Chapter 27
. . .
“Oh, I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow!”
Isabella’s eyes were misty as she pulled Heath into another hug and squeezed the breath out of him.
“I’m happy to stay if you want to make me a kept man.”
She laughed. “I would, but you’re spoken for, and I couldn’t possibly separate the two of you.”
“You could make us kept men, then.” Live forever on a private island with Evan? Yes, please.
“Oh lord, I can’t afford Evan.”
“Did… did you just call me cheap?”
“I would never.”
“I think you did.”
“Oh, there’s Livie. Gotta run!”
Heath watched her hurry away with his tongue firmly in his cheek. She really was on his Christmas list, but she’d be getting coal for the foreseeable future.
“What’s got your panties in a bunch?”
He’d sensed Evan’s approach. The way he sauntered across the sand had a specific rhythm to the crunch, and the clean, citrusy scent of his skin carried on the wind. Or maybe it carried on him. He sniffed his collar and suppressed a contented sigh.
They’d been wearing one another like favorite t-shirts for days. There was no telling where one began and the other ended anymore. Of course, when he’d expressed that to Evan, there had been Human Centipede references, which reminded him that not everyone was a poet.
“You know very well I go commando under swim shorts.”
“Commando? Not knickerless or in the altogether? Well done. I’m impressed.”
How desperately he wanted to retort with a snappy comeback or an equally chastising glare, but what came out was the most undignified snort and a wheezing laugh. Damn him.
Damn them all, really. He’d had the loveliest two weeks of his life at this glorious and obscenely priced resort, and it pained him to think he’d never be back. He’d probably never see any of them again.
No, he wasn’t thinking that way. Today was their last full day together, and there would be no sadness. Olivia’s rules, and you did not want to defy Olivia, especially after a few glasses of wine. The woman’s wit somehow grew sharper the more she imbibed.
“Are you going to be alright?”
Evan’s smile was relaxed as he stretched his arms over his head and nodded. “We’re only going around the corner. I think I can handle that.”
Heath watched his shirt lift, helpless to resist the call of the belly fuzz. He slipped his hand into the narrow gap and let his fingers scratch across Evan’s skin. He didn’t care if anyone was watching. Let them watch and be envious.
“We can stay here if you’d rather.”
Evan groaned, a wicked grin curling his lips as he captured Heath’s wrist before his inquisitive fingers could skirt any lower. The top of the hourglass was emptying, and that made him uncharacteristically bold.
“We can play naked and bound on the secluded beach, if that’s what you’re after. Just promise me you’ll keep up with the sunscreen. There are parts of me I do not want to fry.”
The best part was Evan meant it, and he knew it. He’d been up for anything since their first time together, and Heath couldn’t believe anyone had let that man escape from their bed.
“The idea has merit.”
“Scoundrel.”
Of course, he was letting Evan escape, wasn’t he?
A sharp pain twisted behind his ribs. There wasn’t a future between them, and he knew it.
Each time he’d tried to broach the subject of later, Evan had quickly and efficiently distracted him.
He might be a hopeless romantic fool, but he could still read a room.
He also knew better, because he’d tried the two-different-worlds thing multiple times, and each experience had ended worse than the last.
Oh, wouldn’t Andres and Manuel be impressed? If he ever spoke to them again. He still hadn’t decided.
Not only had he landed the incredibly handsome man from the plane, but he’d walked away from the fling with only a few deliberate and strategic bruises. His sanity was completely intact.
Mostly intact.
Mostly-ish.
At the very least, he’d resolved to fall apart only when he was alone. No one needed to know how devastated he planned to be.
This was the whirlwind love affair he’d wax nostalgic about when he was a bitchy old hag fanning himself on the porch of Andres’ summer home. The lakeside retreat they planned to retire to when they’d had enough of society.
Retreating from society sounded rather splendid, actually. He could take these memories and live out the rest of his days mourning the past. A perfectly healthy decision that wasn’t sad at all.
“Are you ready, gentlemen?”
Juan, their statuesque captain from day one, approached with a large cooler in his arms and nodded for them to follow him to the powerboat.
Today they would spend the afternoon on one of the small, isolated beaches on the far side of the island.
Accessible only by boat or a fairly strenuous hike, they used the spot for what they called “romantic strandings.” An afternoon of complete privacy with your lover and a cooler packed full of goodies.
Marta had pulled them aside at breakfast to confirm they were all set for the afternoon, and Heath had been over the moon. Another surprise Evan had planned for the person who clearly didn’t deserve such a romantic husband.
Her loss, my gain.
Once again, he would not remind himself of the reality dawning with the sun tomorrow. Today, he would allow himself to pretend this feeling would last forever. He’d earned one last slice of fantasy as a reward for all the emotional growth.
“Oh, this is amazing!”
The unspoiled castaway side of the island was even more beautiful than the resort side. There were almost no signs of humanity around the small beach nestled into the wild tropical growth, save for a small, rock-lined indentation that could be used as a fire pit.
Juan edged the boat as close to the shore as was safe, handing Evan the cooler once they’d hopped into the water. With a salute and a promise to radio in a few hours to see if they were ready for pickup, he pushed the craft away from the beach and disappeared back to the resort.
“I always wondered if there was something going on with Skip and Gilligan.”
Evan flicked out the provided blankets in a shady spot protected from the wind, pinning the corners with rocks while Heath dug through the cooler to see what treasures they had.
“It’s my personal opinion Ginger and Mary Anne bunked up and told those men where to stuff it.”
“I dunno. I have a feeling the professor was in on some of that stuffing.”
Heath lounged beside a spread of fruit and berries and ran the scenario through his mind. “You’re probably right. He was handsome and brilliant. I understand that’s attractive in a man.”
The way Evan rolled to look at him made his spine tingle.
“Are you… fishing?”
“Me? No! Terrible hobby. Those poor things getting speared and suffocated, then thrown away bleeding and traumatized.” He pondered it for another moment. “I have more in common with them than I care to admit.”
Evan laughed and grabbed his chin, tugging him down and wrapping his lips around the strawberry Heath held in his teeth. Together, they snipped it in half, the sweetness mixing with lust as Heath found himself rolled to his back and pinned by Evan’s perfect weight.
It was rare for him to enjoy being manhandled the way he allowed Evan to. For all that he’d been arm candy or a plaything to some of the men he’d dated, they were never in charge once their clothes came off. Evan gave as good as he got, and good lord, was he ever good at both.
“I might point out that of the two of us, I’m the one who ended up bleeding.”
Heath let his head fall back against the blanket, giving Evan better access to his neck and chest. Soft lips and tongue lured him into the press of teeth that followed. Maybe being the fish wasn’t so bad when Evan was the one reeling you in.
“It was for a heroic cause, and I’ve thanked you quite thoroughly, I believe.”
“I’m always open to a little more appreciation.”
“Now who’s fishing?”
They spent well over an hour in the water, with breaks for generous sunscreen reapplication.
Snorkeling through the coral or lazily floating on the gentle swells, then retreating to the blankets and towels to lunch on simple sandwiches of juicy chicken marinated in a spicy pineapple and mango glaze.
“Thank you for this, by the way. I mean, I know it wasn’t for me originally, but you could have canceled it, and I’m really glad you didn’t. This has been an amazing afternoon.”
Evan stiffened, but not in the way Heath preferred.
“Um, I actually have a confession.”
“I already know you’re not gay, don’t worry.”
“Well, there goes my surprise dinner announcement.”
Oh, lord. They had to tell the family before they left. Had to. The guilt was killing him.
“What’s your confession?”
He flopped onto his back with a sigh and draped a forearm across his eyes. Dramatic for a straight guy.
“I… didn’t actually arrange this.”
“You didn’t? But then…?” Heath pushed himself up to a better glaring position. “Oh.”
The flowers. This romantic outing. He hadn’t planned it for his ex. She’d planned it for him. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I thought the flowers did, but now I’m not sure. This,” he gestured broadly at their cozy picnic, “doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“What was wrong with the flowers?”
“Roses were my mother’s favorite. Red, especially. She had a garden at the house overflowing with them. It was still blooming, last I checked.”
His acute melancholy lured Heath closer, his hands rubbing over the spot on Evan’s chest where his heart beat strongest. “That sounds lovely. As a rose fan myself, they’re prickly to work with, and not just the thorns. But when you find a spot they like, they reward you so beautifully.”
“You garden?”
“I dabble.” He wouldn’t mention the jungle inside his condo. Or the seasonal garden he’d been tending at his mother’s since he was a child. Evan didn’t need to know all his obsessions. Just the ones relevant for here and now. “So, what do you think she meant by them?”