Page 8 of Cheyenne

She was baffled. “You don’t think I can hold my own with men? News flash: I’m twenty-two. I’ve been holding my own for a couple years. I’m fine.”

“I don’t like that guy,” he said, looking concerned. “He asked you out the first night you’re here. Don’t you think that’s suspicious? Plus, he almost kissed you.”

“Do I think it’s suspicious that a cute guy asked me out? No. I think you’re being rude.”

Micah put his hand to his chest and broke out with the serious guy laugh. “Rude? Sure,” he said, waving a hand. “You’re beautiful. But that guy was just … I don’t know. You almost kissed him. What do you even know about him?”

Cheyenne was appalled that she had to explain herself, but her attention caught on the fact he’d said she was beautiful. She hesitated. “You want to know what I know about him? Fine. He goes to Duke Law School. He’s a first-year student, and his father owns a law firm. Some of his friends were supposed to come down here and meet him tomorrow for spring break.” She held back on the part where she’d known him in college and he’d asked her to marry him.

Micah put up his hand. “Did you tell him your friend was supposed to meet you before he told you that?”

Cheyenne hesitated, trying to remember, and then got irritated again. “I don’t know.”

“See?” He pointed at her. “He just told you the story you told him. But you don’t know if that’s the real story.”

She took a step back and put her hand to her head. “You think he just made it up to copy my own story?”

Micah shrugged, and his eyes moved back to the condos. They were still a fair distance from them, but he acted like someone could be listening in on them. His eyes swung back to hers. “I don’t know. My gut just says to be careful. What else are you planning to do this week?”

She shook her head. “I don’t really have to tell you, but clearly you’re not leaving.” She flung her hand into the air. “I have parasailing tomorrow at ten.”

“Right. Probably at the dock at the public beach.”

Cheyenne nodded.

“I can make that.”

She sputtered out a laugh. “What? You’re not coming.”

Micah shrugged again. “Why not? Since you were probably going with the friend that bailed on you, you probably have a ticket for an extra person. I’ll buy it off you.”

“No thanks.” Cheyenne didn’t need someone hovering over her, and this guy was kind of cocky, acting like he could just go with her. She turned away but called back over her shoulder, “I will make it clear to my brother that I don’t need a babysitter. You can get back to doing whatever spring break activity you were doing and pretend we never met. Again.”

Micah didn’t follow her. When Cheyenne reached her door, she looked back to find him walking the other way. Even though she had told him she didn’t need his help, it was rude that he wouldn’t say goodbye. “Goodbye,” she called to him.

He turned back and gave her a confused look. “Goodbye,” he said uncertainly.

Cheyenne slipped into the apartment, all riled up. How dare he show up here just to keep track of her. And how dare her brother think she needed someone to keep track of her!

She whipped out her phone and moved across the condo, stepping out onto the back deck. She turned to look at the decknext door that belonged to Eli. He wasn’t there, and she was grateful for it. No need to make things more awkward.

She pressed Porter’s number.

“Hello,” he said after one ring.

“I do not need a babysitter. How dare you send someone to check up on me?”

Porter was quiet for a minute.

“Well? Nothing to say for yourself?”

Porter let out a long sigh. “Listen, I know you don’t need a babysitter, but I need to check up on you. Don’t blame me. When Dad put you in my care all those years ago, I felt fatherly over you. That’s Dad’s fault.”

Cheyenne’s irritation flared up again. It wasn’t just the circumstance that bothered her; it was the fact that all of her brothers acted overly protective of her. “I’m not a minor anymore, Porter. I’m not in your care. I’m twenty-two.” It felt funny to her that in a single day, she’d had to remind two people of how old she was. Not that Micah would know her exact age.

Micah. She remembered how his blond hair looked. It was red in some places, and it had a natural wave to it. She thought of those brown eyes, like chocolate swirls. He’d been so angry about how he needed to fulfill his duty to watch over her. It was sort of cute.

No. She wasn’t going to think that way. She was only going to be here for a week.

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