Sweet Cheeks(37)

My words trail off, my voice breaking on the last few words. I hate that I brought the conversation back to where I swore to myself it wouldn’t go—to where everything seems to lead these days—to thoughts of us back then and the what-ifs I’ve lived with.

We consider each other in the dimming light, each passing second feeling like it’s erasing the years since we’ve seen each other. Brown eyes to blue. His silence to my comments.

“I knew you were still the same girl I used to know.” His voice is a murmur. I look down to catch a dart of his tongue to lick those lips of his, and then meet his gaze again. “I know what your intent is, Saylor. You’re too kind to want anything less. You’re selfless. Forgiving.”

“I thought you said I hold grudges.”

“Only with me.” He smirks. “You always did. Let’s hope I’m on my best behavior this weekend so you don’t hold any with me by the time this is over.”

“Good plan.” I laugh again and realize it seems like forever since I laughed this much over absolutely nothing. It’s a good feeling.

“Getting back to plans—”

“Ah yes . . . tomorrow, we’re ditching the salon and golf because your nails are already done and golf is boring as f*ck. So we’ll do our own thing. I have to run some lines for a part I’m screen-testing for when I return and then we have the rehearsal dinner that they’ve invited their guests to. The wedding the following day. The reception. Then—”

“No more.” I cover my ears and laugh. “Thank you. Really. I’m relieved to know you have all the particulars of our schedule worked out. Seems like the normal wedding events. And those I know all too well. I can rest easier now.”

He chuckles and all of a sudden my back straightens. “That’s their schedule, Ships. Ours is a secret.” He abruptly stands and grabs my hand to pull me up. My body jolts at the connection that sitting side by side with him all this time has had buzzing just beneath the surface. As if knowing he was close enough to touch but not really touching was an awareness all in itself. I know he can feel it too. That I’m not alone. Because the words on his lips falter momentarily before he recovers. And a part of me wants to stay like this a bit longer but know it’s just that missed connection we lost so long ago that’s causing the sensations to simmer to the surface. Nostalgia. Muscle memory of the heart. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Go?”

“Yes. Go. It’ll be easier if you think of this whole trip as an adventure rather than their wedding.”

“And what? You’re my tour guide?”

“If that’s what you want to call me. I prefer cruise director though, considering we’re kind of stuck with the nautical theme, Ships.” He winks and holds his hand out.

“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes.

“Or captain.”

“You’re certifiable, you know that?” I shake my head and he pulls on my hand to help me stand.

“Quite possibly, but all that matters is I’m in charge of this schedule, and we need to get a move on it. Your adventure awaits.”

“And, oh captain, my captain, that adventure is what?” I drag my feet like a child, curious what he’s talking about but smiling nonetheless.

“Do you actually think I’m going to tell you?” He dazzles me with that smile I can’t resist. “Didn’t you know? Spontaneity is the best kind of adventure.”

Oh. Shit.





“No way. Uh-uh.” I try to step away but my back hits the unyielding wall of Hayes’s front. We’re pressed body to body and panic flickers through me.

“Remember what I said.” His voice is warm against my ear.

Spontaneity is the best kind of adventure, my ass. I tried to do this once before. On a double-dog dare at the age of sixteen. From him.

I turn around, a blatant rejection of Hayes’s idea of spontaneous fun. Of the stage before me, the people sitting in chairs around it, and the microphone and screen that will hold lyrics.

And yet when I do turn, I run smack dab into every long, lean, firm inch of him. My body reacts immediately to the feel of his. Hair stands up on the base of my neck. My nipples press against the smooth fabric of my bra and are more than aware of the warmth of his chest. My muscles tense everywhere.

All I can do is suck in my breath when his eyes hold mine. They’re full of the same mischief that paints his smile. “Remember that time at Wild Irish?”

“How could I forget?” Sneaking in the back door of the local bar a few towns over, feeling like we were so cool. The anxiety of being caught in a bar underage making the night that much more exhilarating. Hayes’s dare to go put my name in, take the stage, and perform a song of his choosing.

“Remember how much you had to psych yourself up to do it?” he murmurs. I can smell the hint of Red Stripe on his breath.

These are treacherous waters.

But it’s The Captain leading me into them.

I laugh. My body hums with awareness. He hasn’t stepped away. Hasn’t broken the connection between our bodies. And yet it’s probably because it’s crowded and he wants me to hear him. Regardless, every jostle of someone bumping into one of us, makes the awareness that much more.

“I remember. I spent all night freaked about it and just as I was walking up to the stage—”