Chapter 22
KATE
“Let’s go back to the bungalow,” Luke says, his grip tightening on me.
“Okay . . . are we done surfing?”
He pulls back to look at me.
I see the bright red blood on his lips. “Sorry, I think I—”
“You should try getting on your knees.”
Are we still talking about going back to the hut or . . .
He smiles, following my train of thought.
“On the board. Then, maybe later . . .”
I nod, my lips curving into a smile. The island air must be affecting my brain. I’m wanting things that I’m sure to regret once we get back to the States. But until then, I’m going to enjoy the ride he’s taking me on.
On the next wave, I finally get up onto my knees, cruising back to the beach. Luke shows off his skills on the board, and I love watching him. He’s clearly obsessed with the water. His body naturally glides over it, every muscle in his torso tense and defined with the effort.
We’re on island time, living in a bubble of flirtation, lingering hands, and fuzzy feelings.
Things might go back to the way they were when we get back to Dallas. He probably won’t keep kissing me like this when I’m sitting outside his office, answering the phones and getting his coffee. My heart feels heavy.
Don’t think about it.
We return the surfboards mid-afternoon, exhausted and hungry.
His arm curls around me as we walk back, wrapped in resort towels.
We cuddle on the deck, letting the sun dry us, kissing and touching each other’s warm skin.
It gets hotter every second. I feel like the inevitable has to happen tonight .
. . if he doesn’t get in a drunken fight again.
I desperately want to ask him about it, but he’s still my boss. The invisible wall separating us has collapsed, but I somehow know that it’s a temporary thing. He’s not mine.
He orders us room service, complete with a bottle of chardonnay. The lobster melts in my mouth, butter bursting on my tongue. I’d be enormous if I ate food this good all the time. How does he stay so fit?
“What time is the ceremony?”
He sits up, focusing his eyes on the exposed skin on my stomach, tracing the string of my bathing suit.
“The jet is fueled up and ready to go.”
My eyes jump up to his.
“We aren’t going?”
“You think they want me there after last night?”
I hesitate, unsure of how to answer. He did cause an enormous scene, and I’ll bet Garrison’s face looks almost as bad as Luke’s.
But if I had a brother and he didn’t come to my wedding, I’d be devastated.
“I think . . . Fallon will be crushed if you aren’t there.”
He looks up at me, fingers still igniting sparks on my skin, trailing around to the top of my hips.
“She might not forgive me for this.” His voice is low, barely audible.
There’s something unbelievably sexy about a strong man showing any sign of weakness. The tenderness of his emotional vulnerability does me in.
Oh shit, I am falling hard for this guy.
I take a deep breath, trying to shove down the unexpected emotions inside of me.
“She loves you. She’ll forgive you.”
My hand reaches out to take his, pulling his fingers up so I can gently kiss the cuts on his scarred knuckles.
He watches me, chest rising and falling.
We’re suspended in a moment of fantasy. It’s just us, the sound of the waves crashing and the sexual tension we’ve carried here from the fifty-sixth floor.
The sun is beginning to make its descent to the west side of the island.
“Well, if we’re going . . . you have about half an hour to get ready.”
“What? I have half an hour to get ready for the wedding of a supermodel?!”
I jump up, rushing inside to shower. The sand in my hair has to go.
I shampoo as quickly as I can before scrubbing all the crevices with soap.
My shave from yesterday will have to do.
I blow-dry my hair about seventy-five percent before slapping some makeup on my face.
Thankfully, I do the same routine every day, so it doesn’t take too long.
“This is horrible. Bleh. Why me?”
I’m having a pity party for my wild dreams of looking hot tonight and the idea of seeing Luke’s jaw dropping when he sees me.
My hair goes up in a messy bun that I hope is cute enough to pass for an updo.
Mel showed me a quick and easy way to do it and hide the flyaways. I curl the pieces hanging out.
“Not horrible, I guess . . .”
A crimson lipstick does wonders for making my simple hair and makeup look slightly fancy.
I hear a tap on the door.
“Can I jump in the shower when you’re done?”
“Oh! Sorry.” I open the door. “Go ahead. I’m finished.”
I walk out, wrapped in a towel, and he goes in, closing the door. After I pull the dress I found on sale at Dillard’s out of the closet, I notice a new garment bag laying on the bed along with a shoebox.
Curious, I walk up to it and unzip the white fabric. Inside is a shimmering aqua gown. As I remove it, it begins to resemble something a movie star would wear on the red carpet.
I’m stunned. Did Luke actually go out and buy me a dress?
The label says Haute Couture, which I’ve never heard of.
Fashion designers aren’t something I follow.
I squeeze into it. The cut is a little too tight around the hips, but the shape does wonders for me.
I look like a sexy mermaid princess. The neckline is high, wrapping around my throat, while the back is completely open down to the top of my butt.
The panels down the side of the hips and legs are completely sheer.
It shows a hint of side boob but not too much. It has tiny little sparkles woven throughout it, just enough so that it shimmers in the light.
The shoes are understated nude pumps with an open toe.
How did he do this?
My throat feels tight. I will not cry about a dress and shoes.
But it’s not just any dress and shoes. It’s a beautiful—no doubt expensive—dress with matching shoes.
I turn to look in the full-length mirror on the back wall of the bungalow as the door to the bathroom opens. The only sound is the waves as my body slowly pivots to face him.
He’s a dream in his fancy black tuxedo with his perfect hair and bright green eyes. The bruise on the top of his cheek under his eye is still noticeable, but it’s also kind of hot.
I’m under inspection, holding my breath as he places his hands in his pockets and takes me in.
“You know, I always heard the bride was supposed to be the most beautiful one in the room.”
I laugh as a tear slides out of my eye. “I . . . I don’t understand how you—”
“Fallon helped. I knew you needed a dress.” He shrugs like it was no big deal.
I’m about to start actually crying because the gifts were incredibly thoughtful for a guy who’s literally my boss, bringing me along to work.
My throat dries up when he steps closer and drops down to his knees in front of me. His eyes stay locked on mine as he grabs one of the shoes and holds out a hand.
I lift my foot up, holding my breath. His hand is warm as he gently wraps it around my ankle and slips the shoe on. It’s a perfect fit. After he gets the second one on, we both turn to look at my reflection in the mirror.
His gaze licks over me, making my skin heat.
“We need to go, or we’ll miss the whole thing,” he says, rising to stand before tugging me along through the door.
We make it just in time, sliding into the back row as the music begins to play. One bridesmaid goes down the aisle while Henrik stands next to Garrison. The groom’s face is in the same beat-up state as Luke’s, except Garrison’s looks nervous instead of furious.
The ceremony is gorgeous, right on the beach as the sun sets, the sky filled with a peach-pink hue. Fallon looks like an actual angel descended from heaven in a pure white gown that floats around her feet as she walks toward her future husband. Happiness radiates from her, and we can all feel it.
Luke’s fists are clenched tight as they exchange vows, knuckles cracking open and bleeding again from his previous wounds.
His body is stone as they kiss. I can feel the tension radiating off of him. I know he loves Fallon, and I don’t have any details of what happened. The situation feels impossible. She truly looks elated to be up there.
After they walk back through and the guests begin to follow, Luke stands, pulling me to my feet.
I hope he doesn’t cause another scene.
He goes in the other direction, pulling me along through the trail leading back up to the resort.
I want to ask him where he’s taking me, but he seems to need a few minutes of silence. We end up at the resort office. A black SUV is already idling for us out front. The driver opens the door for us, and I climb in ahead of Luke.
“Where are we going?” I finally ask.
He gets in and leans his head back, eyes closed. “I told you, the jet is ready.”
My mouth drops open, and the car begins to move.
“We—I haven’t packed up yet.”
He might be able to afford to replace his personal items in the bungalow, but I can’t just go out and buy it all without feeling the effects in my limited budget.
“I had them pack it up for you.”
It’s that rich-people speak again. Snap your fingers, and somebody picks your laundry up off the floor. Irritation rises on my skin. I would have preferred to at least know we’d be leaving so soon.
Would it kill him to clue me in on the itinerary?
“What about your important meeting?”
“We’re doing it now.”
The SUV pulls to a stop in front of a restaurant as he speaks. “This shouldn’t take long, and then we’ll be off.”
I wanted to congratulate Fallon and celebrate her marriage. Despite our initial meeting and me thinking I was homewrecking her relationship, I like her.
Luke’s expression is hard and full of conviction. We aren’t going back to the reception.