I don’t know whether to laugh or smack him with a pillow, so I say, just as calmly, “Nope.”
“That’s too bad.” His long legs sprawl out before him. “I saw one a few nights ago with Cal that was pretty good.” Then he proceeds to tell me, in great detail, all about this movie.
After about twenty minutes of frustrating small talk, he finally stands up and stretches his arms over his head. Golden skin peeks out in a small slice of yummy skin between shorts and shirt. “Okay, let’s go.”
“Go?” I fear I’m drooling.
His half-smile quirks; a cacophony of butterflies takes off in my stomach. “Yup. Go.”
Kellan takes me back to the strip mall we’d been at earlier. Once the engine’s off, he turns to me. “I want you to close your eyes.”
I have a million questions, but then I think about Callie’s new mantra, and what Kellan was trying to do. Live in the moment.
And, more importantly, I trust him with my life. So I nod, closing my eyes.
“No peeking, okay?”
I nod again.
I hear him get out of the Jeep; gravel crunches before my door opens. His warm hand takes my arm and he guides me out, not letting me stumble once as my feet hit the ground. We walk what feels like a good distance, before there’s a slight slope, one I don’t remember seeing. Had there been a slant in the buildings?
Voices sound nearby, but they quiet down the closer we get. Suddenly we head up a slope. “Take a really large step forwards.”
I do as he asks. The ground under me shifts.
I grip him much more tightly. “Is it me or did the ground just move?”
He chuckles. “Step down.” Then he leads me a little further, the ground below me rocking. “Okay, open your eyes.”
And I gasp, because we’re standing on the deck of a beautiful white boat. Two men nearby begin untying it from the dock as another two jump on board and head towards the bow.
I clap my hands like a little girl and squeal. “Kellan, do you have a boat in addition to a zillion houses?”
“This is a rental. And it’s a yacht.”
“I can’t believe we’re on a boat!” I’m still squealing as he leads me to a cushioned bench curving around the back.
“Yacht,” he clarifies again. “And you said you wanted to see the Nā Pali coast either by boat or helicopter. I just figured it would be easier to have dinner at sea. This okay?”
“Is this okay?” I’m bouncing in my seat. “Of course it’s okay! This is awesome!”
The yacht cruises the entire length of the Nā Pali coastline; from this vantage, it’s even more spectacular. Then we come back part way, lowering anchor in front of a gorgeous valley. The very same valley, I believe, that Kellan introduced me to just hours before.
One of the men brings up a small table and two chairs to set up on the deck. “I had really, really short notice,” Kellan says, pushing my chair in for me, “so I just ordered chicken. I hope you don’t mind.”
I can’t even answer that as I’m still so stunned we’re on a yacht. In the Pacific. In front of one of the most gorgeous sights ever.
As soon as they determine we’re okay and don’t need anything at the moment, the two men on board retreat below the deck, leaving Kellan and I alone.
“You are the best Kellan,” I sigh happily after taking a tiny bite.
He doesn’t hide the wistfulness that flashes across his face fast enough. “I’m glad you like it.”
It’s only around five o’clock, still sunny on the island, but there’s a shadow falling across the coastline. A set of twinkling Christmas lights flare to life above us. Music floats over the deck, soft, dreamy, and perfect for dancing.
It’s unbearably romantic. How can a girl handle such things? First Tahiti, now this?
“I’m really glad I ran into you today.”
He fiddles with his fork. “All the girls say just that when I take them out on yachts.”
I know he meant it as a joke, but I can’t find it funny. Jealousy rears its ugly head once more. “So you do this often?”
He gives me a look. “No, C.”
Even still, I can’t help but feel bitter at all the nameless, faceless girls that get his time when I don’t. “Do you ever bring them anywhere?” When he looks confused, I clarify, “You know, to any of your exotic homes?”
“No.” He’s clearly uncomfortable, shifting in his chair. “I never got around to telling any of them that I own any.”
Got. Not get. It shouldn’t make a difference to me, but it does. “What about Sophie?”
There’s that look again. “No.”
“You told me.”
“That’s different. Besides,” he murmurs, “technically they’re yours now, too.”