Page 35 of Just One Summer with the Grumpy

“Here you go,”the medical assistant said, holding the door for me. I slipped through and into the lobby where Chase still waited. He’d found a shirt somewhere, or maybe he’d made a quick trip back to his room in the past forty minutes.

I thanked her and headed to the reception desk, but Chase shook his head. “It’s already been taken care of. I’ll walk you home.”

I glanced at the receptionist, who watched us with the sharpness of a mother hen. “Not home. We have an errand in town, remember?”

His eyes flicked to the woman, then back. “You need to rest.”

“Chase,” I said firmly. “It was a bloody nose. I’ll be a little sore, but it’s not a big deal.”

“No concussion?”

“None. Not even worth the hundred bucks or whatever you just paid.”

“Worth a thousand times that to make sure you’re okay.” He nodded to the receptionist, who barely inclined her head back, and held the door as we went outside. “I’m calling off that stupid bet.”

“Too late. I’d say you won pretty decisively. It’s a shame I won’t get those aviators though.” I looked down at my bikini top. “I should probably find my shirt.”

“I grabbed you one from the gift shop.” He tossed me a wadded-up piece of cloth.

I opened it up and brushed the fabric, which was covered in sequins that spelled out ISLE DE PURA VIDA.

“They didn’t have any others in your size,” Chase said.

I didn’t question how he knew my size. Slipping the shirt over my head to hide the coming blush, I nodded in approval. “At least the crocodiles will see me coming a mile away.”

“You sure you don’t want to go home and rest?” he asked when we reached the outdoors.

“No. I mean, yes, I’m sure. Tomorrow is too busy, so it has to be today.” I swept my hair over my shoulder, wishing I knew where my hairband had gone. Probably in that pile of sand somewhere.

“You still have sand in your hair.” He reached up and gently swept a hand along the back of my head—quickly at first, then softly and slowly combing through my hair with his fingers.

They say hair doesn’t have nerves, but I swear his touch sent electricity shooting down to my toes.

“It’s fine,” I said, turning to break contact and look directly at him.

When he saw my slightly bruised nose, he flinched and cupped my face in his hands, brushing my cheek with his thumb. His touch was so gentle, I could barely feel it—yet it still sent tingles along the surface of my skin. “I’m such an idiot,” he said softly.

“I mean, possibly. Or maybe I bring out your Olympic-level volleyball skills.” I took his hands and lowered them from my face. It could have been my imagination, but his breath seemed to hitch slightly. “If you really want to repay me, let’s walk to town instead of driving. It’s too beautiful outside.”

His mouth curved into a slow smile. “I have a better idea.”

Minutes later, I found myself hugging Chase from behind, the wind whipping past us on his motorcycle as we weaved along the narrow palm-lined road. Not as fast as I would have driven if given the chance though. Chase drove carefully, deliberately, as if worried to go a single kilometer above the speed limit. He’d given me the helmet yet looked completely unaffected by the wind behind his beloved aviators.

When we reached the main road and parked, I slid only a few inches before Chase turned and grabbed my arm, helping me stand. Had he held on a moment too long, or did he simply feel guilty and overprotective because of the volleyball incident?

He hooked the helmet around his handlebars, and we started to saunter along the sidewalk.

“Where are we headed?” I asked. The town looked busy, but not as busy as the first day I’d driven through. Maybe midday was slower here, like in many Latin American countries. “And why is my presence necessary for this incredibly important errand in town?”

“I keep my promises” was all he’d say.

We walked for a full five minutes, taking in all the details of one of the most charming island towns I’d ever set foot in, before either of us spoke.

“I think if there was an opposite of New York, this would be it,” I said.

Chase turned to examine me. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“A very good thing. I like the energy of New York, don’t get me wrong. But there are people crammed on top of each other, covering nearly every inch. Here, even surrounded by people, it feels like…solitude. Contentment. In New York, everyone’s climbing and reaching and trying to be more or better. Here, none of that matters. You justare.”

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