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“Those were just for protein. Don’t be confused—I hate sweets.”
“No, you don’t. You love to indulge.”
The way he says it sends a ripple of desire down my spine.
“Yes, well…on occasion.”
“Join me for breakfast in a bit? On the terrace?”
“Sure. Right after I shower.”
“I thought you already had.”
“I’m a very hygienic person, Noah.”
Before he can tease me further, I slide the door closed and run for the shower.
When I dress later, I toss aside any outfit that falls into the modest, family-friendly category. This is not the time to play coy. I just saw post-workout Noah in all his hunky glory, and he deserves to suffer the same fate.
I meet him outside thirty minutes later wearing a bikini and a cover-up. I have no idea if we’ll be going swimming today, but considering we’re on the beach, chances are pretty good. I almost feel sorry for him when I look down at my boobs. They look very good today, and my cover-up offers a tantalizing glimpse of my body.
I enjoy a private moment of triumph when he looks up at me as I walk out of the villa and his jaw goes slack for all of one millisecond before he regains his composure.
“You’ll have to change after breakfast,” he says, eyes darting back to the food on the table as if he’s trying to give himself a moment to cool down.
“Why?”
Too much for you to handle?
“We’re going out on an excursion with a guide from the hotel. There are ruins nearby that I read are worth checking out.”
I smile, glad he took the time to research the trip like I did. I’d hoped we’d make it out to the Tulum ruins and meant to ask the receptionist about it yesterday, but I got distracted. By him.
On the table, there’s an array of breakfast items: bagels and scrambled eggs, coffee cakes and fruit. I settle for some yogurt and fruit, watching as Noah lifts a piece of bacon to his mouth.
I ask him if he’s ever toured ruins before and he tells me about a trek he did in college, down to Machu Picchu with his dad. It’s different than what we’ll be doing today. From what I’ve heard, the Tulum ruins are set up so it’s more of a walking tour and less of a dangerous journey through the jungle.
When he went to Machu Picchu, Noah tells me he and his dad had to hike through dense vegetation with a guide on the way to the ruins. At night, they slept in tents and carried everything they’d need in big camping backpacks. There are easier ways to get there—namely by helicopter—but he wanted to do it the slow way. His dad took photos and documented their trip for a piece in The Times, and I tell him I’d like to read it when we get back to Boston.
He nods. “I think I have a copy saved somewhere. It’s a cool article.”
It’s hard not to be amazed by a guy like Noah. On paper, he’s intimidating. A handsome surgeon who’s well-traveled and well-read. A man who carries himself with an air of confidence and who seems, at any given moment, to be in total control of the world around him.
I wonder what he thinks of me.
I carry my own accomplishments, but does he realize? Does he see me beyond my friendship with Natalie?
I think of our conversation from dinner last night. His confession still makes my stomach squeeze tight.
He’s had dirty dreams about me.
There’s my answer—at least on some level, he wants me.
So what’s holding him back?
I consider the question as we finish breakfast and make our way to the lobby to go on our excursion. I’ve changed into shorts and a tank top with sensible sneakers and a baseball cap. Noah flicks the brim as we wait to board the bus behind the other guests from the hotel. We’re all heading out as a group.
I thought I came prepared, but I didn’t anticipate Tulum’s tropical climate. Almost as soon as we make our way off of the bus and down the winding path toward the entrance of the preservation site, the sky opens up and torrential rain starts to pour down on us.
Noah and I glance toward one another in utter defeat. I have no jacket, no poncho, and neither does he. He reaches down and takes my hand, and we start to run through the mud toward a dry spot under a canopy of trees.
We laugh and shake off our limbs, trying in vain to dry ourselves off. Smart tourists pass us by with their huge umbrellas and rain boots. Noah and I groan about them to make ourselves feel better while we stand under the trees and wait out the storm.
It doesn’t take long for the rain to stop. Almost as soon as it starts, it eases up, shifting to light sprinkles that drip off the heavy green fronds of the trees protecting us.
