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"Get stuff for the bachelorette party. Andy told me." Matt nodded.
"Right, so unless you plan on spending the afternoon picking out plastic penises—"
"I've done worse." Matt shrugged. "Besides, I'm the best man. I've got some bachelor party shopping to do, too. Looks like we can kill two birds with one stone. Three if you want to start working on making me America's darling, or whatever your plan is."
"My plan is not to make you an American sweetheart. Even PR people understand the limitations of what is and isn't possible."
Matt grinned again. "You don't think America would be charmed by our trip to the dirty party store? Or my witty repartee?"
"I can't speak for America, but I know I like you best when you're seen and not heard."
"Ah, so you do like to see me," he coaxed.
Shay sighed and then turned the radio back to Jewel and started the engine.
"I knew you'd see things my way," he shot back.
"I just don't have the energy. Or the patience. Or the—"
She stopped speaking in order to swat his hand away from the radio, but Bret Michaels was already crooning about basements and talking dirty again.
"Do you mean to tell me this is better than Jewel?" Shay crooked an eyebrow.
"Wouldn't you rather listen to music about sneaking around when you were a teenager and getting lucky as opposed to breaking up with someone who was supposed to love you?"
Objectively, Shay guessed it was a profound kind of question, but Matt asked it the same way he asked everything else—like it and the answer to it didn't matter to him in the slightest. Like it was an afterthought.
Still, Shay considered for a minute. "I don't know. I don't have a lot of experience with either."
"A woman who looks like you?" It wasn't a come-on. He seemed genuinely shocked.
A warm rush settled over her skin, but she pushed it away as she turned onto the main highway toward Honolulu. "I'm not saying I've never had a boyfriend. I'm just saying—"
"You never snuck around and got lucky?"
"I wasn't really the sneaking around kind. Or, really, I never had to sneak around." She shrugged. "My mom was the one who did the sneaking."
Suddenly, she stopped. This was a dangerous area. Mothers. She had to change the subject before—
"And let me guess—nobody ever broke up with you either? You were always the heartbreaker."
"I was always the one who knew when to call things quits. Not heartbreak, per se. Besides, I can't say that I remember you ever being too torn up over anyone."
"Hey, I've had my moments," Matt shot back. "When that foreign exchange student went back to Russia, I was devastated."
"That foreign exchange student? Don't you remember her name?"
"I think it was Olga or Ina or... It was something like that. She didn't have the best command of English." Matt shook his head. "She knew how to get a message across, though. I can tell you—"
"I'm sure your point has been made. In fact..." Shay turned the dial on the radio until a twanging low melody burst through the speakers.
"Ugh, Sarah McLaughlin?" He moaned.
She rolled her eyes and hummed along with the tune. Luckily, she was saved from another bout of defending herself when the party store came into view on their right, and she swerved into the parking lot.
When they'd parked, Matt ambled from the car and grabbed a cart and then led her through the automatic doors.
The place was cold, and she ran her hands over her uncovered biceps. Why any place in Hawaii would be air-conditioned, she had no idea. Every day was a perfect eighty degrees as far as she could tell. Matt eyed her for a moment, glanced down at his windbreaker, and then said, "You want to borrow my jacket?"
