Goosebumps cover my skin at the idea of Owen doing the salacious things to me that I read in my books.
“Sure,” I manage to say, hoping he doesn’t notice the way my breath hitches. “Also, I want to watch the sunset one night. Experiencing a sunset in the Caribbean is a bucket list item for me.”
“Then we’d better make sure you get that sunset,” he replies, giving me a boyish grin.
I really need to train my stomach to stop doing somersaults every time Owen looks at me like that. It’s becoming a real problem for me.
“Wait, should we even make plans?” I ask. “Aren’t we basically here for wedding stuff?
“Nah,” he shrugs. “The best part of being aguestat a destination wedding is that you only have to show up for the ceremony. The rest is just vacation.”
“True,” I agree with a nod. “So what day is the wedding?”
“Saturday night. The night before we head home.”
“Our last night here?”
“Yup,” he replies, popping thep. “I don’t think they really thought that part through.”
“Not at all,” I scoff. “Everyone’s going to be exhausted… but also ready to leave. I guess it kind of makes sense.”
Owen opens his mouth to reply, but movement down at the beach catches our attention. A tiny girl runs through the sand, squealing as the waves swallow her feet. A man, whom I assume is her father, chases after her, playing along. The sheer joy in her giggles, the purity of it, pulls a huge grin out of me.
“Look at that smile.”
My head snaps toward Owen to find him looking at me intently. His eyes are locked on me with a focus that indicates he’s been staring at me for longer than a second.
“What?” I mutter, confused by his comment.
“You’ve been extra smiley today,” he answers, his tone playful. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this much.”
Dear God, this man.
He has no idea what something as simple as noticing my smile does to me.
I try to play it off, casually brushing my ponytail over my shoulder.
“Well, I guess views like this and free travel tend to have that effect.”
His gaze doesn't falter.
His eyes don’t leave mine.
He doesn't flash me a stupid grin or chuckle as he usually would.
He just stares through my fucking soul.
“Keep doing it.” His voice drops, low and husky.
Keep doing it.
My breath catches in my fucking throat. I might as well have a lump of peanut butter in there.
For a second, I consider brushing off what he just said—tossing out a joke or saying anything other than the actual question on the tip of my tongue.
“Why?” I finally whisper.
He holds my stare for another beat before flipping my world upside down.
