Chapter 8
eight
. . .
“Sorry about that, Gracie. Just needed a moment to console my hubby here that his brother wouldn’t be joining us.”
Heath resisted the urge to cover his face, though he feared his eyeballs might roll right out at Gracie’s sympathy.
“Your own brother canceled on you?”
The guilt came fast and furious. The poor woman sounded so distraught on his behalf, he wanted to confess he was an only child and Westin was a lying liar. Then, flashes of drunk, half-naked coeds and sticky, screaming children filled his head, and he flushed that guilt right out to the sea.
“Yes, well. You know how family can be.”
Gracie shook her head. “Mm-hmm. There’s an uncle we don’t invite to holidays anymore.”
“He doesn’t approve of us,” Westin added, sliding up close and slinging an arm across Heath’s shoulders.
All Heath’s brain was immediately capable of was static. Good God, the man smelled incredible. How was it possible that the hours of travel hadn’t affected him? The sea spray from their voyage had actually heightened the clean undertones of his cologne. It was the darkest of magic.
“Oh, Heath. That’s awful!”
It was awful, and he was so glad she’d noticed. Of course, she meant his bigoted asshole brother who didn’t exist, but inside, Heath applied the sympathy to the slowly dawning realization he was now trapped with this man for fourteen straight days.
Straight being the operative word.
“Yep. Guy’s a total homophobe,” Evan continued, piling onto the story. “Between us, I’m not sorry. I mean, who wants family on their honeymoon? It’ll be a much better time with just the two of us. Right, pookie?”
Westin flexed the arm around his shoulders, and Heath gasped involuntarily. “Yes. So right.”
Oh, Andres and Manuel would never let this go.
Which was exactly why he didn’t plan to tell them.
Not a damn thing. Maybe once he was home safe, sound, and unscathed, he’d regale them with tales of his triumph.
Inform them he’d spent weeks in the company of a gorgeous man without once succumbing to a ludicrous fantasy world.
There would be no imagining the wall of muscle pressed against his side being used for a sushi boat. Or fluffing the man’s impeccable ass like a pillow.
They needed to have a stern conversation about consent. This unexpected closeness and touching couldn’t continue. For the sake of his sanity.
Gracie gave them a very obvious oh, you guys laugh. “Well, some families are fun to have around, such as ours. They’ll actually be in residence while you’re here.”
Heath was confused. “Your family?”
“The family,” she clarified. “The island’s owners.”
“Oh, that family.”
Fully returned to her original cheeriness, Gracie again clasped her hands beneath her chin.
“Yes! They’ve asked that I invite you to join them this evening for the kickoff of the anniversary festivities.
Nate and Olivia are celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary. It’s going to be quite a party.”
Westin beamed. “Excellent.”
Heath grunted as Westin jostled him one last time before setting him free.
This was the furthest thing from excellent.
It was a nightmare. They couldn’t very well turn down an invitation from the island’s owners.
They also couldn’t parade around acting like strangers without garnering questions.
Which meant the ruse he’d hoped would end the moment they left the lobby would have to continue for the duration of their stay.
Evan collected the key ring from the desk and dangled the key for the golf cart in front of his nose.
“Last one’s a rotten egg.”
Heath watched a barefoot Westin bolt out the door, laughter hanging in his wake, and turned to Gracie with a sigh.
“Is it a particularly long walk to the villa?”
“You two are adorable.”
“Uh, right. Thanks. Is it, though?”
She shrugged. “It’s doable, but after a long day of travel? Especially lugging baggage? I’d stick with that sexy husband of yours.”
Heath wished he could tell her he’d been carrying baggage his entire life, so another mile wouldn’t kill him, but the woman had suffered enough. With a polite word of thanks, he followed the footprints of his new ball and chain down a short dirt path that ended in a narrow parking area.
“C’mon, Lennox. Meter’s running.”
Heath withered at the sight of Westin with his legs kicked up on the dashboard, dirty feet crossed on top of the dash. “I’m not riding with you.”
He lifted his chin and walked past, then jumped with a shriek when Westin honked the horn.
“Jesus!”
“It’s a serious hike, man. Just get in.”
“No.”
Heath continued his stoic march. His heavy bag bounced against his hip with every step on the uneven terrain. This was going to be a miserable mile.
Westin pulled up next to him and kept pace. “You can’t be serious.”
“I can, and I am.”
“Those are terrible walking shoes. You’ll get a blister. You really want to spend the first half of your vacation with a blister?”
“These shoes are very comfortable, thanks,” he lied. They were ancient and already pinching, and it was way too hot for socks and leather shoes.
“Why are you like this?”
Heath stopped and dropped his bag, facing the cart with hands perched on his hips. “Me? What about you? Why do you care if I get blisters? I’m not your brother, or nephew, or cousin twice removed. Why should you care about anything I do?”
“Because we’re newlyweds, pooks. I want only the best for you.”
“We are not—stop calling me that!”
“You prefer Shnookums?”
“I prefer you to leave me alone!”
“Can’t. Like it or not, we’re stuck together for as long as the family is around. So get in. It’ll be even more miserable if you’re uncomfortable.”
Heath threw up his hands and paced in a circle. “I’m already uncomfortable. This has been the worst six hours of my life, and I teach high school!”
“You think I’m happy about this?”
“You sure look it.”
The serious expression cracked, and Westin smiled—broad, toothy, and radiant. The spectacular sight of it made Heath want to throw things. Big, heavy things.
“Guilty. I think this is hilarious.”
In the bright sun, his hair was coppery crimson and the freckles across his nose even more visible. Those freckles would become more pronounced with sun exposure. They’d also multiply. By week’s end, someone so fair and ginger would be covered in them.
To make matters worse, Westin’s shirt was now fully unbuttoned, and the wispy linen hung off his shoulders to flutter in the gentle breeze. It called attention to his broad chest and flat stomach, as though either required framing to draw the eye.
Heath stretched and flexed his fingers, ignoring the tingling, visceral need to pet the dusting of hair that blazed a path from the dip of Westin’s belly button to somewhere beyond the cinch of his belt.
The man’s attractiveness quotient already existed beyond measurable limits and was about to grow exponentially.
Heath expected a Best Actor Oscar for pretending to be unaffected, assuming he survived.
Raising his sunglasses onto his head, Westin held out his hands, palms up. “Can we call a truce?”
Heath closed his eyes and took a calming breath. “Fine.”
They rumbled along the winding dirt road, and Heath silently, begrudgingly admitted he was glad he’d caved. He was tired and hungry and hadn’t really wanted to walk. Plus, playing passenger princess allowed him to enjoy the incredible view, which unfortunately included the person driving.
The smaller rooms that Heath had expected to occupy were tucked and scattered around the center of the resort like little hobbit homes.
The villas, however, were on the outskirts, hidden amidst dense plant life that enveloped either side of the road, which had narrowed significantly as they’d wound their way up and around the hillside.
Groundskeeper carts had to pull over to let them by.
It was cooler at this elevation, too. A breeze rustled the leaves that shaded them overhead, carrying with it the briny tang of salt. Heath closed his eyes and inhaled the heady scent mixed with humid earth and fragrant blooms.
“God, this is beautiful.”
Westin propped his sunglasses back atop his head. “A friend of mine said I was crazy coming here alone, but the joke’s on him. Despite how you feel about me, I still think you’ll be better company.”
Heath bit his tongue. God, he was curious, but he knew Westin was only looking for an opportunity to say something about his nosiness. He wasn’t falling into that trap.
“I know you wanna ask.”
Heath gave him a sidelong glance. Was the guy a mind reader? “Nope.”
“Liar.”
“It’s not my business.”
“When has that stopped you?”
Touché. “I’m not even remotely interested.”
“Alright, then. I guess you don’t want to gloat about me getting ditched at the altar. Probably for the best. Would only cement your already negative opinion of me.”
Heath bit back a gasp. No, he couldn’t be serious.
Westin faced straight ahead, wearing an expression of total neutrality, but Heath caught the movement of his eyes when they darted over to check if he was looking. Once confirmed, the slightest smile quirked Westin’s lips.
Heath crossed his arms and snorted. “Tease.”
The laugh that rumbled up from Westin’s chest made Heath’s limbs warm and wobbly.
“Unfortunately, I’m serious.”
Incapable of maintaining an air of disinterest, Heath turned ninety degrees for the best view of Westin’s responses. “Was it dramatic? Did someone interrupt the ceremony, or did she turn tail and run out of the church with her dress and veil streaming behind her?”
“Nope. Just didn’t show up.”
“Oh.” Heath couldn’t hide his vexation. “Well, that doesn’t make for a satisfying story at all.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I hightailed it out of there and came here.”
“No, I mean, why didn’t she show up? What did you do to her?”
Westin hit the brakes, sending Heath sideways into the dash with enough force to bruise.
“Jesus!”
“What did I do?”
“A minute ago, you were worried about my feet, but breaking my ribs is okay?”
“Fuck your ribs. Why are you so quick to assume it’s my fault?”
“Oh, please. It’s always the man’s fault.”
“Wow. Okay. Fuck the rest of you, too.”
Heath rubbed the sore spot on his side and glared. “Am I wrong?”
“Would you even believe me if I said you were?”
“Of course. I’m a perfectly rational adult.”
“You’re wrong.”
Heath scoffed, then jumped when Westin grabbed his bag from the back and hurled it onto the rocky dirt road.
“What the—My laptop is in there!”
“Get out.”
“What?”
Westin leaned in close enough that he could count the flecks of green in his golden-brown irises and smell the cinnamon on his breath.
“Get. Out.”
Heath blinked. “But what about my blisters?”
“I hope you get two per foot.”
“Evan—”
“Out.”
Heath sat motionless until the livid heat of Westin’s stare forced him to move. He climbed from the cart, slipping on the loose rocks along the steep hillside as he moved to gather his bag.
The moment he’d reached the back of the cart, Westin floored it, showering him in pebbles and dust as the cart shimmied, caught traction, and took off down the road.
Coughing, he brushed at his clothes and slung his bag over his shoulder, then promptly screamed and dropped it again at the sight of a massive lizard watching him from beneath the leaves of a large plant.
The reptile blinked at him slowly, one eye at a time, and then disappeared back into the foliage, where Heath heard it shuffling through the undergrowth. At least, he hoped that was what the shuffling was.
Keenly motivated, he averted his eyes, collected his bag a second time, and took off at a light jog.