2. Kayla
TWO
KAYLA
I take another gulp of champagne and try again. “I swear, I’m not lying to you, Becca. Robert is not my type.”
Becca narrows her eyes at me, tossing her dark curls over her shoulder. “And who is your type, exactly? Because it seems like none of the guys I throw at you meet whatever your criteria is.”
The strong, deft fingers patching me up last night flash through my mind.
The reassuring, low rumble of Victor’s voice…
and the piercing fire in his blue eyes. The rasp of his stubble against my mouth when we kissed.
Even though it lasted a few seconds, I can’t stop tracing my fingers over my lips as I remember it.
Does he want me or not? I desperately wanted him to touch me, to slide his hands higher up my thigh. I thought he might, for a second, but then he got up and left abruptly. Maybe he could sense that I don’t do this kind of thing that often. Maybe I did something wrong.
I exhale slowly and push these thoughts away. Even if he wants me, it’s not as though we can do anything about it. It would be totally inappropriate. It’s not a good idea to fantasize about your best friend’s dad.
Especially not when he’s staying just next door.
“I just haven’t found anyone with the right vibe.” It’s not a lie. My friends are all in happy relationships and they see my single status as a reason to set me up with a bunch of their boyfriends’ friends. Every one of them has been more average than the last.
And now Becca is trying to set me up with the best man, Robert. At her own wedding.
“Anyway, I thought you’d be too busy to try to set me up with someone at your own wedding.”
We’re here for a few days in the lead-up to the ceremony and Becca has developed an itinerary packed with activities. She’s such a planner, whereas I’ve always been the kind of person who likes to go with the flow.
“This would make my wedding even better, Kayla! Imagine if you fell in love right here. That would be so special.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I warn her.
Unfortunately for Becca, the best man is not my type at all. He’s the kind of guy who has a waxed mustache and too many opinions about craft beer.
“C’mon, you have to have a romance while you’re here. For me.”
I giggle at the pleading expression on Becca’s face. As if her destination wedding in southern Spain isn’t already all about her.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Truth is, I have no idea how to explain to my best friend that the only man I feel any kind of connection with is her father. If I really did follow my instincts, that could be awkward as hell.
I haven’t spoken to him since he bandaged my knee and shoved a first-aid kit into my hands. When I came out of my room to head to breakfast, he was nowhere to be found, but appeared right as breakfast was ending with damp hair as if he’d been for a swim.
The only thing that reassured me was that he didn’t seem to be jumping at the chance to interact with anyone else, either. So maybe he’s not personally irritated at me, or something I did wrong during the kiss. His bad mood seems to be directed more at the world in general.
I know that he’s the one who’s paid for this luxury destination wedding for Becca and Russell, but he doesn’t seem to be enjoying it one bit. I guess seeing Becca’s mum with her new husband isn’t easy for him.
The activity on the agenda for today is a hike up to the cliffs overlooking the ocean. The track is dusty and steep, but the view out over the sparkling water is stunning.
I’m paired up with Robert for the hour-long hike, because Becca is nothing if not persistent.
I take another look at him. I guess he’s not bad looking on paper. The problem that I feel no attraction to him.
The contrast is especially stark when I think about how Victor’s hands felt on my skin last night. I can’t even remember it without feeling a chill of pleasure.
It doesn’t help Robert’s case that he’s insisting on explaining his entire record collection to me, and interrogating me about my own music taste. Which, much to his disappointment, is packed with early 2000s pop instead of what he tells me is real music.
I start to set a fast pace. If I really power walk, he’s out of breath enough that it’s difficult for him to talk. It doesn’t stop him trying.
I’m totally zoned out. His chatter is just background noise to the cloud of confusion in my head about Victor.
What happened yesterday was nothing, I tell myself. The tiniest of moments.
The aching need between my legs when Victor crosses my mind tells me that I’m lying to myself.
He kissed me…and my heart started racing. I tried to deepen it, running my hands through his thick hair and pulling him closer, but he pulled away.
And now I can’t stop thinking about it. What did it mean? Why did he kiss me and then rush away like that?
By the time we get to the top, I must have heard Robert’s in-depth discussion of at least twenty records, where he found them, and his favorite tracks.
He’s barely asked me a question in return, not since I pretended I didn’t know who The Smiths were.
Robert and I are the first ones to arrive, thanks to the fast pace I set while trying to shut him up.
At the top, Becca has set up a full picnic. I don’t know how she hauled all these rugs and baskets up that hill — it’s so typical of her, to use her own wedding trip as an excuse to plan a pile of elaborate activities.
“Need any help?” I ask her.
“Kayla! Robert!” She grins like a maniac when she sees us together, then launches into an in-depth explanation of how to arrange the throw pillows she’s shoving at us.
I take the opportunity to get as far away from Robert as possible, setting up one of the rugs on the other side of the hilltop, but he follows me over to the rug and launches into another tirade.
I exhale slowly and stretch my lips into a polite smile. Short of asking him to stop talking, I don’t know how to tell him that I’m going to scream if he tells me about another record.
I’m relieved when I hear another voice behind us.
Victor is here as well.
It’s ridiculous and a bit embarrassing, the way my body fills with excitement when I turn to look at him.
From the looks of his outfit, he’s jogged up the hill.
With his dark hair swept back from his forehead and his blue eyes as piercing as ever, he’s distractingly handsome.
He’s wearing a fitted running t-shirt that hugs his broad shoulders and muscled biceps.
I realize that I’m staring and look away quickly, my face turning pink. He basically rejected me. I should have some self-respect.
Robert is looking at me expectantly, but I have no idea what he just said.
“That sounds cool,” I say vaguely, and his face lights up.
“It is?—”
“Kayla. Robert. Good to see you both.” Victor steps in and I steal another glance at his body. He’s not just tall, his muscles are thick and solid. I can see the swell of his pecs, not to mention the substantial bulge at one side of his shorts his shorts.
Victor and Robert shake hands.
My eyes return to Victor. It’s impossible not to stare, not when he looks this good.
A warm grin spreads across his face as he shields his eyes and looks out at ocean. “Look at that view. Almost makes the budget worth it.”
From the twinkle in his eyes, I know he’s joking. Besides, I’ve looked him up. The man’s company is worth a billion, and according to Becca, he’s picked up the bill for the entire wedding. None of us guests had to pay a cent.
“It’s certainly a million dollar view.”
“At least.”
Robert opens his mouth, no doubt to launch into another explanation of his favorite topic, but Victor cuts him off, smooths and confident. After a quick glance at Robert, his focus has returned entirely to me.
”How’s your knee, Kayla?”
Is this an apology?
The way he’s looking at me, I can tell he’s trying to give me an escape from my conversation with Robert. And I’ll take anything if it means I don’t have to hear another track list of a 90s indie group I’ve never heard of.
“Oh, it’s been sore.” I say quickly. “It’s really been bothering me.”
Robert makes a face. “You were walking faster than?—”
Victor’s face becomes serious and intense. “I’d better take a look.”
He places a hand on my waist and pulls me away from Robert to another path, leading down the side of the hill and away from the picnic.
“There’s actually nothing wrong with my knee, you don’t need to worry about it,” I tell him once we’re a safe distance away.
He lets out a warm laugh, glancing over at me. “I know. I was cornered by Robert at the engagement party, I know what he’s like. Thought you might need to be rescued.”
I laugh at that. “At least you might have more of an interest in vinyl than I do.”
He makes a wounded face. “Is that a comment on my age? I’ll have you know that I am a CD man.”
“And do you like to regale women with stories of your collection?”
Victor pushes a strand of hair back from my forehead and my insides turn to liquid. His smile is so goddamn disarming. Not to mention the intense experience that is looking into his blue eyes. “Would that work?”
I make a face. “Obviously not. I don’t think CDs are any better than records. Please tell me you just use Spotify like a normal person.”
“I might have bad news on that front,” he chuckles.
“Still, thank you for rescuing me. You’re almost forgiven for last night.”
A smile touches his lips again. “Don’t thank me. How do you know I don’t have an ulterior motive?”
“Did you do this just to get me alone?” I’m joking, of course, but he doesn’t respond, just keeps me in that blazing blue gaze and takes a step forward.
“You did?” I squeak.
He shrugs those giant shoulders as if it’s no big deal. As if I shouldn’t be worried about the fact that my best friend’s father is looking at me as though he wants to devour me.
“I do want to look at that knee again and make sure it’s healing.”
There’s an implication at the end of his statement.
“You don’t have to.” I’m getting whiplash from this man. Because despite his abrupt exit last night, he’s now looking at me like he wants to finish what we started.
“I know.”
I glance back at where the picnic is being set up. “Becca might be upset if I miss the picnic.”
“I could write you a doctor’s note.” The corner of Victor’s mouth quirks into a playful smile, the look in his eyes sending a fizz of anticipation right down my spine. “Your knee is injured. I think that’s a valid excuse.”
He slides a hand up from the bandage on my knee to the hem of my shorts and the warm, rough sensation of his touch makes up my mind.
“I think you’re right,” I say slowly. “I do need you to look at my knee.”
“Good. Let’s go back this way, before anyone notices.”
My heart races in my chest the whole way down the hill. I wasn’t sure yesterday, but now it sure as hell seems like Victor might want to do more than just help me with my injured knee.
Which doesn’t make this any more of a good idea. In fact, it’s still absolute madness.