Page 64 of Blame It on the Bikini
"Not even a little bit," she said with a laugh.
"Good." He pulled her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Why don't I get dressed and check out what's for breakfast?"
"You don't have to wait on me," she protested.
"I want to. Besides, I'm fairly sure if I let you get dressed and start moving around, you'll remember you're a responsible adult with things to do."
"I think you're more likely to remember to be responsible than me," she said with a smile.
"Good point," he said, sitting up and reaching for his jeans. "But not today. I'm planning on a few more hours of irresponsible, if that's okay with you."
"More than okay." She watched him get dressed, admiring the play of morning light across his shoulders, the unselfconscious way he moved. When he leaned down to kiss her goodbye, she caught his face in her hands. "Grayson?"
"Yeah?"
"Last night was..." She struggled for words that wouldn't sound too heavy, too loaded with expectation.
"I know," he said softly. "For me too."
After he left, she wrapped herself in the inn's plush robe and stepped out onto the small porch. The desert morning was crisp and clear, the Joshua trees casting long shadows across the rocky landscape. This was exactly the kind of moment she'd usually be eager to capture, but she didn't want to be an observer today. She wanted to participate. She wanted to feel everything.
Ten minutes later, Grayson returned with a tray loaded with coffee, fresh blueberry muffins, and breakfast burritos.
They ate sitting cross-legged on the bed, sharing more stories about their lives. She told him about going to college at UCLA, law school at Georgetown, and then living with two wild party girls her first year working at her father's law firm. While they were hitting up the clubs, she was working until midnight as a first-year associate.
Grayson shared his experiences at Harvard and how his freshman-year roommate almost got them both suspended for selling weed out of their room. He hadn't known anything about it but had no way to prove that. Fortunately, his roommate had come clean and admitted that Grayson knew nothing about his side hustle. The amount he was selling was very small, but because he was also failing his classes, his parents yanked him out of school until he could grow up and be worthy of their tuition money. "So, I ended up with my own room for the rest of the year," he finished.
"That turned out good for you."
"It did."
"One of my roommates met a guy who considered himself a health and wellness guru. He convinced her that material things were bad and that she should sell everything she had, and they could use the money to travel and see the world. She sold it all, and I should mention that her belongings had all been bought and paid for by her parents. They showed up a few days after she left. I thought she'd told them what she was doing, but she hadn't said a word. Suddenly, I had one less roommate sharing the rent and her hysterically crying mother asking me why I hadn't stopped her from leaving."
"I guess we both struck out in the roommate department."
"I have liked living alone the past two years."
"Are you really alone? You always seem to be surrounded by friends."
"Which is what's so great about Ocean Shores. My friends are there, but I still have my own space."
"The perfect solution," he said a little tightly.
She wiped her mouth with a napkin. "I brought up the forbidden subject, sorry."
"We can talk about whatever you want to talk about."
"Well, I don't want to talk about that. Not now. Not while we're having fun. I'm well aware there's an expiration date not too far in the future, but it's not today."
"No, it's not," he agreed.
She was about to say something when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out and read a text, his expression stiffening. "Work?" she asked.
"Yes. My Singapore deal is running into one obstacle after another."
"We can leave now if you want."
He hesitated, and she could see the battle going on in his eyes.
