby made it so you know you’ll like it.”
“You made her cook for her own birthday party?” Marin laughingly accepted the plate.
Denise waved a hand. “Fine, she didn’t cook it. Her staff did. She’s had to expand, did you hear?”
Marin nodded, stabbing at a fat strawberry with a fork. “She’s pretty pleased with it, but I think she’s done growing. She’ll have to start turning people down.”
“That’s the life of a successful businesswoman.” Denise sat in the chair nearest them, gazing out over the throng. The only ones missing were the twins—Travis had claimed work, as he always did. Trey also had work, but then there was his family. He had a deadline and Ressa hadn’t been able to get off work, so they’d called in the night before. “She’ll decide she wants to expand or she’ll decide she’s happy where she is and as much as she hates turning people down, that’s what she’ll have to do.”
Denise’s blue eyes, eyes she’d passed on to her boys, looked bright and happy. “You heard about Trey and Ressa’s pregnancy, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. He called me.” Sebastien nodded.
“Ressa sent me a text. She’s a wonderful lady—exactly what Trey needed after . . .” Marin stopped, sighing. Trey’s first wife had died in childbirth and it had seemed as though he’d never emerge from the dark depression that had gripped him. Ressa had turned his life upside down and he was that much happier for it now. “If only you can get somebody to have that kind of effect on Travis.”
“Humph.” Denise blew out a harsh breath through her nostrils. “I think that boy will need the earth to open up under his feet before he gets a clue. Kind of like you, Sebastien.”
Sebastien jerked his head up, the fork in his hand almost slipping. He had a mouth full of food and he couldn’t say anything with his mother sitting there—she’d get on him for that. Hurriedly, he chewed. “What? I don’t . . .” He stopped, shaking his head. Jabbing his fork toward his mother, he said, “You worry about Travis all you want. He needs it more than I ever did. He needs it more than Trey did.”
Denise’s mouth went white around the corners, but all she said was, “I’ll worry as I want to, thank you very much.”
“I think that’s a mother’s prerogative,” Marin said, kicking Sebastien lightly when he would have said anything else.
He caught her ankle and squeezed.
It didn’t go unnoticed by Denise, either.
Marin caught the speculation in her eyes and felt herself blushing and damn it all, that only made it worse. Sebastien noticed, too, and he gave Marin a quick look. She read everything in that look and tried to keep her cool as he smoothed his hand up from her ankle to her knee. “You know, Mom . . . there’s actually something I wanted to tell you and Dad. You think he’s got time?”
Denise’s eyes widened a fraction. “Well, I’ll just go and get him, whether he has time or not. Is this private?”
Marin snorted. “Nothing stays private in this family for long, does it?”
“Well . . . not generally.” Denise laughed as she rose, dusting off her long, rose-colored skirt. “I’ll be back.”
Abigale wandered over and nudged Marin’s knee, sitting on the other side of her. “You know, it’s a good thing the chaise is a large one,” Marin said ruefully, eying her best friend.