Page 34 of One Week in Paradise
Unlike me, he’s a surprisingly good dancer. His hips move with a fluidity I never would have expected from him, and my thoughts immediately turn sensual.
A few strands of his hair fall loose from the messy bun he’s pulled it into this evening. I lean into the urge I’vebeen having since that meeting at the café. I reach up and ghost my fingers through his hair.
He inhales sharply but doesn’t jerk away.
‘It’s so soft,’ I marvel as I twist a strand around my finger. ‘And so healthy. I’m impressed.’
Cash grins at me. ‘Well, it should be. I’m just doing what you told me to.’
‘Me?’ I frown, trying to scour my memories for any hair recommendations I’ve ever given him. I come up blank.
‘Not directly,’ he admits. ‘You posted something on Instagram a while back about this product you said would be good for people with my hair type.’ He shrugs casually. ‘I gave it a go, and it worked.’
A feeling of warmth cascades through my body, and for a moment, I’m speechless.
‘You followed one of my recommendations?’ I manage to choke out.
‘Of course,’ Cash says with another shrug likeI’mthe weird one for being surprised. ‘You know what you’re talking about, obviously. Why wouldn’t I give it a try?’
Because, aside from Amber, nobody else in my life listens to me like that. Dad thinks my choice of career is a joke. Mum follows me on Instagram, but only out of sympathy and she’s never bought any of the products I’ve recommended.
And Dane? Dane doesn’t really ask any questions outsideof messaging me to ask if I have any discount codes on brands he likes.
‘Thank you,’ I mumble. I’m struck by just how much I mean it. ‘You know, I didn’t even realise that you follow me until a few days ago.’
‘I’ve been following you for a while.’
‘You should’ve said something.’
‘Maybe I just like cheering you on from a distance.’
I shake my head and snort. ‘I don’t understand you, Cash.’
Claudia shouts out some more instructions, and he dips me slightly, his eyes on the long stretch of skin on my neck as he moves.
‘What’s not to understand?’
‘One minute you hate me, the next—’
His eyes turn serious. ‘Stop saying that. Why do you think I hate you?’
‘Because you do,’ I insist. ‘I’m not stupid. I can tell.’
He laughs, but there’s no humour in it. ‘I don’t hate you, Bailey. I can promise you that.’
‘I don’t hate you either.’
‘That’s good to know.’
The song blasting through the speakers changes suddenly to something more up-tempo, and Cash spins me around.
‘I didn’t peg you as a dancer,’ I say. ‘Is this what you and Dane get up to in the club?’
‘Dane has two left feet,’ Cash chuckles. ‘He’s a hazard on the dance floor. It must run in the family.’ He gives me a pointed look, and I deliberately glance away.
‘My mum taught me how to dance,’ he continues. ‘She feels very strongly that every man should be able to hold his own on the dance floor.’
The rhythm speeds up as the song hits the bridge, and Cash easily matches our stride with the tempo.
