Page 169 of Better When Shared
“Good call. It’s only about sixty degrees out there.” I watched as he bent to retrieve a light sweater from his suitcase, the khaki shorts pulling tight across his ass. Very nice.
“Come on, Mr. Adventure. Your chariot awaits.”
We rode the elevator in silence, his discomfort radiating off him in waves. In the lobby, he nodded stiffly to the staff, maintaining that peculiar British formality even while following a stranger to an uncertain fate. Outside, he hesitated at the sight of my truck, eyeing the surfboards strapped to the roof rack with suspicion.
“That’s your vehicle?”
“Yep.” I opened the passenger door for him, gesturing with a flourish. “Your assistant didn’t pay for the limo upgrade.”
He climbed in reluctantly, and I closed the door behind him, circling around to the driver’s side. The cab wasn’t large, and when I slid behind the wheel, our shoulders brushed as we both reached for our seatbelts. He jerked away like I’d burned him, fumbling with the buckle.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“No problem.” I started the engine, stealing a glance at his profile—straight nose, surprisingly long eyelashes, that aristocratic jaw clenched tight enough to crack walnuts. I loved getting tightly strung people to unwind, loved seeing what could happen when they relaxed.
Preferably while naked.
Chapter 3
Hamish
“So, are you always this chatty, or is it just me?” Makai asked.
I cleared my throat, eyes fixed out his truck’s window. “Sorry. Not much of a morning person.”
“I am. Best time to surf. And surfing is a great way to start the day. Good for the nerves.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“Trust me.” He flashed a grin that made my stomach flip, which was weird. Maybe it was just because he seemed so much cooler than me.. “Nothing clears the head like the rush of catching a wave.”
“Or maybe it’s the frigid temperatures making brain function impossible?”
He burst out laughing, then shook his head. “Nah, I grew up in Hawaii. These frigid waters are new to me.”
“Ah.”
He gestured towards a bakery bag. “I’m guessing you didn’t have breakfast? There are some blueberry muffins in the bag. Made with fresh blueberries from a farm on the island. And I wasn’t sure what you drink, so I got you tea. Seemed properly British.”
I picked up the cup and frowned at the unfamiliar tea bag label. “It’s not Yorkshire Gold. The only brand of tea I’ll drink.” There was no way I’d be drinking what Americans thought passed for proper tea.
“It won’t hurt to try it,” he coaxed. “It’s a local blend. Organic. And the sexy bedhead thing you had going when you opened the door tells me you only just woke up.”
Sexy bedhead? I ran my fingers through my hair, my cheeks going hot.
“Eat,” he ordered.
Sighing, I opened the bag and pulled out the sweet confection, taking a careful bite, balancing a napkin underneath so I wouldn’t make any crumbs. It was really good, and I was hungrier than I’d realized. And, of course, eating made me thirsty, so I broke down and drank a little of the tea, which was nothing like Yorkshire Gold, but not entirely unpleasant.
We turned onto a narrow road lined with towering evergreens that blocked most of the light, creating a tunnel of green shadow. The trees gave way to an open vista of shoreline, the water stretching endlessly toward a horizon punctuated by distant islands. A wooden sign welcomed us to Cannery Beach State Park.
“Here we are,” Makai announced, pulling into a gravel lot near a weathered building. “Best beginner spot on the island.”
I stared at the waves rolling toward shore. They were larger than I’d expected, each one a potential death trap. My throat tightened.
“Relax,” he said, killing the engine and turning to face me. “We’re getting a feel for the place. No pressure.”
I climbed out of the truck and took my tea with me, not because it was good, but because I needed something warm in my hands. And when I took a sip, that was also definitely for warmth.
