Page 71 of (Not So) Famous in Paradise

“I did.” He walks around the sofa and stands in front of me, all smiles. Then his eyes drop to my chest and his jaw goes slack.

I follow his gaze to my wide-necked sweater which swoops low enough across my chest to show a fair amount of cleavage. My eyes go back to Zach’s almost as fast as the heat that rushes to my cheeks. I tug on the sweater to straighten it, but the look on Zach’s face stops me.

Because, unless I’m mistaken—and I think I know guys’ brains well enough to know I’m not—Zach likes what he sees.

And even though I’m not sure how I feel about that, I leave my sweater as it is, showing more skin than I typically do.

Usually, I’m very self-conscious about the size of my boobs. Most of the time I keep the girls under wraps because I don’t want them to be the only thing a guy sees when we first meet.

But I’ve known Zach a long time. Forever, even. And I like it that, for the first time, he’s looking at me like I’m someone besides the girl next door. I’m a woman with curves who can stop a man in his tracks. Including the man I want to notice me more than any other man does.

“You’re back already?” I sit up straighter and pull my shoulders back because now I do know how I feel about Zach looking at me like he is.

I like it.

I like it a lot.

He swallows hard and nods. “It was a quick trip.”

“To see Carly?” I probe.

His answer will determine whether I readjust my sweater to keep everything under wraps.

“No,” he answers, his head jerking back. “Why would I do that? We broke up.”

“Oh…I thought, I mean…” I drop my shoulder and let the sweater slip a little farther. “Good.” I smile. My first real one for him in days. “So, why did you go?”

The smile he returns warms my whole body. “To pick up something I think you’ll like.”

“What is it?” Gifts are my love language. And Zach has one for me.

“Come see.” Zach holds out his hand and pulls me up.

We walk to the kitchen table, my hand still in his. It’s a short distance and not the first time we’ve held hands, but it is the first time his palm in mine sends shock waves through my whole body.

“What is it?” I ask again, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

“Open it.” He squeezes my hand.

“You do it. I’m too excited.” I don’t want to let go of him. Ever.

But someone has to open my gift, so I drop his hand.

Zach laughs, digs his car keys from his front pocket and slides them through the tape. With the excitement of a kid on Christmas, he opens the box flaps. Then he moves aside tissue paper to reveal a beautiful abstract painting.

I step closer for a better look. My breath catches with the clearer view. “That color is incredible. It’s a thousand different blues.”

I lift my hand to touch it, then pull it back.

Zach nods. “Yep.” He opens the flaps wider, so I can see the entire piece. “But look at the shades of white and pink and orange.”

He traces his fingers over the waves of color floating in and out of an ocean of blue.

“It reminds me of the sun rising over the lake.” I lean closer, wanting to pick it up and examine it more closely. But it’s at least two feet long, and despite the frame being thin wood, the painting looks heavy.

“That’s exactly what it is! I knew you’d see it!” His hand rests on the small of my back, and he moves so close, the light scent of his soap fills my nostrils. “The artist has painted a bunch of these while sitting right here on Little Copenhagen’s beach. When I saw this one, I knew it was the one you’d want. It’ll be perfect for that spot over the mantle in Granny’s house.”

I hear his words, but they take a few seconds to register. I have to blink back my surprise. “It is absolutely perfect,” I say softly.

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