Page 52 of The Amazing Date

“Done. You know I’m your soft-landing spot. Always. Now that I’m sketching again, there is no way I’ll continue to paint portraits by numbers.” I scoff away the comment, knowing my sister’s second ask won’t be as simple. “And number two?”

“Are you sitting?” Her laugh fills the earpiece, and I know I won’t find what she’s about to say funny. “I need you to tell Rylee how you feel.”

I bite my tongue, unsure of how to respond. “I’m not sure what I’m feeling.”

“So, start there. You guys owe it to one another. She may surprise you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. How does one even begin a conversation like that?”

I hear the tapping again and brace. “Tell Rylee I send hugs, kisses, and love to her, and take it from there.”

“That’s a dangerous place to start a conversation, mi hermosa.”

“So is racing around the country for four days holding back feelings you’ve bottled up for years. Time to shake things up, Roy. I have faith the chips will fall in your favor.”

She’s always seen me in a better light than I see myself. She’s a true angel. It’s getting late, and I need to get back to the hotel before I lose my courage. “Keep that leg elevated, and I’ll see you in a couple of days. Love you.”

“Y tú, mi hermano”

I disconnect the line, empty every coin from my pocket, and leave the diner. The crappy Motel 6 is less than a mile away. Not enough time for me to gather all my thoughts, not enough time for me to talk myself out of following Gabby’s instructions. I have no choice but to face head-on what we have been dancing around for four long years. It’s time.

Chapter 31

Rylee

I feel the silent buzz of my phone rattling on the cracked, fake-wood, lopsided side table next to my nonstandard size Motel 6 bed and realize seeing this horrible room in the early morning sun is no longer my worst fear.

Roberto is sitting on his bed, on top of the covers, legs crossed yoga-style, sketchbook in hand and drawing. It’s not that he’s drawing that sends chills down my spine but what he is drawing that does. Me.

“Dude! Are you sketching me while I was sleeping?” I swing my feet to the sticky floor and immediately regret it. I hop back onto the bed, my eyes searching for my sneakers to protect me from whatever the hell may have been spilled into the parchment paper-thin threads they generously call a carpet.

“I couldn’t resist. It’s the quietest you’ve been since this competition began.” We’re back to smart-aleck Roberto, the sexy, smirky, confident man I haven’t seen since day one of the competition. He’s such a freaking enigma, so many versions of him that challenge me and keep me on my toes.

I hadn’t expected this version of him, especially not after essentially banishing him to redemption island last night. I thought he’d return all apologetic with his tail between his legs.

“And you don’t find this weird? Me sleeping? That has to be some violation of model/artist protocol or something.”

A sexy smirk fills his face, and his fingers move with a fluidity I haven’t seen in years. I want to ask him about his hand but am smart enough not to broach the subject. “Not a thing. Besides, you gave me permission back in Puerto Rico.”

With the mention of PR, my mind fills with images of being in his arms, lips pressed together, and a world of possibilities in front of us. “I hadn’t realized those permissions lasted longer than the week we spent together.”

“A lifetime.” The corners of his lip tick up into a swoony smile that hits me in the chest. His next word is the one, however, that tips me over. “Baby.”

“What the…” I stand on the bed, afraid to place a bare foot on the floor, and hop the two feet that separate our beds. I don’t know why I expected a soft, cushioned mattress to catch me like a trampoline. Instead, my foot all but goes through the three-inch piece of cardboard disguised as a mattress. I lose my balance, plopping hard onto the bed, rocking into Roberto to prevent from falling to the sticky floor. “Hell?” I screech, swaying to gain balance. I cross my legs and turn to address the amused smirk on his face. “What’s gotten into you?”

Our bare thighs touch, and he hides the sketch from me, tossing the pad facedown onto his nightstand. “You were sleeping when I got in, but Gabby said to give you this.” I turn to face him, not sure what to expect. His arms wrap me into a warm hug. My initial shock and resistance fade the longer he holds me. The scent of coffee and sugar fills my nostrils as I lower my face to his shoulder. He leans back, capturing my gaze, and my breath hitches.

He’s looking at me as if yesterday never happened. He’s looking at me the way he did the early days on the island, as if we might have a future. “What’s going on, Roberto?” My whisper-thin words don’t stand a chance against the touch of his fingertips across my jawline.

“Her exact words were to give Rylee hugs and kisses.” His gaze lowers to my lips, and I realize I no longer have a say in what is about to happen. When his hands are where they are now, and he is staring at me the way he is, I’m his; he just doesn’t know it yet. I’m nothing more than a blank canvas awaiting his stroke.

His lips press gently across my cheek. A tender kiss filled with warmth and memories. “She said lots and lots of…” His words warm my heart as his lips complete the sentence. Two, three, four. I lose track of the soft kisses as he lifts my chin and his tongue traces down my collarbone. My hands fist the bottom of his T-shirt, seeking an anchor. When his lips finally land on my mine, I open them, allowing him access I thought I would never provide to him ever again.

Never say never.

We are as unpredictable as the weather in the Pacific Northwest. Dark and gloomy one moment, bright and sunny the next. We are slammed doors and porch swing kisses. We are under-the-table footsies and ice-cold stares from the other side of the room.

I lose my breath, my sense of being, and my memory of why I push so hard to keep this man away from me. “Your sister has never kissed me like this,” I tease, enjoying the moment more than I should.

---