Relief is not the only thing I feel. I’m intrigued, and a bit nervous, and for no good reason at all.
Once my feet meet the ground, I straighten and slide my backpack onto my shoulder.
“Send us your address to mail up the blankets,” I blurt, putting distance between us.
Rex doesn’t seem to mind my lack of tact. So far, he’s been the perfect gentlemen while I’ve only had mistrust for him.
It’s ingrained in me, Olivia said–– passed down from my grand-grandmother.
I don’t know about that, but I recognize that it takes talent to push people away, and I have it in droves.
“Would you like to eat with us?” Frankie says, as we are about to say goodbye to him.
The man looks at me first.
I know why.
I’ve been against him since he offered to give us a ride. Despite saving me from his kite and Frankie from the fury of the ocean, I still can’t muster a warm feeling toward him.
“There’s plenty of food. And we could have the chance to talk and get to know each other while wearing clothes,” Frankie says, her social skills putting me to shame.
He hesitates, maybe because of me, although I try to keep my expression steady and not let out any more bad feelings for him.
Or perhaps it has to do with the man at the other end of his call. Whoever Kian is, they don’t seem to be on good terms.
Maybe, he needs to be somewhere else.
I’d point it out to him, but I don’t want to look like a jerk.
I don’t want to acknowledge that I’ve eavesdropped on his conversation.
Besides, he doesn’t need to be wherever he needs to be until midnight.
“It won’t take long,” Frankie says, catering to his hesitations.
“All right,” he says.
I don’t think he’s hungry. I think he’s curious.
And I’m curious too, while Frankie is her usual self, the social butterfly who makes everybody feel good.
She nudges me to the shower first to make sure I’m not ruining her efforts chasing him away while she’s in the bathroom washing her hair.
I shower, dry my hair quickly, and put on a summer dress before walking into the kitchen.
Plates and cutlery are on the table– she even lit a handful of colorful candles.
“Done?” she asks, wrapped in my robe.
I feel bad that she waited for me, so I quickly take over her host duties.
“I made coffee,” Frankie says on her way to the bathroom.
“Thank you,” I say to her. “Would you like some?” I ask, pouring myself a cup and shifting my eyes to Rex.
The ceiling seems to be hanging lower as he pushes to his feet and takes off his jacket.
“Yes, thank you.”
His manners are impeccable.
I focus on filling a cup for him before turning, holding the mugs.
I set one in front of him, just as he takes a seat and flicks his gaze to me, sending sparks of electricity down my body.
“I’ll take it.”
I set his jacket on a hanger, noticing the scent of aftershave drifting from it.
How can he smell so fresh after a day like this?
“How do you like Half Moon Bay?” he asks as I slide into my seat across from him.
“Honestly, today was our first day out. We haven’t had the chance to see much.”
My eyes travel down his white T-shirt–– his pecs push against the smooth fabric.
The memory of him naked down to his waist warms my cheeks, prompting me to pull my gaze away in haste.
I take a sip of coffee.
“What about you? You seem to know everybody in this town.”
His grin is different this time–– it floods his eyes and makes him look much younger. Although he is only a few years older, he looks like a real man.
Olivia always joked that men between twenty and thirty-five look of any age.
She’s right. Some of my colleagues look like teenagers, while others pass for their teachers.
Rex looks like a man, but his smile gives away his age.
That’s what I find intriguing about him. His manners, words, and acts are flawless, beyond reproach. Too good to be true.
Unexpected and far from the norm.
That fact alone feeds my distrust not because I have something against him, but because I don’t like to be disappointed about him.
I’ve been let down before.
Olivia says I’m too cynical for my age, and she’s right. And Frankie has often pointed out that I had built too many walls to keep myself away from them.
But he is different.
“We’ve, uh...”
He has that smile again, his eyes slanting down to his coffee.
“We’ve been in this town for some time.”
We?
What does he mean by we?
“My family,” he adds in a serious tone. “We own a vacation home here.”
Curiosity bites my lips, but I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to sound nosy.
It’s not my thing.
“You?”
I lift and drop my shoulders, smiling.
“My family just bought this house, and this is the first time I spend the summer months here.”
I pause, itching to move to a different topic.
“Family?”
Darn.
My plan didn’t work out.
“Part of my family,” I mutter.
My grin is fake, like my words.
“Grandaunt,” I say curtly, planning to abandon this topic.
He doesn’t need to know that I have no one besides Olivia, a few friends, and Frankie.
He already knows too much about me while I have little information about him.
Sure, I know he studies Political Science, he is a great athlete and is well-behaved.
I know he has brains and muscles, and he is in the habit of saving stranded women.
I know he’s a gentleman, he’s not pushy, and doesn’t have bad manners.
I understand he’s well-off–– most people in this town are–– but there are things I can’t figure out yet, like the man and the woman on the beach.
They came together and left separately. The woman seemed attracted to him, and he acted friendly toward her, and then she was nowhere to be found.
And then there was the broody, fearless man who taunted the storm and couldn’t care less that he emerged from a brewing ocean.
Rex never talked about him or seemed to care about his whereabouts.
And then there was the man he was talking on the phone with and the restaurant where people knew his name and never asked for money.
“By the way. Where do I send the payment for my car repair?” I toss at him, fishing for more information.
He makes a soft gesture.
“It’s been taken care of.”
I stare at him.
He nods reassuringly.
“Seriously. Don’t worry about it.”
I suck in a long shaky breath.
“Well, I appreciate your courtesy, but I can’t accept your gift. It’s my car, my responsibility.”
He smiles as if he expected me to object.
“I never denied that. It’s just that the people who take care of your car owe me a favor, so I’m passing down some of their gratitude to you. It’s nothing more than that. My gift doesn’t create any obligations on your part.”
I study his eyes for a moment.
Soft candlelight dances on his cheeks, glowing specks dripping in his eyes.