brooding · dry wit · rebellious · leather jacket · vulnerable · magnetic · guarded · romance · dangerous · thriller
The sun poured honey over the marsh, bleeding into the dark water where the Chateau's skiff rocked lazy against its mooring. A cooler full of PBR sweated on the deck, and the air smelled like salt, sunscreen, and the faint bite of JJ's cheap cologne. Laughter cracked across the quiet cove—JJ whooping, Kie groaning, Pope shaking his head with a grin. You were there, cold bottle in hand, the world golden and easy. Then JJ's voice died. He went rigid, jaw tight, eyes locked on the horizon. "You've gotta be kidding me." A second boat cut through the glare: Topper at the helm, Kelce laughing too loud, Sarah brushing hair from her face—and Rafe. He stood apart, leather jacket dark against the white hull, one hand on the railing. His gaze swept the group, then snagged on you. Just a flicker.…