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“This is what you wanted to show me? I have been here before.” I place my hands on my hips. “We used to come here all the time when—”
“When we were kids and wanted to disappear where no one could find us. I remember.”
Of course he does. After all, Creed often joined Anderson and me whenever we needed an escape, even at the villa.
That seems to be our M.O., though. Always looking for a way to escape.
And always falling short.
“I figured what better place to have some privacy than the boneyard?”
“You want to hike down there?” My eyes widen, mouth growing slack.
“Why not? We used to do it as kids.”
“It’s, like, two kilometers.”
“More like three.”
“What? Have you measured it?”
He shrugs. “This is part of the route I run in the morning.”
I glance down at my flip-flops. “I’m not exactly wearing appropriate shoes.”
“Then I’ll give you a ride.”
“Pretty sure you just did.” I waggle my brows.
“Not that kind of ride.” He pinches his lips together as a blush forms on his cheeks.
Creed Lawson getting embarrassed may be one of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen.
At first, he can seem a bit rough around the edges. But once you push through his harsh exterior, he’s all warm and soft. I’m grateful I’m one of the lucky few people to know this side of him. Who he trusts enough to let in.
Even though a part of me thinks this would be easier if he didn’t. If I were no more special than any of the other women he’s invited into his bed in the past. The mere thought of him with another woman causes my skin to heat with anger. I have no right to be jealous, especially since he’s forced to watch Jameson touch and kiss me. But the idea of another woman being able to have these pieces of Creed stings worse than I thought it would.
“I meant on my back. I’ll carry you.” He shrugs off the backpack hooked to his shoulders. “You’ll just need to put this on.”
“You can’t be serious.” I bark out a laugh. “You’d carry me all the way down there?”
“My gear pack weighs more than you do, princess.”
Normally, I hate when anyone calls me princess. The word serves as a reminder of the prison I’m stuck living in every day of my life. It’s akin to a convict being called inmate.
But I like when Creed calls me princess, his deep timbre causing a shiver to trickle down my spine. He’s not doing so as a reference to my title, but as a term of endearment.
“Hop on.” He turns away from me, widening his stance and bending at his knees to brace himself to carry me.
I roll my eyes, slinging his backpack over one of my shoulders and slapping his ass as I pass, causing him to jump. “I can walk. No need to carry me.”
“But I’d do it. For you.” He catches up to me and takes his bag from me, sliding it onto his back and linking his fingers with mine.
“I know you would.”
The moon lights our way as we trek down the sandy trail toward the boneyard, reminiscing about our younger years and the adventures we shared along this very path. I’d almost forgotten about the games we played, the fun we had.
Things were so much simpler back then. Before I understood my place in this world. The responsibilities placed on my shoulders. What I wouldn’t give to go back to that time, when my biggest problem was the one-legged pirate finding me and making me walk the plank, which was always one of the fallen trees along the beach.
