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“I do,” I say. “I haven’t…” I trail off as I flounder for an excuse. “I haven’t taken a vacation in a long time.”
Archie’s shrewd gaze bounces back and forth between us and I’m sure he’s becoming aware that we’re something other than a happy couple, or whatever Margery told him.
“Not that being stranded on an island withyoucounts,” I continue. “But I’m going to make the most of it while I can.”
“What about work? Your boss?” Carter asks, seeming genuinely concerned.
“Screw my boss,” I mutter.
“Great,” he says, and turns back to Archie with a smile on his face. “Archie, if your offer still stands, we’re going to take you up on it.”
“Be ready to go down at the docks at seven.”
I grimace, and Archie must catch it because he just says, “You’re lucky I’m not making you leave at four or five, like I normally do. But like I said, I’m staying local tomorrow so no need to be out early.”
I may have just signed my death sentence. Because I know there is no way I’m sleeping tonight—not after that kiss, and not after the way Carter opened up to me earlier.
I remind myself that I’ve done much more difficult things than go bird watching on a few hours of sleep. Everything will be fine.
20
CARTER
Angelaand I go to bed early that night, in preparation for the early wakeup.
I can tell she’s already regretting saying we could go. She just grumbles when I ask her if she wants to watch any more of the movie, and she scowls even as she brushes her teeth.
I’m standing next to her in the bathroom brushing my own and I can’t help but smile as I do. This is what I’ve dreamed about having for the last five years—Angela by my side as I go through the motions of life, the smallest, most mundane activity reinvented as exciting just by her mere presence.
She spits her toothpaste out and rinses her mouth, once, twice, and again, and then rinses off the brush.
“Why are you staring at me?” she growls. She blows a curl out of her face and glares at me, like a tiny, angry lion.
“You’re cute when you brush your teeth,” I say, still grinning.
“Like hell I am,” she says. “You’re letting your excitement about the puffins tomorrow addle your brain, Steel.”
“Sure Angel, whatever you say.”
She raises her brows at me, but doesn’t leave the bathroom. Instead she watches as I finish brushing, as if she’s assessing for herself whether or not someone can be cute when theybrush their teeth. I notice that her gaze travels past my face, downwards, taking in my bare chest, and landing on the place where the gray sweatpants I’ve changed into are hanging at my hips.
“You can keep going,” I say around the toothpaste in my mouth.
“No thanks,” my lioness says, shuffling past me to get to the door.
Even though I move out of the way, as she walks past, her hip knocks into me, and her shoulder brushes my bare chest.
Fuck.
Her skin is soft and warm, and one brush against her is enough to have me sporting a semi. I rinse my mouth out, splash cold water on my face, and take a few deep breaths. I think about the least sexy things possible. Rat tails. Wedgies. Granny panties.
Actually, grandmas don’t deserve my derision, and Angela would look hot as fuck in granny panties. I’ve always liked high waisted garments…
Fuck—I’m toast.
I give up and just hope the sweatpants are loose enough to cover any evidence of my hard on. I find Angela spread out face down on the bed, and I can’t help but laugh at how much annoyance she manages to project even when not moving.
“Don’t laugh at me,” she grumbles.
