Page 24 of Seven Year Itch
I make a noise. “Well,asshole,douchebag,whiney baby, anddramatic loserwere already taken, so...”
He tips his head back and laughs at my joke. It’s a deep, rich sound that makes me smile, and the wave of butterflies that erupt in my stomach is embarrassing. What is going on here? Why do I like making Calder laugh? Why is he actually laughing at me instead of poking me back? These aren’t the normal Calder/Dakota vibes I’ve grown accustomed to. I call him Killer Calder because he ruins everything he touches and he doesn’t care about anything. I can’t forget that. Is this tropical air shifting things between us? If so, I am not a fan.
He stretches his arms out wide by the birdcage, and I stop myself from shoving him against the iron bars this time. When I hear his footsteps following me to the door, I turn and look over my shoulder. “You’re coming in?”
“Not for kissing, relax,” Calder huffs. “I’m just going to pull my bed out and set it up now, so I don’t wake you up later when I come in.”
“Oh.” I watch him begin to pull the sofa bed out and make my way over to the closet to grab the bedding I saw in there earlier.
“Thanks,” he says, and our hands brush as he takes them from me, causing a tingle to run up my spine.
“Thanks for giving me the big bed,” I reply coyly.
He hits me with a knowing look. “Didn’t really have a choice, did I?”
“I did win the volleyball game.”
“Oh, is that why you get the bed? I didn’t know we had stakes in the game. I would have quit taking it easy on you.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself to help sleep at night, Killer.”
I shoot him a wink, and he laughs that deep throaty timbreagain, and I have to turn away from him before he sees my cheeks flush. This is really stupid. Why am I acting like this? It must just be because he looks good in that white linen shirt, and I’m not used to seeing him outside of flannels and jeans. It was hard not to stare back at him all night at dinner. That sun he got today gave him a bronze-god glow that suits him well.
I inwardly curse myself as I realize I’m fawning overCalder Fletcher—the asshole who ruined my wedding dress and my house.Get your shit together, Dakota.
I grab my toiletry bag and shut myself away in the bathroom and am relieved when I come out to find he’s gone. Whatever that laughing, flirty exchange we had a moment ago was needs to stop. He saw my tit earlier, for God’s sake. I should be mortified, not making him laugh and enjoying it.
My brain is obviously foggy from the travel, and I’m not thinking clearly. Just a few more days of this. I can do this. A hot shower and a good night’s sleep will help clear my mind. Everything will look normal in the morning.
Calder
I’m going to kill her.
I’m going to take a pillow and make the nickname she’s pegged me with a true story. At least if she’s dead, she won’t need the bed, and then I can get off this fucking bag of rocks they call a sofa bed in this godforsaken palapa.
I’ve been lying here for hours trying to will myself to sleep. I’ve moved pillows, I’ve lain on pillows, I tried the floor. I even attempted putting the bed back into the sofa position to see if that would help.
Nothing helps.
At one point, I just stared through the curtain at Dakota as sheslept on one side of the giant circular bed. She was barely using twenty percent of the mattress! I considered sneaking onto the bed quietly because she wouldn’t even notice I was there.
But knowing her, she probably has fucking pepper spray tucked under her pillowcase, and my tender nose wouldn’t be able to handle that kind of assault.
I’m in hell.
And as the sun begins to peek up over the horizon of the ocean, I think I’ve gone completely mad.
“Motherfucker!”
“What is your problem?” Dakota exclaims, and I see the outline of her shoot up from her bed behind the curtain. “I haven’t slept a wink all night because you won’t stop wiggling around and making noises!”
She marches over and yanks the curtain back, revealing herself to me in a T-shirt (no bra), silky shorts, and a sleeping mask. But not even her nipples pebbling through that thin top can improve the mood I’m in.
“Oh, pardon me, madam!” I roar, shooting up out of the bed to match her irritated stance. “Was thebed of nailsthat you stuck me on all night a little too noisy for you and your football field of a mattress? Tell that to my back that’s had to suffer through hours of involuntary acupuncture with rusty screws!”
“Oh my God, you’re such a diva.” Dakota walks over and pushes down on the mattress with her hand. “It’s not that bad. Carlos said it was very nice.”
“Go ahead, Ace. Give it a try.”
