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“By close, you mean?”
“You used letters. And yes, I could be eating a little better, but carbs are important, and I keep getting distracted by this incredibly gorgeous vixen.”
“Sounds like an inconsiderate wench. What happens if you don’t win, anyway? Can you try again next year?”
He shook his head. “Not that easy. This is the last year I’m eligible to compete. Next year I’ll be too old. I know, unfair, right?” He beamed. “I’ll go back to the kale shakes tomorrow, promise. Look, I’ve spent years preparing for this. As long as I eat healthy…” He looked at the remaining pancakes on his plate. “Healthier and have a few days in California to get back in the swing, I should be fine.” He pushed the plate away. “Okay, it’s not ideal preparation, I’ll give you that, but I’m prepared. Trust me, I’ll be okay. This is important to me.”
So important he should probably start taking it a little more seriously. He’d never let his preparation get this side-tracked before, and this wasn’t a great time to start.
Standing, Xavier walked over to the water station and poured himself a glass. Law breaking was thirsty work. He returned to two raised eyebrows.
“What?”
She blinked at him. “Uh, I’m okay for water, thanks.”
“It’s just over there,” he said. “What’s the big deal?”
“You ordered without me, too.”
“You were in the bathroom.”
“Yes,” she said shaking her head. “It’s common courtesy. I’m not asking for you to lay your cape on the ground for me. Just, be a bit more considerate.” She shrugged. More to herself than Xavier, adding, “For such an unselfish man in the bedroom…”
He’d stuffed up again. So much for doing things differently. Back in Boston, after they first had sex, he’d left her in the hotel room to go for a run. He’d deliberately kept running until the sky was too dark to keep going. He’d run until his legs gave out, running from the conversation he knew it wasn’t sensible to have. No commitments meant not caring, right?
Hope hadn’t mentioned it, but he could tell she’d been a little pissed at his hasty departure, but he was already having second thoughts about their arrangement. Maybe he wasn’t capable of an emotionless encounter.
The problem was he had no precedent for how this was supposed to work. Endless mind-blowing sex without the complications of a relationship? For many men, he’d be living the dream. For Xavier, not so much. He had to keep reminding himself this was only temporary and to keep some distance between them. It wasn’t working well. There was no map for this thing, except for the actual map, theHat of Destiny,and their ridiculous list.
For reasons unexplained, Hope had begun to seep into his pores. In mere days, she’d somehow managed to penetrate his defences. Where before nothing had been as important to him as his beloved surf lifesaving, he had to keep reminding himself why he was there. His lack of commitment to anything except his fitness routine was something Beth had been only too eager to bring up in their final argument. It was one of a long litany of offences she’d thrust at him when they broke up.
During Beth’s tirade, he’d remained mute. After all, she’d been right. He had no comeback. His whole life he’d been a pillar of male fortitude. The men he’d grown up with never showed emotion, no matter how deep some of the accusations had cut. They never discussed their feelings, especially not with women, and yet…Hope was beginning to get under his skin, and he liked it. Perhaps it was their lack of commitment, or maybe it was her. He didn’t know.
How did Hope do it, anyway? She was a woman of many talents. He was determined not to grow too fond of her, but at the same time he had every intention of enjoying each moment of her company. It was going to be a balancing act.
Clicking fingers brought him back to the present. “Hello, Earth to surfer dude. Are you there, surfer dude? Come in?”
“Huh, sorry.”
“Where were you? You seemed miles away.”
“Yeah, away with the bunyips, I guess. Was thinking about how I got here. Our trip, New York, Beth. Went off on a tangent.”
“Bunyips? Beth? Seriously, I need a translator.”
Balls. He’d avoided providing any details as to exactly how he’d come to be alone in New York. His first reaction was to clam up and give nothing away. After all, that was his default setting, but as with most things, Hope was the exception. Since she’d responded so well to it the night they met, he decided to try it again — the truth, the whole truth.
For the next five minutes, Xavier spilled the whole sorry mess. He confessed that the trip hadn’t meant to be solo, and he’d arrived with a girlfriend, Beth. Their ultimate destination had been the competition in California, but on the way, he’d planned to propose to her in the honeymoon suite at the hotel in NYC, maybe even convince her to get married in Vegas. Like an idiot, he’d managed to get shitfaced and whip out the ring early.
The memory of watching Beth’s face fall when he’d held out his grandmother’s wedding ring still stung. He’d looked like a moron from a bad sit-com, wobbling on his knees in the hideously expensive hotel room. The reverberation ofno, no, no, no, nostill rung in his ears. At the time, he’d known the sheer volume ofno’shadn’t boded well, but his humiliation had not yet been complete. Between teary apologies, Beth had told him she’d cheated on him with a fellow lifesaver.
Thankful for the buffer of a gutful of alcohol, he’d still found the most confusing part when he’d asked if she was in love with the other bloke. She hadn’t even answered, just shrugged and started packing her things.
He hadn’t moved even as she dragged her suitcase out the door and out of his life. It was only once the door had clicked shut behind her that the whiskey in his stomach told him he either needed to vomit or to punch something. With the other man half a world away, he’d settled on punching the poor innocent wall. He was lucky he hadn’t broken his wrist and put himself out of competition.
Later, he’d stormed out of the hotel, her rejection stinging like a thousand tiny cuts. He’d found the closest pub and drunk himself under the table. When he’d finally managed to stagger back into the hotel room many hours later, its silence had mocked him.
Beth was long gone, and all he had to show for their time together were a couple of throw rugs, some expensive skin care products, and a leaden ball of guilt.
