His smile stretches wide, and I find myself counting freckles instead of dealing with what I’m feeling when he looks at me like that.
It warms places in me that usually stay cold.
Okay, Yosh. Let’s focus on the practical part.
I do think a change of scenery will help him, that part’s true, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t invite him for selfish reasons too.
He’s like a magnet. I want to spend time with him. And I wouldn’t be putting so much on the line if it didn’t mean something, right?
This feels different from Deep Diver and all the others. And maybe now that I felt his soft lips on my skin—which, on second thought, I know for sure I did—maybe he isn’t so straight after all.
There’s only one way to find out without breaking the ice beneath my feet.
Waiting. I’ll be patient and see how this plays out. I won’t initiate.
Outside, the storm seems to be settling down. That means the waves will be perfect tomorrow.
We do the dishes, and that done, I remove the bandages from Tom’s hands to check his wounds. They’re healing well, and I don’t think they will cause any trouble tomorrow.
Afterward, Tom leads me outside and I’m relieved to see the rain has stopped.
As I walk along the limestone gravel path leading to the pool terrace, I turn around one last time.
“Meet me at the front desk at nine. Bring your swimwear, a towel, and the water shoes you received at check-in. You’ll need them.”
He leans against the doorway, arms folded in a way that shows a mix of tease and arrogance.
“Nine o’clock. Got it, doc.”
As I turn to leave, I hear him clear his throat, making me look back once more.
“Yosh, you look good in my shirt.”
Then he coughs, twice. Fake.
“I’m sorry, I mean, my shirt looks good on you. Keep it.”
His eyes glint with something dangerous. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
A shiver creeps down my spine. I hold his stare just long enough to make it seem like I’m unaffected, then force the faintest smile onto my lips before turning away.
Don’t rush. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
One step, then another. Steady steps. Casual steady steps.
I round the corner and stumble against the wall.
My hand flies to my mouth, muffling the laugh and a helpless, squeaky gasp that tries to escape.
Tom McKenna makes me feel like a love-drunk teenager all over again, and this is bad. Really bad.
Chapter eighteen
Yosh
The morning sun warms the rain-soaked ground, thickening the air with humidity. It settles over my skin like a soft cashmere blanket.
Breakfast is served on the pool terrace. I spot Tom from a distance, guitar case slung over his shoulder.
