14. Enough Sexual Tension To Hold up a Suspension Bridge…
14
Enough Sexual Tension To Hold up a Suspension Bridge…
Paige
After supper, Mac finds a deck of cards, a Scrabble board, and Monopoly in the hallway closet, and insists I play a game or twiddle my thumbs or do anything I want other than help out while he does the dishes. I choose solitaire with a side order of glancing at him while he cleans up the kitchen. Then he has a quick shower and changes into some shorts and a t-shirt he found in the bedroom closet. They’re too big on him and they’re covering up far too much of his body for my liking, but hey, I guess I can’t expect the poor guy to walk around shirtless the entire time we’re here. After that, he brings me outside and helps me into one of the lounge chairs so I can elevate my ankle. Some crazy part of me is hoping he’ll decide to lay down next to me, but of course he doesn’t. Instead, he just gives me that look again—the one that seems to say all the things I want to hear from him but won’t—then he says, “I’m going to head back to the plane to get some supplies. ”
“Can’t it wait until morning?” I ask, a little scared at the idea of being out here alone in the dark.
He shakes his head. “No. I have a much better first aid kit including ice packs and a couple of wraps. I want to get ice on that ankle tonight. Bring the swelling down if we can.”
Well, there he goes being all thoughtful again when I’m trying to remind myself of how surly he is by nature. “All right. Thank you.”
“I’ll be right around the corner. You can literally shout if you need me and I’ll hear you.”
“I’m not afraid to be out here alone.”
“Of course you’re not. You’re from New York.”
I chuckle a little, then watch as he disappears into the darkness. As soon as he’s gone, I let out a heavy sigh and stare up at the night sky. It’s bursting with stars again tonight and the moon is nearly full, leaving a white glow over the calm sea. I listen to the hypnotic sounds of the waves and feel the warm humid breeze that smells of saltwater. My life in New York seems like something out of a dream right now, even though it’s only been a few days since I left home. I think about Vivian, wondering if she’s worrying about me right now. She must be. She knows I would’ve texted her on the way to the resort from the dock to tell her all about the sexy pilot, and then again a dozen times after the wedding to fill her in on every detail. Desperation to talk to her sweeps over me, and for a second, I’m close to tears. I have so many things to tell her and no way of knowing if I’ll ever have the chance.
“I’m here,” I whisper into the wind. “I’m alive, my friend. Don’t worry about me.”
I stare up at the moon, watching as some clouds pass it by, listening for Mac, but all I hear is the sound of the waves and the crickets in the trees. I feel suddenly very alone, and want him to hurry back. It occurs to me that it’s odd how quickly I’ve grown attached to a perfect stranger. I suppose going through everything we’ve had to face over the last day and a half will do that to you. You get to know someone very quickly in a crisis. And even more when they carry you really freaking far in their big, strong arms.
All the moments we’ve shared come back to me at once—the glances that turn into direct eye contact, the laughter, the moments of pure frustration. Then him talking about his marriage at supper. One and done.
There you have it. No chance of a relationship with Mr. Sexy Pilot, which is honestly a bit of a soul-crushing disappointment, because somehow, on an instinctive level, I know it would be the most incredible sex of my life. Like, all ten toes pointed up at the sky. I also know myself, and I’m not a fling sort of girl. I’m a mate-for-life bird.
I suppose the good thing is that I won’t humiliate myself by trying to make a pass at him. Not now that I know his heart is closed for good. But honestly, there have been moments today when he gives me a look that says he may be opening up to the idea of something. Something short-lived, but still. Wouldn’t it be something ? Maybe that’s exactly what I need right now—to just let myself go for once and have all kinds of fun so I can go home with the confidence of a woman who’s had that man . It would be a secret only I know. Well, except I’d tell Vivian, obviously. I’d be giving myself a memory of feeling beautiful. Maybe if I went home like that, I’d be much better off. Maybe I’d have the confidence to go out and find my mate-for-life.
Or is that just an excuse I’m making because I can’t seem to stop myself from thinking about him lying on this lounge chair with me and doing all sorts of things that I’ve been missing out on for far too long? Come on, Coast Guard, please come soon before I make a total fool of myself .
I spot Mac’s outline in the darkness before I hear him. His arms are loaded up and I wish I could get up and help instead of laying here like a hot lump. My heart picks up its pace as he gets closer and I scramble for something clever to say. “Ahoy there,” I call. Ahoy there? Seriously? “Did you find everything you were looking for?” What am I, a cashier at Target now?
“Yup. I’ve got a few clothes, some bedding, the first aid kit, and best of all, a double magnum of vodka I forgot about.” He strides over to the lounge chair next to mine and sets everything down on it, then unzips the first aid kit and pulls out an ice pack. He squeezes and shakes it, then carefully places it on my ankle while I watch, completely mesmerized. I have never, in my life, felt so cared for by anyone, even my own mother. And here’s this gruff, grumpy guy doting on me like I’m made of very thin glass.
“How’s that feel?” he asks.
“Good. Well, cold, which is the whole point I suppose.” Oh my God, I’m officially rambling, which is what I do when I’m into a guy.
He gives me an amused look, then checks his watch. “We should leave that on for twenty minutes, then I’ll throw it in the freezer so it can be reused.”
“For a guy who hates planning things, you’re good at it,” I answer. There. That was better. I sounded strong with just a hint of flirt.
“I can do short term plans with the best of them,” he says. “Speaking of which, I’m going to make myself a vodka iced tea. Do you want one?”
“Yes, please. Make it strong and keep ‘em coming, barkeep.”
He salutes me, then says, “Your wish is my command.”
I gawk as he walks back into the house, making the door look small. My wish is his command. I like the sound of that. Well, sir, I wish you would ravage my body with your tongue.
I let my mind wander down that road until he returns, which is a huge mistake on account of the fact that I’m sure my cheeks are flushed and I’m wearing a very guilty expression. Thank God it’s so dark out.
He hands me the drink, our fingers brushing and sending a little thrill through my every muscle. “Thank you.”
“It could use some ice cubes, but it’ll get the job done,” he says, settling himself on the other lounge chair.
“And what job is that?” I ask, with a raised eyebrow.
“Helping us forget our troubles.”
“Ooh, I’ll drink to that,” I say, holding up my glass in his direction.
He’s about to take a sip, but stops so we can clink our glasses together. I give him a firm nod and say, “To forgetting our troubles.”
“To forgetting.”
I take a long, slow sip, testing out the drink. It’s strong and sweet, and I want to suck it back all in one go so I can shed my inhibitions and tell him all the things I want to do to him. Which is exactly why I shouldn’t be drinking.
He takes a few sips, then places his glass down on the side table between our chairs. “I was thinking about the … umm, sleeping situation and I figured it would be best if I sleep out here,” he says. “Under the stars.”
Ack! That sentence was like a death blow to my girl junk. “I’d offer to sleep out here but I haven’t forgotten that you’re a man .”
Raising one eyebrow at me, he says, “I’m glad because that’s exactly what I am.”
Oh, believe me, I know it. I haven’t forgotten for one second . Getting all flustered, I say, “You know what I mean. ”
“That I’m a chauvinist.”
“Hey, you’re the one who thinks of himself as an honorary boomer.”
“Fair,” he answers, having another sip of his drink.
We both lay back, quietly sipping our drinks, and after a few minutes, I feel a boozy calm come over me, as if all my worries are floating up into the night sky. Sitting up, I adjust the ice pack on my ankle then flop back against the chair again.
“Paige, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” I answer, feeling all bubbly and warm.
“I’m curious—your goal is to be an ad executive, right?”
“Yes.”
“But you’re a secretary right now, yes?”
I bristle a little at the word secretary, which is just such a loaded term. “I’m an executive assistant. I don’t just answer the phone and greet people. It’s a hugely-involved profession, especially when you’re working with someone at Guy’s level. I not only have to keep track of everything that’s going on at the company—every account and what stage it’s at, who’s working on it, what problems they’re encountering, what each client wants and needs—but I also have to be quick on my feet—anticipating and solving problems before they happen. If I’m off my game, the entire company could suffer, which is why being out here for more than a few days could be a total disaster.” I pause for another sip of my drink, not wanting to think about what could be happening back home.
“So it must pay well, then. If you have that much responsibility.”
“It’s one of those under-appreciated roles that a person takes because it’ll lead to something better. In my case, it will lead to me being an ad executive soon,” I tell him, looking over at him. “I’m not exactly taking the normal path to the top. It’s more of a side door approach.”
“Why not go through the front door?” he asks. “Get on as a junior ad exec, then move up?”
“That was the original plan. In fact, I took three years of marketing classes in college, but then I was offered a summer internship at Prescott working with Guy. It was a huge deal. Everyone in my program applied for it, so getting it was … well, it was an honor, really. It paid nothing, but I leaped at the chance to work with a legend. And when my time was almost up, his assistant quit, and he offered me the job with the promise of teaching me the business inside and out, which is not something you’d get out of a four-year degree.”
“So you quit school?” he asks, looking surprised.
Nodding, I say, “Yup. Much to my parents’ dismay.”
“I can imagine they would’ve wanted you to finish it.”
I let out a sigh, the memory of us arguing about it still fresh in my mind. “They didn’t get it—what a massive opportunity it was, and still is. They thought it was a huge mistake.”
“What do you think?”
“I think it was a calculated risk that is definitely going to pay off. I could practically run the company myself, to be honest. In fact, there are times when Guy is out of pocket and I make some major decisions on his behalf and tell people the orders are coming from him,” I answer.
Mac stares at me for a long moment, then says, “Huh.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. It just … seems a little crazy that he’s giving you that much responsibility but not the paycheck that goes with it.”
“It’s just temporary,” I answer, irritation bubbling to the surface of my chest .
“How temporary? Because yesterday you told me he was quite possibly a psychopath.”
“That was hyperbole. He’s demanding, but only because he gives so much for his career.”
“You sure that’s why? Because it would seem to me that a person shouldn’t have to put up with that arrangement for more than a few months.”
“It’s been six years.”
His eyes pop out and he opens his mouth, but I cut him off with, “But I haven’t had that much responsibility the entire time. It’s been a gradual thing.”
“Hmph,” he says, sounding completely unimpressed.
I take another gulp of iced tea, wanting to wash away this entire conversation. “It’s fine, really. I know what I’m doing, so you don’t need to give me a big speech about knowing my worth or something. It’s not something people who aren’t in the industry can understand. I’m lucky. Honestly, I am.”
“Yeah, I definitely don’t understand. From the outside, it sounds as if he’s the lucky one. That he’s got you doing what you do for far less than you should get.”
I bite my lip for a second, then say, “I can’t expect him to just hand over an exec position to someone who doesn’t have a marketing degree. He has to wait until people will respect me or he’ll be setting me up to fail. For now, my life has to be on hold and I have to put in long hours and give up things like vacations and weekends and sleeping at night, but that’s just so I can pay my dues.”
“Have you ever thought of finishing your degree at night maybe? Just to give yourself more options?”
I nod. “Yes, of course I have, but there’s never been a good time. We’re always going flat-out and my days and nights are spoken for. But it’s okay because at the end of the day, he’s got my back. It’ll pay off. I just have to be patient a little longer.”
He looks at me so intently, it’s as if he can see inside my brain. “Are you sure?”
Unable to handle the intensity of the moment, I turn my gaze out to the sea. “I mean, nothing is one-hundred-percent certain, but I believe it’ll happen.”
“I hope so. For your sake.”
He finishes off his drink and we’re both quiet for a minute while my mind spins with our conversation. I try to find a way to change the subject, but my thoughts refuse to morph into anything other than wondering if I’m right and that Guy will pay me back for all these years of loyal service.
“Hey, Paige?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you ever wonder if maybe Guy hiring a college student was by design?”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe he knew that if you didn’t finish your degree, you’d be beholden to him and he could string you along for as long as possible,” he says, quickly adding, “I mean, I’m not trying to upset the apple cart here or anything. I admit I don’t know him at all and I could be completely wrong, but based on what you’ve told me, it sounds possible.”
His words have a weight to them that I wish they didn’t, and the pancakes and vodka are suddenly sitting heavy in my stomach. “That’s what my parents think. And my best friend, Vivian. But they’re wrong. They don’t know him like I do.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I hear them for myself.
“Whoa, you sound like someone in an?—”
I cut him off before he can say it. “I know what that sounded like, but it’s not. He’s my boss. He expects a lot but he’s also taught me everything he knows. Seriously, he hasn’t held back in that regard, and he’s seriously a magician when it comes to getting clients and delivering what they need. Nobody knows more about gaining visibility than him. Nobody. And I’m incredibly lucky to have been able to absorb all that knowledge. I’ve been soaking it in like a sponge the entire time, and when I’m ready, I’ll be unstoppable.”
“Who decides when you’re ready? Him?”
“No, me,” I say with a shrug. “Honestly, I haven’t even asked him for a shot. Not for a long time anyway, but when I do, he’ll give it to me.” Okay, so I may be making it sound like more of a sure thing than it is, but the last thing I want is to have to continue justifying my job to someone who doesn’t know the first thing about my field.
“So when we get off this island, you can march into his office and say you want a promotion and a big raise, and he’ll give it to you?”
I nod, even though the thought of doing that sounds impossible. “I’d need to find the right time, of course. When I get back, there’ll be a mountain of things for me to get caught up on, but after that, sure.”
“I hope you do it. The second the timing is right. Or even right when you get back. Just … go in there and find out, once and for all.” He sits up and swings his legs off the chair. Standing, he reaches down and takes the ice pack off my ankle. “Time’s up. I’ll go pop this in the freezer.”
He disappears into the house, leaving me to mull all the questions he’s just put into my brain. Questions I don’t want to think about. Ones I have no way of answering until I get back to Manhattan. Although, deep down, there’s a tiny part of me that already knows the answer. And she knows I’m fucked.