Sweet Cheeks(36)

“And off screen.” I chuckle but question why I care. Jesus, Saylor, stop asking.

“Is there a reason you care?” He steals the thought from my head and doesn’t stop staring, so I shift my gaze to the ocean ahead, wondering the same thing.

The difference is I know why. I care because of that fluttery feeling I get when he smiles at me, the warmth that flushed through me when he put his arm around me on the way out of the little restaurant where we grabbed a quick bite to eat. I just don’t want to admit it.

“No. Not at all.” Uncomfortable under the weight of his stare, I let the silence fall between us. A steel drum is heard somewhere in the distance. The intermittent buzz of tourists’ laughter or shuffling of footsteps meandering through this sleepy Caribbean town can be heard behind us. I watch some local children play in the water, some in suits, some not, as their parents watch from the ocean’s edge.

“It’s nothing serious,” he says unexpectedly. “In fact I haven’t seen her in a few weeks.”

“Huh.” I let the comment settle between us, enjoying the fact that he didn’t have some huge farewell session with some beautiful starlet before coming to hang out with me.

“You’re awfully quiet, Ships.”

I can’t help my smile. The nickname not so bothersome now. “Yeah. I’m just trying really hard to enjoy tonight. To not think about the next few days. To—”

“Enjoy the company of the handsome man beside you.”

I laugh out loud and love that he can do that to me. Just like he did earlier as we sat in the local recommended favorite, Fresh Catch, while we ate our appetizers and sipped our cocktails. When we talked about our childhood escapades and arguments, steering clear of everything that happened after there was an us, and the aftermath I still don’t understand. I had promised myself I wouldn’t bring it up again while here.

It’s the least I can do considering he’s here, doing who knows what for me in this atypical situation.

I look over to him—wind-ruffled hair and dimples deepening—and think he’s so much more than handsome. He’s comfort and my past, mysterious yet familiar, funny and yet aloof.

“Yes. That too.”

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.” My too quick response says I’m anything but. His chuckle tells me he doesn’t buy it. “You know me, I’m not good with the unpredictable. With putting myself out there when I know everyone in the room will be looking at me.”

There’s an intensity in his eyes that unnerves me. Like he’s searching for an answer I can’t give him. “The girl I used to know didn’t care who was looking.” His voice is quiet, and I hate the urge to immediately refute him. To be defensive. Especially when I’ve wondered the same thing as of late. Distance from Mitch has only proven how much the time spent with him had changed me. Toned down my personality.

I shrug. Almost in an apology to him when it should really be to myself. “Maybe it just depends on who’s looking, I guess.”

He licks his lips and nods his head as if he understands, but the shift of his eyes and set of his shoulders say differently. Hayes lifts his face to look at me again. “Well, I guess I should warn you, you’re with me so don’t worry, when people are staring, it’s at me.” I think he’s dead serious at first, but when he cracks a smile, I can see he’s trying to put me at ease.

“Ah, I see. The famous Hollywood actor,” I tease but know he’s right. The glances at dinner. The interruptions on the boardwalk for a quick picture. I truly appreciate his attempt to lessen my anxiety.

He blows on his knuckles and pretends to polish them on his chest and winks at me. “So remember every time you think they’re looking at you—”

“They’re really looking at you,” I finish for him.

“Exactly.” He nods for emphasis. “And for your information, I have a very detailed schedule of how the next few days are going to go if that will help you with your need for predictability.”

I jerk my head in reaction. “There’s a schedule?”

“Yes. There was a schedule for the wedding handed to me when I checked in. It’s all mapped out for us. Golf for the guys and salon day for the ladies tomorrow.” He rolls his eyes. “No worries, I promised you no golf, and I mean it. We’re not going. We’ll make ’em sweat. Give them a chance to gossip about the rumor we’re here. Did you bring the invitation like I asked?”

“Yeah. Why?” I narrow my eyes.

“Because I bet you they never told Uptight Ursula they invited you. They did it to mock you, never expecting you to show. I want to make sure you have it on you in case she attempts to kick you out—”

“Hayes?” I have to get something off my chest.

“Yeah.” Eyes looking. Expression perplexed.

“I’ve thought a lot about this, and I just want to make sure you understand that I’m not here to ruin their wedding. That’s not the type of person I am. Every little girl dreams about their wedding day and who am I to say that Mitch isn’t Sarah’s Prince Charming? Just because he wasn’t mine, doesn’t mean he’s not hers.” I twist my lips, look down at where my fingers are drawing aimless designs in the sand before looking back up to him. “The only reason I’m here is to prove I’m okay with it. To show that leaving Mitch was a good decision for both of us. He’s happy and marrying someone else. Only someone who is ashamed runs and hides, and I am not that. I want my business to thrive and if there’s a chance that coming here—to be smiling and supportive and giddily confident—will prove them otherwise, then I have to take it. If I hadn’t come and Sweet Cheeks failed, then I’d always wonder . . . and I’m sick of wondering things.”