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More importantly, why did it feel important that I avoided Shiraz until then?
Our goodbye of yesterday morning had been a perfect way to wrap things up. A few hours of solid sleep. Another hot, heated trip to fuck-me-like-there’s-no-tomorrow land. A passionate kiss that never strayed into melancholy, since he had a country to run and I had a life to unstick from the Hold button. Or was it still on Play, with me longing to loop the scene over and over?
And weren’t they the same damn thing?
“Yeah.” I uttered it with dawning comprehension, though Ez took it as his response, as well.
“So…” he started again. “Guess you’re having a little more island fun whether you like it or not, darling.”
Soft laugh. Ezra knew how to drag me out of my head, even if I went kicking and screaming. “I’m actually helping with the clean-up. You’d be stunned what this thing did in just a few hours.”
“Oy,” he muttered, before audibly brightening. “Hey! Did you get to ride in one of those cool motorized raft things?”
Spurting giggle. “No.”
“See any cars in trees?”
“Errr…no.”
“Boats having sex?”
“The hell?”
“Hmmm. You’re right. Take that one back. If the boats are having sex, they probably don’t want anyone finding them.”
Another laugh, much fuller. “Just when I think I’m the biggest dork on the planet…”
“I was actually just looking for a smooth transition slide.”
My humor faded. “Uh-oh.”
“Oh, come on,” he lobbed. “You knew it was coming.” A knowing grunt. “You don’t drop a bomb like ‘I rode the royal scepter’ then not expect the Ezra Lowe inquisition.”
“The royal scepter?” I shook my head. “Did you really just go there?”
“Hey. Be thankful I chose ‘inquisition’ instead of ‘probe’.”
“Oh my God.”
“Hmmm. That one rolled off quite nicely,” he pushed on, unapologetic. “But inquiring minds need to know how many times it got screamed in your bed.” A scandalous gasp. “Or was it his? Oh, tell me it was. The royal beaudoir. God, I’ll bet it was gorgeous. What’s the thread count on the sheets? Were they like sleeping on butter? Did you sneak any snaps?”
“Stop.” I didn’t know whether to laugh or groan, so I mushed them into one.
“Sorry,” he relented. “You’re right.”
Whooshing sigh. “Thank you.”
“I mean, who cares about the sheets? It’s what happened between them. And do not skimp the details, woman. Is he an animal? I’ll bet he’s an animal. And do you think you’ll do it again, with your indefinite delay there?”
“Sheez-ussss, Ez.”
“Hey,” he slung back. “Fair question!”
“Oh yeah?” I pushed to my feet, stretching the kinks in my back. Two days of clearing trash, palm fronds, and driftwood were a much different workout than Zumba class at The Beach Burn. “And how’s that?”
“Hmmm.” It was shockingly thoughtful, in light of his more recent tracks toward sheets and wildlife. “Intuition, I suppose. But while the man said all but fifty words to me yesterday, there was something in his voice…”
I stopped in the middle of the clearing. Was grateful the wind kicked up, blowing hair into my face, giving a real distraction from the painful skip in my pulse. “Something like what?”
