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“My lips are sealed.” He bites into his own sandwich and looks up at the ceiling, eyes closed, while he chews. I am far more fascinated with his Adam’s apple as he swallows than I probably should be, and I’m not sure if I dart my gaze away quickly enough when he suddenly looks my way again. “What?” He takes a napkin and swipes his chin. “Is there something on my face?”
Oh, drat. “Yeah, you’ve got something right there.” I point to his nose.
He takes another swipe. “Did I get it?”
“Nope.” I grin. “You’ve also got something here”—I point to his mouth—“and there.” His left eye. “And there.” His right.
He stops wiping, then purses his lips down. “Really, Princess?”
“You asked if you had anything on your face.” Taking another bite, I laugh again.
He snags my foot through the thick comforter and pinches it, wiggling it before letting go. “You’re impossible.”
“Why, thank you.” I pretend to bow, before sipping my drink. He’s brought me an English breakfast tea with a dash of cream—again, just the way I like it. We both continue eating and drinking, and then his contemplative look returns.
Instead of wondering, this time I ask. “What are you looking at?” Twisting in bed, I gaze out the window myself. The same view as last night greets me. Boats of all shapes and sizes bob in the Hallmark Beach Harbor located on the north side of the inn. “The marina?”
“Something like that.” Polishing off his sandwich, Frederick balls up the wrapper and tosses it into the rubbish bin across the room.
“No, don’t do that.”
“What? Prove how great of a basketball player I would make?” He flashes me a grin.
That grin does all sorts of things to my insides, but I can’t let him see that. So I ball up my own wrapper—which I’ve picked clean of any leftover bacon bits, thank you very much—and throw it at his head. Unfortunately, I miss and knock his cup clean off the bedpost. Gasping, I climb out of bed at the same time he does and scramble right into him.
We go down in a heap on the floor, him flipping at the last moment so he takes the brunt of the fall. I gaze down at him, my hair burying his face. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! Are you all right?” I try to dig through my hair and find him, but it’s a tangled mess at this point.
“Can’t. Breathe. So. Heavy.”
I gasp again. “I am not.” Then I roll off of him and smack him in the arm from where I lie next to him as he laughs.
His laugh turns wicked and he clutches his stomach, then rolls toward me, his eyes turning serious. “Areyouall right?”
“Me and my heavy self are just fine.”
“Oh, come now, Princess. Surely you know I was joking. You weigh as much as a feather.”
“Only slightly more.” I roll my eyes at the ceiling. “But yes, I’m okay. Just more worried about Janine’s floor if there was a lot left in your cup.”
“Nah, I was almost done.” He sits up, then gives me a hand too, and we both peer toward the cup, which has kept its lid on and hasn’t spilled a drop. “See? All good.”
“No, we are absolutely not all good.”
Folding his knees up and placing those strong arms around his legs, he lifts an eyebrow in my direction. “And just why not?”
Am I prying too much? It’s already enough that he’s pretending to be my fiancé, right? He deserves to have his private thoughts about things. And while we’ve always been friendly, I can’t exactly call him my closest confidante. After all, he’s more Topher’s friend than mine. But maybe he’ll indulge me. “You’re not getting out of answering my question.”
“And what question is that?”
“What were you looking at?”
He frowns and his hands make fists, his forearms tightening with the movement. “Just the boats.”
“And what were you thinking about?”
“It doesn’t really matter. So, what’s on the agenda today?”
“I thought we could stop at the dress shop and then we have to look around for a venue. But don’t change the subject.” Tentatively, I reach out a hand and squeeze his. His skin is warm, and I wish I could hang on, but I don’t. “What you’re thinking about matters to me.”
