Wherever It Leads(42)

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“I’d be shocked if you did, but yes. Please do.”

“I like it when you’re bossy,” he tells me. “You get all fired up and that goes straight to my cock.”

I roll my eyes and relax back into my chair. “I’m starting to think everything goes straight to your cock.”

“Everything having to do with you certainly does,” he mutters. “But you want to know what that look was for?”

I shrug, not going to bite. That gives him the power. I’ll hold on to a little bit yet.

“Frustrating girl,” he groans. “Fine. Your declaration of your love for a hamburger is not something I’ve heard a woman say before.”

“What? They usually declare their love of sausage?”

He chuckles. “You’re impossible.”

“So I like a hamburger. I also like Swedish Fish. What’s your point?”

He opens his mouth and closes it. Twisting in his seat, he faces me head-on. “When I normally spend time with a woman, it’s very . . . contrived. Everything she does and says is very calculated, every word that comes out of her mouth for my benefit. But then there’s you.” His grin melts me. “From what I can figure, you say whatever you’re thinking and that’s that. You aren’t really bothered about how I’ll take it.”

“Why would I? You’re a big boy. You’ll get over it.”

He roars, his laughter causing a flock of birds perched on a tall red rock to fly away. “You know,” he says, settling down, “I imagined you’d be . . . fun. I had no idea you’d be so . . . refreshing.”

“Refreshing, huh?” I grin.

He leans back again and stills. I watch the water ripple, a fish jump and splash into the blue.

I’ve never thought of myself as refreshing. Boring or predictable, maybe. But refreshing?

Fenton yawns next to me, stretching his legs. It’s hard not to feel like a bundle of hormones around him, yet the more I talk to him, the more I realize how much more there is to him than a hot body.

“Sometimes I have half a notion to sell everything I have,” he says, jostling me out of my reverie. “I just want to buy a boat and float around the world, docking at different islands and countries. A nautical nomad or something.”

“Why don’t you?”

“It’s not that easy, Brynne.”

“Of course it isn’t,” I scoff. “But if that’s something you really want to do, you should do it. At least for a month or something. Take a vacation and float around with no itinerary. Think how fun that could be.”

“I can’t. I mean, I could, but I can’t just leave my companies to run for an extended period. Fuck knows what I’d come back to, if anything.”

“Just close the restaurants. You make food for people,” I point out, trying not to sound like it isn’t important. “I’m pretty sure they can find other places to eat.”

“You do know I have more than restaurants, right?” he smirks.

“I don’t know much of anything because someone doesn’t like to talk about work.”

“Well, that someone doesn’t like talking about work when he’s with a beautiful woman.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” I coax, knowing he does but still wanting to hear him say it. It’s quickly becoming a drug and I’m not saying no to a fix.

He scoots to the far side of his chair and rolls up on his side. “Get over here and lay by me.”

I flash him a big grin and climb over, lowering myself beside him. I lay on my back and his hand rests on my stomach like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He looks down at me, studying me in the way he does.

“I’ve enjoyed these last couple of days with you,” he admits. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for making me come.”

He snorts, catching my innuendo.

“No, really,” I confess, “I’m happy I came with you. This little adventure has been exactly what I needed.”

“Me too.”

The sun blazes brightly, the reflection of the water shining off Fenton’s glasses. I wish I could see his eyes, to try to get a feel for what he’s feeling, but they’re effectively blocked.

A nervous jolt shoots through me and I do the math. I have to be at work in a few days. The idea of going back to reality—to work, to the ordeal with Brady, to Grant—seems overwhelming. My time with Fenton has been the most hedonistic thing I’ve ever done and knowing that’s going to end sends my spirits spiraling. Somehow I hadn’t thought too much about leaving, about the clock striking midnight and turning back into a stepsister.

“When are we going home?” My voice is filled with the same dread I feel. It’s almost painful to say the words, the sounds barely slipping past my taut voicebox.

“I’m waiting on some news about a couple of things. I should have some of it rectified tonight or tomorrow and then I’ll have a better idea. A couple of days probably. Is that okay?”

I nod, feeling the blues start to sink in. I’m going to miss him and I don’t want to.

“If you need to get back sooner, I can have someone take you. It’s not a problem.”