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"Not suspicious. Apt."
"I have an international business trip. I'll be gone for a day or so."
"Where are we going?"
"We?" I pause mid shirt folding to frown.
"Yes. I don't want you leaving the island alone. I'll feel better if I'm with you."
"And you wonder why I call you a sweetheart. I already spoke to Ainslee. She's sending someone with me."
Caerwyn saved me and I know he'd do it again but there's no point in continually putting him in that position when there are people trained for that purpose.
"Are you sure?" The concern in his tone is endearing.
"Yes. It's okay to be my fiancé and not my bodyguard."
"It's part of my job description, Caterpillar. I protect my woman."
Shit. That's arousing and I don't know why.
"Noted, and you do an amazing job but not this time."
"Can I at least take you to the airport?"
"I'd love that. I'll need to be there by five."
"Okay, I'm leaving now."
I’m done packing by the time we disconnect, and I have the hotel booked when he arrives.
My insides melt at the sight of him in cobalt blue. Bold choice but sexy, nonetheless. His brown hair falls in his face as he smiles down at me. I should be used to seeing him, but that chiseled Hale perfection never gets old. My arms wrap around his waist because they can. I sigh when he returns the hug.
His chest vibrates when he speaks. “Now, I know you’re up to something.”
I look up at him with all the innocence I can muster. “It’s a crime to hug my fiancé?”
His look remains skeptical, but he grabs my bag, then my hand.
“Let’s go.”
Caerwyn refused to leave until he grilled Luci and almost got beat up. She’s not the biggest woman in the world. Shorter than my five-feet-five-inches. Her hair is a brown mass of Afro-Latina curls with tips kissed by the sun. She looks like a Stepford Wife with her 1950s inspired floral dress and cream cardigan. I’ve seen her before. When her face broke into a smile that didn’t really shine from
within like Markos’, it clicked. She manages Ainslee’s bakery. I used to wonder what was behind the forced cheerfulness, but I should have known.
“Ainslee sends treats.” Her comment is followed by her lifting a bakery box.
“Thank you.” I accept the box and watch her get settled in the plush seat across from me. The sweet, buttery scent of a sugar cookie makes it impossible to resist opening the box.
I eat the cookie, humming happily as I brush crumbs off my skirt. Luci studies me, her brown eyes observing everything. She plants another fake smile on her bronze face once she realizes I’m watching her as well. Each smile looks more exhausting than the last.
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell her.
“Do what?” she asks with the smile stuck in place as she crosses her sandaled feet.
“Pretend. If you aren’t naturally bubbly or prone to smile organically, I’m not going to hold it against you.” The smile instantly vanishes, and her face relaxes. “Better?”
Her dimple pops when she twists her face. “Much better. What’s the mission?”
