Behind His Lens(50)

“He sounds like a great dad,” I murmur.

Turning back to look out through the window, she mumbles, “I thought so too.”

“When did he pass away?”

She pauses a beat too long before answering, and I realize I’m once again treading on thin ice with her.

“Four years ago,” she says finally before turning toward me. “Could I read that book now?”

…

We end up reclining our chairs and reading in silence for a while. Every now and then she gasps quietly, completely lost in her own world, and I can’t help but watch her. Does she always get carried away in the books she reads, or only in thrillers? Either way, it’s adorable. When her eyes grow wide and she mumbles “no way” under her breath, I can’t resist the urge to make her show me what part she’s on. Every time she angles the book toward me and points her finger to the sentence. I read the passage and give her a knowing glance before letting her get back to it.

Eventually, we sleep on and off for a few hours. Every time I wake up, Charley is sleeping soundlessly. She’s wrapped in the blanket and pillow that the airline supplied us, but her blonde hair shimmers on top of the drab, gray wool. When we first went to sleep she was leaning away, toward the window, but I guess she had moved closer while I napped because her sweet face angles toward me now.

Bright sunlight streams through the window covers, highlighting a piece of wavy blonde hair that lies across her eyelid. I reach over to push it away, watching her peaceful inhales and exhales. When my hand touches her, I expect her to stir, but she hums and pushes her cheek against my palm affectionately. The act is so innocent and I momentarily lose myself in her. Instead of pulling away, I leave my hand there— cupping her cheek and running my thumb gently along the soft skin of her cheekbone. The movements lull me back to sleep.

When I wake an hour later, my hand has fallen down to cup her neck. A small smile forms on my lips even before I blink to find her blue eyes staring back at me in amusement.

“Hi,” she whispers.

I smile lazily, blinking my eyelids open.

“I thought your hand was part of my dream.” Her words hold so much promise.

“Were you dreaming about me, Charley?” I ask with a dark tone.

She sucks in her bottom lip coyly and nods but never looks away. Maybe she’s slowly beginning to trust me?

I lean forward until my lips brush her earlobe. “You were cuddled against the seat facing me; I thought you wanted me to touch you.”

She blushes and laces her fingers with mine over her neck. We sit frozen, drowning in one another, and enjoying the moment until her breathing changes and I feel her pulse quicken beneath my hand.

“I was mad at you,” she pauses. “I’m still mad at you, for interfering with my career.”

“I’ll never do it again. I honestly didn’t think about it from your perspective. I thought you’d be happy about it.”

She nods and her chin brushes against my hand. “I am. I’m confused, yes, but overall, I’m happy about being here.”

“With me?”

Her breath hits the side of my face as I listen to her ragged inhales.

“Yes.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Charley

The hotel is beyond my wildest expectations. Although, you can hardly even refer to it as a hotel— that insinuates a multistory building with hundreds of rooms. The Kaunaou is an intimate resort, boasting fewer than fifty guests at a time, with a staff member dedicated to every suite. Our crew makes up more than half of the rooms, but the other patrons look like well-to-do families from all around the world. I wonder if they knew a swimsuit photo shoot would infiltrate their vacation?

I wasn’t sure what to expect for the room situations, but it turns out that while some of the crew is sharing rooms, the models and important staff members get to enjoy the luxury of having their own suite. I’m smiling at the thought of how good it’ll feel to sleep in a luxurious bed later when Jude strolls over to me with two room keys in hand. They aren’t the standard electronic cards; they’re intricate gold keys attached to a sand dollar key chain. Immediately, I wonder how long it’ll be before I lose mine.

“Suites 11 and 12,” he gloats, holding out one of the keys to our adjacent rooms.

“Coincidence?” I ask with a wink.

His delectable lips twist up into a smirk. “I think you know the answer to that.”