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I have to admit I’m a bit surprised. I didn’t expect to find something so romantic. Although it’s an engagement party and all bungalows must come this way, I imagine.
“Right,” he murmurs, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“I didn’t think it would be like this,” I say apologetically while running my hand over the satin sheets and brushing the petals off.
“You can take the bed,” I say. “I’ll sleep on a couch. I’m used to sleeping on them,” I add, and then I realize I was talking to myself.
I search the rooms, looking for him but can’t find him.
Good thing I locate the shower in the back.
At least we don’t have to share the bathtub.
“Jaden?”
I step onto the porch and drag my gaze up and down the strip of sand.
I spot him nearby, standing on the beach, gazing at the ocean. I call his name again, but he doesn’t answer, so I spin around and head to the shower.
Moments later, wearing only a white cotton set––shorts and a matching tank top––I stroll to the porch.
Just as I pull out a chair at the table, the bathroom door closes in the back.
Shortly after, I hear the water running.
I lift the food covers and take a peek. Fish and vegetables. Salad.
I take a serving of each and start eating.
Footsteps echo in the house before edging to me.
“I’m sorry… I was hungry,” I say as he takes a seat across from me.
A fresh scent travels from him.
He wears a pair of low-riding sweatpants, barely clinging to his muscular butt. More tattoos than expected cover his torso.
He rests his elbows on the table.
“What’s that?” I ask.
His eyes pull up at me, cold.
“What?”
“What you wear... Your scent.”
“Nothing. Aftershave,” he murmurs, shifting his gaze to the food.
He fills half of his plate and starts eating without much enthusiasm.
Strands of hair fall over his eyes, grazing his cheeks.
I sense a shift in his mood. Not surprisingly, for worse, of course. It’s hard not to notice it. He keeps his eyes rooted to his plate as I roll my gaze over him.
Ropes of corded muscles wrap around his arms. A second tattoo stretches on the left side of his chest. A barely visible scar brands his left arm. There’s a scar next to each tattoo, and he has more scars than I’ve ever seen on anyone I know.
My eyes dip to his strong, long fingers.
