Our laughter subsides into something softer, more intimate. Hayes reaches out to brush sand from my shoulder, his touch lingering.
“That wasn’t exactly how I planned our first kiss to go,” he says.
“You planned it?” I smile.
“Let’s just say I’ve been thinking about it since I talked to you at the rehearsal dinner.”
The confession sends warmth spreading through my chest all over again. “Me too.”
He takes my hand; his thumb tracing circles on my palm. “My room has a private balcony. And a door that locks. And no curious children with flashlights.”
I bite my lip, considering. Every logical part of my brain is screaming that this is a bad idea—I’m not good with one-night stands, and if it worked out, I can’t handle long distance relationships either. But I hear Skye’s encouraging voice in my head, and the part of me that hasn’t felt this alive in months, maybe years, wants nothing more than to follow him back to that room.
“Yes,” I say simply.
His smile is eager as he helps me put back on my bikini top. I’m retrieving my cover-up when my phone chimes from inside it. I’d almost forgotten I brought it.
I’m about to silence it, but when I check the screen and see Paisley’s name, something tugs at my conscience. “It’s my sister—she’s pregnant, and she never calls this late.” I give him an apologetic look. “Just one second, promise.”
“Take your time.”
I answer with, “What’s up, Paisley?” trying to sound like I haven’t just been caught mostly naked on a beach.
But the sound of her sobbing immediately cuts through my attempted nonchalance.
“Paisley? What’s wrong?”
“I’m in early labor, Bri,” she chokes out between sobs. “The doctors are trying to stop it, but... I’m scared. It’s too early for him.”
My heart plummets. I look at Hayes, who’s watching me with concern, and I know my face must show everything.
“I’m coming home right now,” I say into the phone, already calculating the fastest route back to Atlanta as I disconnect and get the hospital information.
“Brielle—” Hayes begins, but I’m already gathering my things, my mind shifting completely into crisis mode.
“My sister’s in early labor,” I explain quickly. “I have to go.”
“Of course. Let me help you get back to your room. Do you need a ride to the airport?”
Even in my panic, I’m touched by his offer. “No, I’ll figure it out. I’m sorry, Hayes. This was... this would have been...”
“Hey.” He catches my hand. “Go take care of your family. That’s what matters.”
I nod, emotion clogging my throat. As I turn to hurry back to the hotel, I can’t help feeling that once again, reality has reared its ugly head. The story of my life condensed into one perfect, interrupted moment on a beach in paradise.
2
The Welcome Party
HAYES
Eight Months Later…
So this is what it feels like to be America’s most eligible bachelor. I’m sweating bullets on this perfect seventy-five-degree March day in Atlanta as thirty women prepare to compete for something I hope like hell to give away—my heart. Eight months ago, I was just a photographer who happened to pee on a jellyfish victim at the beach. Now, I’m “Hero Hayes,” and because my son talked me into it, this season’s replacement star ofGroomsman to Groom. Life has a twisted sense of humor.
I’m standing outside the show’s ridonkulous mansion dressed in a five-thousand-dollar Dior-sponsored tuxedo. It’s not my usual style—and I definitely miss my T-shirt, jeans, andVans, but I clean up nicely. I mean, wait until my old high school classmates see me.
They’ll be shocked. When I knew them, I was so painfully introverted, I had one friend who was a fellow gamer. My father will be the most shocked of all. That is, if he even sees the show—but I’m not going to think about that.