I’m supposed to meet Maggie in the lobby at ten for our grand expedition. I show up at five to. My head is clearer after a full night’s sleep, my swim stuff tucked in my tote bag—I’m prepared for anything and ready to leave all the drama behind.
So naturally within ten seconds of my stationing myself near the front doors, Will appears. I make myself smile as he walks over, but my hand tightens around my purse strap. Doesn’t the guy have enough work here to keep him out of my hair for more than an hour?
And does he have to look so good in the meantime? That relaxed white button-down, open at the collar to offer just a glimpse of chest, acknowledges every inch of the muscled territory underneath and brings out his tanned skin. His fitted slacks make me wish he was walking in the other direction—for the view as much as so I didn’t have to face another awkward conversation.
“I’m just waiting for Maggie,” I say pre-emptively. “She should be down any minute now.”
“Actually,” Will says, “that’s why I’m here. She was doing a test run in the kitchen this morning, something to do with the wedding cake, and apparently there was a problem because of the humidity or . . . it wasn’t entirely clear to me. There were a lot of technical baking terms involved.”
My heart sinks. “Which means . . . ?”
“I’ve sent someone to grab extra ingredients from town, and she says she needs to do some experimentation to make sure she’s got the right fix.”
“So today’s a wash. Okay.” I guess I can take another trip to the spa? Laze around on the beach? A restless twitch runs through my body at the thought.
“Not entirely,” Will says. “Not if you don’t—” He runs a hand through his hair, rumpling the dark brown waves. His gaze dips for a second, and with a jolt I realize he’s nervous. Nervous of me?
“I’ve been thinking maybe we got . . . re-started on the wrong foot,” he says, looking at me again, almost hopefully. “I’ve cleared my schedule for the day, and I’d really like it if we could hang out, the way we used to—I’ll take you around, we’ll shoot the shit, nothing too intense.”
“As friends?” I say, trying to read between the lines.
“Well . . .” A glint lights in his eyes. “If things happen to take a turn in another direction, who am I to get in the way? But no pressure, no expectations. No Jumbotrons or flash mobs. I promise.”
A tingle races over my skin. The man is too fucking charming for his own good.
But even as I hesitate, I realize he’s extending an olive branch. He’s got so much less to make up for than I thought he did. If the last few days have been messy, it’s been mostly my fault. My misunderstanding. I can’t hold that against him. When I stop filtering his behavior through all that skewed history, he’s actually been incredibly accommodating.
I can’t deny that the idea of spending the day together without the shadow of that unfounded pain hanging over me is appealing. Would it really hurt that much to give this friendship—and whatever else it might be—another chance? He has no idea how I felt back then, and he never needs to know.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s do it.”
Will’s eyebrows arch, and my face warms, but not so much that I can’t smack him in the arm the way I would have five years ago. “You know what I mean. Get that mind out of the gutter, Cassidy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says innocently. “Come on. There’s a jeep that can handle the roads around here waiting out front.”
“And where is that jeep going to take us?”
“I’ve got it all planned out,” he says. “Let me surprise you.”
Will drives with the same confidence he brings to everything: one hand on the wheel, the other skimming through the music on his phone, still taking every turn at just the right angle. I sink into the buttery leather seat, just glad I’m not the one navigating the jungle.
“You know, I think I still have . . . There!” A triumphant grin stretches across his face as a song peals through the speakers. It takes recognition a second to kick in. Then I cover my face with a laugh.
“I still can’t believe you bought their album. What were they called . . . ? Social something . . .”
“Social Malfunction.”
I laugh.
“I just felt so sorry for them after that horrific performance,” Will says. “The music really isn’t that bad when they’re not contending with a broken amp and a drummer who went overboard with whatever upper he was on. It sets the mood, anyway.”
It does. The clanging guitars and hoarse vocals of the band that played at the college bar that one night—that had us cracking up harder than any comedy show and created many a running joke for months afterward—follows us along the bumpy road and down the highway to another little beach town tucked out of view amid the trees. The owner of the coffee shop we duck into nods to Will as if they’re old friends.
“Two of my usual,” Will says, and then to me, “You’ll like this.”
“That’s a pretty easy prediction,” I say. “I’ve yet to meet a coffee bean I couldn’t get along with.”
But when the guy sets down two steaming mugs in front of us, one whiff of the rich, almost peppery aroma makes my mouth water. I sip it slowly, managing not to burn my tongue. I sigh with pleasure. “Okay,” I say. “Point to you. Forget getting along—I’d happily get hitched to this brew.”
Will smiles over his own mug. “It’s a local blend,” he says. “Exclusive. I keep trying to convince him to let me serve it at the resort, but Raul is a tough sell.”
“So there are some deals even the great Will Cassidy can’t negotiate.”
He laughs. “I’d like to think only a few.”
The caffeine leaves me with a mellow buzz that puts a spring in my step as we amble toward the water. It’s another clear day, and the sun sparkles over the ocean as if it’s sprinkled with gems. I’m feeling game for just about anything until Will motions me over to a little shop with a stack of scuba tanks out front. Inside, the wooden walls are hung with wetsuits and swim fins.
“I can’t take you to an alien planet,” Will grins, “but what do you say to exploring the ocean a little more in depth? Fins, snorkels, and waterproof cameras—I know a perfect spot.”
My body has balked instinctively. Why did he have to pick this of all the possible activities? “I, ah, I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t think snorkeling is really my thing.”
Will bumps his elbow against mine. “Are you kidding me? Imagine the strange new worlds we can explore.”
Dear Lord, is he really quoting Star Trek at me now? This is so embarrassing. “I just get kind of uncomfortable, going all that far out in the water.”