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She looks at me open mouthed, and after gulping loudly, mutters, “Would you like to go near the lake?”
23
ROSE
It’s a beautiful, sunny day with some scattered clouds. I sit in Zander’s Cadillac as a woman’s soulful voice filters through the speakers. I glance at the man beside me, who’s smiling and humming along with the music.
This is the first time I’m seeing him out of his usual three-piece suit and tie. Even last night, he slept in his dress shirt and suit pants. But today, he’s wearing a casual button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and crisp blue jeans. His eyes, hidden behind his aviator glasses, and his hair not set as usual cheat his CEO image. My fingers hesitantly glide through his soft locks. I’ve dreamt about this since our first meeting in the café but never knew this small action could be so sensual.
“Marr?” Zander’s hoarse voice halts my movements. My fingers are still lost in his obsidian bunch when he looks at me with fierce eyes. His gaze tears from the road to me before he pulls back and shifts in his seat. “You can’t do that to me while I’m driving.”
I have no idea what he means.
What am I doing?
He’s the one who’s making me a crazy bag of emotions.
After long moments of silence, I comment, “Your hair is softer than it was last night.”
“Oh yeah?” He raises an eyebrow. “I might have stolen some of your ocean secret product.”
“You’re welcome to use it anytime.” I giggle; I can’t hide my smile around him.
“If this is an invitation to spend more nights in your bedroom, we need to meet Kristy’s guy.”
This isn’t the first time Zander’s insinuated that Kristy is seeing someone, but I’m not sure. Since I’ve known her, Kristy has never been the one to hide her dating life. But come to think of it, I haven’t heard any of her recent dating stories.
“Do you think she’s seeing someone?” I ask, now seriously considering the idea.
“I have a strong feeling her guy is from Elixir,” Zander says casually.
“What?” I look at him in surprise. Why wouldn’t she tell me?
“She has very sneakily brought up the non-fraternization policy annulment thrice in our discussions,” Zander explains, raising an eyebrow. “I want to meet the guy and make sure he and I don’t end up at your place on the same evening with a sleepover bag. I have no desire to have any other man hear my girl’s screams of ecstasy.”
“Screams of ecstasy?” My face heats at his words. He might be exaggerating, claiming last night’s moans to be screams, but I’m surely not a quiet person.
“And tonight, I plan to hear them all night long. Be prepared,” he says as if in a warning.
Crab. Am I prepared?
We walk hand in hand along the shoreline of Cherry Lake. It’s a vital part of Cherrywood, giving the town not only its name but also attracting several tourists every year, especially during spring. This season, the cherry blossoms are in full bloom and the lake turns a beautiful pink.
Mountains surround the lake on three sides, and one can always spot those obnoxious seagulls flying over the shore, ready to snatch everything from your hands. I’ve learned my lesson about not eating a snack at the shore the hard way. But even then, I always love this place, and walking here today with Zander makes it more special.
As we traipse toward the park, the crowd thickens—kids with young parents, older couples walking hand in hand, and teenage girls giggling when they see Zander. I look at him, lost in his own world, oblivious to the effect he’s having on women and girls alike.
We soon reach the park entrance, and above the iron gate is a gigantic yellow banner with red letters saying Three-Day Carnival. Fair-style tents cover the entire park.
“There’s some big party going on here.” Zander looks around.
I hesitate at the entrance, watching the serene park that’s turned into a fiesta. This isn’t a surprise, as once a month, there’s usually some event going on in the park. But what gets to me is that, today, I didn’t check the town’s website. Zander and his words distracted me, somehow bringing my guard down, making me less paranoid. His presence and its effects are much stronger than any medication or therapy I’ve been subjected to.
“I guess it’s because of the long weekend,” I mumble, glancing around nervously.
“What is it, Marr?” He holds my cold hands and pulls me to the side, out of the way of the crowd. “We can go somewhere else.”
His warm fingers gently stroke the back of my hands, comforting me, bringing my escalating heartbeat down.
