Page 58 of The Billionaire's Teacher

“All right. I’ll be Gunga Din.”

She shook her head. “You have weird cultural references.”

“I like movies.” I shrugged and picked up the pot. “Old ones. New ones. Doesn’t matter. At least I haven’t mentioned having a brain cloud.”

“Except you just did. Thankfully, we have no volcano here, so I’m not going to call you Joe. So we should be good. Get the water. Dinner awaits.”

I headed back down the hall to the rain barrels outside. She was entirely too close to perfect. Definitely not a flibbertigibbet, if I was going to keep the movie reference intact.

I sighed.

Too bad sailing off into the sunset was off the table.

16

SUNSHINE

Iran my hand over the leather that covered the plane’s seat and had to force myself to keep my jaw locked so it didn’t drop. This plane was…beyond.

I looked over at Wes. He was tipped back in his seat, eyes closed. Like this was no big deal. I guess, to him, it wasn’t.

Talk about being from two different planets.

This washis plane. Even if he was quick to qualify that he shared ownership with his friends, all of them were billionaires in their own right. Sharing the plane didn’t make it better. He still owned it.

And if I understood what he was muttering about yesterday after we did our short dive? He was considering buying that island.

Who bought an island?

Even more, who talked about doing so as if it was no big deal? Obviously, for Wes, it wasn’t a big deal. But he talked about it like I’d talk about buying new flip flops. Honestly, I think I probably put more thought into new beach shoes than he was putting into the island. Especially since he’d have to sink even more into the place to make it habitable.

Would he live there?

My heart raced at the thought of Wes being near enough that I could reach him on a boat.

Dumb.

I couldn’t say he hadn’t given any indication that he was interested. I’d caught a few looks. A few touches that he probably could have avoided, if he’d wanted to. But he wasn’t making a move.

It was for the best. We were on our way back to Puerto Rico. Just a two-hour flight, since we didn’t have to deal with commercial airlines and all the hassles thereof. Just one more nice aspect of private air travel: flights were always direct, unless you didn’t want them to be for some reason.

“Do you want something to drink?” Wes didn’t open his eyes.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Just resting my eyes.”

I snickered. “Okay, old man.”

He opened one eye and glared at me. “Careful.”

“Oooh. Or what?” Why was I flirting? Hadn’t I just had this conversation with myself? Ugh. No willpower. At. All.

“I’ll call you old lady.” He smiled and unfastened his seatbelt. “I’m getting a soda. Want one?”

“If you’re up, sure. Although, I’d rather have cold, bubbly water. I don’t imagine that’s available?”

“Let me see. We usually keep it pretty well stocked in here. I know for a fact that Whitney and Kayla both like that stuff.” He moved into the little galley area toward the back of the plane.

---