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Jonah looked out the window. I wondered if it was to hide the smile that had sparked on him. “It’s risky, Fox.”
“It’s our only shot. If we wait any longer, they could catch on that their code is cracked. They could switch it up. If it really is Lucien, then we need to get him on that boat, leading the drug deal.”
“You think he’s really the one behind this? The guy pointed a BB gun at us. Not exactly the most drug-dealer move to pull.”
“You’re right.” I shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s him. Everything we have points to one of them. So we boat past the drug drop tomorrow and find out who, taking pictures of the fucker in the process.”
“That sounds like a crazy idea, Fox.” Jonah smiled even wider. “I love it.”
The rest of the drive consisted of us trying to figure out how best to get close to the drug deal without getting noticed. At some point, our hands had gravitated to each other’s, meeting in the center, our fingers lightly locking together.
The driver pulled up to our stay for the night, and my jaw dropped.
We were staying at the Palm Cabanas, famous for their private and romantic vibes, and also famous for constantly being booked up. “Jonah, you’re ridiculous,” I said, looking around as we pulled into a small parking lot, near the two tower palm trees that marked the entrance to the beachside cabanas.
“And we’ve got the private section of the beach, too.”
“How?” I asked.
“I know a guy.” Jonah laughed and shook his head. “I stalked Expedia for days waiting for something to open.”
“Crazy. You’re crazy.” I squeezed his hand a little tighter in mine, my heart singing out a song that felt louder than the song playing on the radio.
After checking in, we were led to our secluded cabana, a fire pit glowing orange outside of the entrance. And these weren’t the typical hotel cabanas with four posts and a sandy white cloth as a cover. These were more like small, deluxe villas that faced out to the beach. It was one room, the bedroom, with an adjoining bathroom, everything inside of it a beautiful white marble with pops of blue and reds, huge seashells up on the wall.
The bedroom was glorious. There was a California king-sized bed that felt like a damn cloud, with pressed white sheets and a fort of fluffy-looking pillows. The wall that faced out to the water was just one big sliding glass door, allowing us to sleep tonight with the ocean right next to us.
Although, with the smolder in Jonah’s eyes as he came out of the bathroom, I started to think we weren’t going to be getting much sleep in the first place. He had changed into a pair of (very short) black shorts and a light-blue T-shirt that made his eyes pop like sapphire-blue fireworks.
“You like it?”
“I love this, Jonah. You really didn’t have to, though.”
“I know, but I wanted to.”
He had crossed the space, stopping in front of me. The glass door to the beach was open, the fresh salt-filled air coming in and filling the cabana.
“Jonah…” The kiss that followed stole the words from my lips.
The kiss grew, stealing more words, stealing my breath. Our bodies pressed together, mine on his, his hands reaching around and gliding over my ass, squeezing and kneading before his hands moved upward, over my shoulders, moving to cup the back of my neck.
The kiss lasted longer than most that we shared. When we parted for breath, I could tell the air was alight with the electricity between us.
I could see something else, something in Jonah’s ocean eyes. Was it worry? Was it fear?
“What’s going on?” I asked, reading him like one of my birding books. “You look worried?”
“What? No, I’m not… I’m just thinking, that’s all…”
“Remember, you wear your thinking face like I wear my jocks.”
He smiled. “That’s right. Boldly.”
“Yup. So what are you thinking about?”
“Things.”
“Like?”
“You… me. Climate change and the effect it has on the bee population. You know, the usual.”
The laugh burst from my chest. “Let’s handle one thing at a time.’
Jonah, still smiling, seemed to steady himself, as though what he was about to say required an extra amount of courage. My pulse quickened.
“I want you, Fox… In more than the physical way. I want you next to me, holding my hand, and I want… I want to be able to call you mine… I want to be your boyfriend, Fox.”
The words I’d been desperate to hear and the ones I thought I never would, not unless it involved an angry ex and a mostly naked man walking out of the shower together. I had played this moment out in my head so much, I knew exactly what to say next. I knew that the words that should have been coming out of my mouth were “yes, abso-fucking-lutey, yes.”
