Skye #2
His scent was the first thing I noticed, before my own eyes were even open.
That made no sense because the last time I checked, I was alone in this villa.
I sat up slowly, curls falling over my shoulders, and found Ducane Simmons standing near the terrace door, looking entirely too comfortable for a man who had not been invited inside.
“Ducane, why are you being a creep in my room?”
“I always loved it when you wore your hair like that.”
“Cane.” I squinted at him. I wanted to reminisce, too, but I was afraid to expose myself that way. “Why are you here, and when did you decide boundaries were optional?”
“It's eight thirty, Spot. I gave you space past seven, figuring you were just running behind, but I knocked for ten minutes straight after that and thought the worst.” He looked me over once. “Turns out you were just exhausted. Still snoring like a bear in hibernation. I just let you sleep.”
Eight thirty made me lunge for the lamp and then my phone. Several missed calls from him and Airalynn. I wasn’t surprised that neither of us had changed our numbers.
“My bad. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Jet lag.”
“I ain’t trippin. I had them set dinner up on the beach instead.” He paused just long enough. “We could—”
“Pivot.”
He grinned, and it was the same grin from the first day of class, wide and unbothered and fully aware of its own effect. “I knew you remembered.”
“Ducane.”
“Witness protection, fake names, I was going to coach using nothing but movie quotes. You were going to—”
“I told you no past. Those were the terms.”
“You said no pops and no past.” He tilted his head. “That’s not the past. That’s still a possibility. That’s the future.”
“Get out so I can get dressed.”
“Aight. Beach in twenty.”
I stood and stretched as he left. I let myself have exactly one second of feeling terrible about being late before my mind reminded me to give this man hell. Then my stomach growled, and I decided hell could wait. I was starving, and there was dinner on a beach with my name on it.
I prayed while I got dressed. A real prayer, asking God to keep me in my right mind and out of my feelings.
I did not want to be in some twilight zone situation.
Spin the block energy needed to arrive in an Escalade, not a hooptie, and right now I had no way of knowing which one this was. Was I Keyshia Cole or Ashanti here?
The white dress was basically sheer with splits up both sides. I put on a white bikini on underneath it and decided on bare feet for the walk to the beach.
Infinity Island was beautiful. I’d only been here once, and it was just a layover, same as this time, so I was a little sad I’d fallen asleep and missed exploring. I made a mental note to fix that before my flight home tomorrow.
The setup stopped me when I got there. Candles lined the low tables, rose petals covered the ground and the tables between them, the water dark and moving just past it all. I stood at the edge of the sand, asking myself one honest question.
Was this that?
Seeing him had my head spinning before I even sat down. The nerves and the curiosity were fighting each other, and honestly, the curiosity was winning, which was its own kind of problem. Whatever he was about to say, I’d been bracing for it since that corridor on the plane.
I walked toward the table anyway because it was the only way I was going to find out why my sister had decided to stick me with the last person I wanted to see and be completely unapologetic about it.
The small speaker was playing Lucy Pearl. I hated that no one knew such intimate details about me. I grinned, just answering my own question. This was why Airalynn had stuck her neck out.
He was sitting at the table whispering with a member of the staff when I came down the steps to the setup. He looked up, and I saw the pain of every mistake he had made regarding me sitting right there on his face.
When I got to the table, Ducane stood. I had forgotten that about him, that he was always a gentleman, and it caught me off guard how much that still got to me. It was the reason his parents never understood what we had. Ducane was putty in my hands, and everybody could see it except him.
“You look beautiful, Skye.”
“Thank you.” I sat down and reached for the wine because my hands needed something to do. “This is a lot for one dinner.”
“Don’t start.” He said and moved on before I could respond. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
I cleared my throat. “How’s the firm?”
He looked at me.
“What? You said dinner. We’re having dinner. I’m making conversation.”
“You hate small talk, and you damn sure don’t give a shit about Shane & Simmons.”
“I’m being polite. I’m trying to ease us into this. And I do give a shit about your work. I always have.”
He smiled and didn’t argue back.
He answered briefly because he was correct. I didn’t give a shit about Shane & Simmons, but he’d done what he said he would: become a successful attorney. I was proud of him for that. He was good at what he did. There was no denying that.
We moved on, with him asking about Premier Wings and how ironic it was that I was finally here.
He knew I had been running from it for years.
I told him about Pissy Pants Hank, and his whole face opened up into that laugh that made me forget I was supposed to be annoyed with him.
It was soup for the soul. Warm, filling, exactly what I didn’t know I needed.
It was bad that I still thought of it that way.
I refilled my glass because I could feel the shift happening with his eyes locked on mine. I needed something to do with my hands.
“Skye.”
“We’re not doing that.”
“We haven’t done anything yet.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” I uncovered my plate. Grilled fish, shrimp, rice, and vegetables. “This looks good.”
“It does.” He wasn’t looking at the food.
“Down, boy.”
“Skye, how can we move forward if you keep dodging the conversation?”