My Killer Vacation(48)

“God no.” Water droplets fly in every direction when he shakes his head. “No. I definitely don’t want to talk about Dante.”

“Has he been calling you since we arrived?”

“Before we arrived. During. After. He won’t give up.”

“Give up on what? I thought you two were just friends?”

“We are,” Jude rushes to say, slicing a hand through the wind. “Friends. Nothing more. He’s straight, Taylor.”

“I know…”

When they were younger, that seemed to be a concrete truth.

As they grew up, got further into high school…the fact that Jude’s best friend dated girls exclusively didn’t seem like such a given. How could Dante date when he was always with Jude?

“Dude plays Goliath in the Phantom Five franchise. Last I heard, he was moving in with Ophelia Tan—his gorgeous co-star. There is no mistaking his preferences and I wouldn’t want to question them anyway. Dante is Dante. I would never want to change him. I just wish he would go live his incredible life and stop trying to…keep this going.”

I can’t hide my confusion. “Keep your friendship going?”

“It’s complicated, T.” He smiles to soften the steel in his tone. “Just trust me when I say it’s complicated.”

“Okay.” I nod, lay my head on his shoulder. “I’ll leave it alone.”

His cheek rests on the top of my head. “Thank you.” He’s quiet for several moments. “I like uncomplicated a lot better, anyway. You?”

Wiggling my bare toes in the sand, I consider the question. “I don’t know. I’ve been on dates with a lot of uncomplicated guys. They all have their tax portfolios and a best friend named Mark. They golf. They have a favorite dry cleaner. That’s what I wanted. Want. But…”

“The bounty hunter is messing with your head?”

“He’s like eating a spicy breakfast burrito after years of having oatmeal for breakfast.”

He wraps his arm around me tighter. “Dammit, right?”

“Yup. Dammit.”

“The worst part is…I like him. I like him. At first I thought he was flat out mean, but now I just find him honest. And when I think back to the dates I’ve been on with potential husband material, none of those conversations seem remotely authentic. I like being around Myles because I know exactly what I’m getting. He doesn’t lie. Ever. And so when he says something meaningful or kind or complimentary, it’s like…Christmas morning. That sounds so stupid—”

Someone clears their throat behind us.

My heart flies into my mouth, denial like a red-hot poker between my ribs.

Intuition is already telling me who just made that chugging sound.

And I’m right. It’s Myles.

The bounty hunter towers behind us, boots sunk partially into the sand. Scowling.

That scowl is all for me, but his eyes? Those are soft. Surprised. Vulnerable.

“Hey, man,” Jude says, finally breaking the awkward silence. Myles heard me. He obviously heard everything I said. Do I just adopt a new identity and join a commune now or what? How is this kind of thing usually handled? “Busy morning?”

Myles jerks out of his trance. Sort of. He’s still looking at me. “What?”

“I said…” Jude isn’t even bothering to suppress his smile. “Have you had a busy morning stalking my sister?”

“Protecting,” he bites off.

“Right.” Jude splits a look between the two of us. “Me and Taylor were just about to head up to the house and make some breakfast burritos.”

“Funny,” I mutter, finally gathering the wherewithal to stand up, dusting the sand off my butt. I face Myles reluctantly and it takes me a few beats to realize what’s different about him. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Usually they are confidently crossed or gesturing or making notes in his phone. But they just seem kind of lost in space right now. My embarrassment over being caught mooning over him—out loud—dissipates slightly. “Do you want to have breakfast burritos with us?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

I blink at his abrupt tone. Nod. Start walking toward the stairwell.

“I have a meeting at the police station later this morning. Ballistics report is finally in,” Myles explains, following me. “I need to get my ducks in a row first.”

“I understand,” I say, passing him a smile.

“I can’t tell if you mean that.”

“Our version of a breakfast burrito is basically everything that was in the taco last night, except the tortilla is soft and we add eggs,” Jude says. “Taylor never lets leftovers go to waste.”

“You can’t tell if I mean what?” I ask Myles, the three of us stopping at the base of the stairs.

The bounty hunter plants both hands on his hips, searches the sand, as if trying to find an explanation. “It seems like you’re not okay with me skipping burritos.”

I’m completely confused. “So what?”

Now he’s getting irritated. “So I just want to commence my day without you mad at me, Taylor. Is that so much to ask?”

“Since when do you care if I’m mad at you?”