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“What’s he doing here?”
“Again, not really any of your business. But he flew here to make some romantic gesture. Which I didn’t accept because it’s been over between us for a while now.”
He nods. “Okay.”
“So, you’re being an asshole for nothing.”
He grimaces. “Look, don’t take me on about my attitude, okay? I know I’m a son of a bitch sometimes.”
The words are a little harsher than I would have chosen, but I let him finish.
“It’s who I am. I don’t usually have to look out for other people’s feelings.”
“Yeah, I can understand that,” I say. Sometimes, Brett comes across like the one person that exists in his little world is him. But sometimes, he’s not like that at all. He can be kind and warm and caring, and that’s the side of him that makes me weak at the knees.
Aside from the fact that he’s drop dead gorgeous and he has a body to die for.
“I don’t know why you’re so pissed off if I talk to another guy, anyway,” I say.
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and glances over my shoulder as if the answers will be there for him to find rather than to think up.
“I don’t either,” he says.
“Stop saying that you don’t know and use words,” I say.
He blinks at me when I scold him.
“I just thought we were hanging out, you know? Like…”
“A fling,” I say.
He doesn’t answer me.
“We are,” I add after a moment. “Which is why I’m here. To hang out.”
Finally, he nods. “Okay, I’d like that. I just need to get dressed, and then we can…what do you want to do?”
It’s my turn to tell him I don’t know. But he nods, accepting it.
“Let me get cleaned up, and I’ll meet you out here in like, twenty minutes. Then we’ll figure it out.”
I nod. This is a little better. It’s more like what I expected. His hostility was out of the blue.
He walks into the building I wove my way through when I arrived and disappears. I follow him in but go to the cafeteria to buy an iced tea while I wait for him. When I’m sitting at one of the tables and sip on my cold drink, I try to decide if I think his rude, abrasive way of responding to me is a red flag, or if the fact that he was jealous when he saw Charlie is something I should see as a compliment.
Before I can figure it out, he appears again. His dark hair is wet, and the collar of his t-shirt is soaked where he didn’t towel off properly.
“I have an idea,” he says. “Do you have a bathing suit?”
I nod. “At the hotel.”
“Okay, we’re stopping there, and then we’re going to my place.”
I raise my eyebrows at him.
“I have a stretch of private beach that I don’t use nearly as much as I should,” he explains. “We should use this weather while we can. It’s a lot more fun than the storm we were stuck in. Trust me.”
I decide that I will trust him. We climb into his overly expensive car, and he drives back to the hotel so I can collect a few things before he takes me to his place.
