AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Although … I grin at the idea of Ben finding a pelican inside his pristine yacht. Then again—he might surprise me and find it amusing. It’s not like he doesn’t have the money to pay for any damages.
Is it bad that thinking of Ben immediately reminds me of how it felt to wake up with him curled around my back, his hand on my hip?
Yes—it is very,verybad.
We are not going to fall for the playboy billionaire, I tell myself, knowing just HOW bad off I must be if I’m talking to myself with the royal we.We are going to remember how he dates and dumps models—okay, the dumping part I just assumed from the articles, but it’s probably true—and that we learned the hard way that we don’t like rich, preppy men.
Think of Justin, I tell myself, a last-ditch effort to compare Ben to my awful ex.
The problem is, the more I get to know Ben, the less like Justin he seems. Every hour I’m here, I’m learning more and more about Ben that contradicts my original assumptions.
Turns out, I very much like a man spending a day tending to me while I’m out of commission with a migraine. Not to mention the way he treats—and pays—his staff. He also washes dishes. And lets his employees give him a hard time.
Justin couldn’t walk across a room without seeming pretentious, and Ben seems to go out of his way to make sure that he doesn’t talk down to anyone. He treats everyone as his equal, from Harriett the deli-owner to Danny the deckhand to German the SUCS agent.
Ha.I’ll never not laugh over the unfortunate acronym of the government agency that so frequently hires me. I wonder if Ben has heard the acronym. I have a feeling he’d definitely joke about it. One more thing to add to the list of Ben’s impressive qualities. His wit and sense of humor.
I think about his hands, gently massaging my head, the way he readied the shower for me, the concern in his eyes as he left me standing on shaking legs. Then there’s his protectiveness. I mean,yes.Technically, it led to himkidnapping me andlying about our relationship status. But hearing him explain his reasoning, how he just couldn’t imagine me hiding out in a hotel somewhere with German and Daniels hovering nearby—I can’t be anything but grateful he had the forethought to make a different suggestion. That he cared about my comfort and wellbeing enough to intervene.
Still. Even with that very long list of qualifications, I can’t trust myself in a relationship with Ben. I can’t trust that once the shiny newfeelingswear off, I won’t grow frustrated with all the same things that drove me crazy when I was dating Justin. Not to mention the fact that I don’t live in Oakley. I’ve always been a city girl at heart, which means my presence here is temporary. As soon as all this madness is cleared up, I’ll go back to Atlanta and Ben will stay on his island, and I won’t have to worry about the possibility offeelingsever again.
Which means the first order of business today: clear up our relationship status. With Ben and everyone else. We are not and never will be dating.
I repeat this to myself a few times just to make sure my brain gets the memo.
Sighing, I reach for my phone, only to pat my empty back pocket and remember I no longer have one. I let out an audible grumble. This is getting old fast. It’s also revealing how addicted I am to my device, but that’s not the point. The point is that feeling strandedandisolated is a really terrible feeling.
My second order of business today is to give German a piece of my mind. I hope the government is ready to fork over the cash to replace my very expensive iPhone. And then some. Maybe I can guilt—or, no,threaten—them into getting me an upgrade. A new iPad too. Hell, a whole new system. Paid for by Uncle Sam by way of German.
After brushing my teeth, I throw open my stateroom door. Ben’s door, directly across the hall, opens immediately after.
“Oh, hello,” he says, with far too much casual innocence in his voice and a flirty gleam in his eye.
He’s wearing dark swim trunks with a faded white t-shirt that somehow looks ultra-casual and ultra-expensive at the same time. It also lookswaytoo good on him. He’s barefoot, which should make him look young or immature, like a frat boy spotted in the wild, but instead, to my clearly broken brain, it’s somehow endearing.
He has nice feet, I find myself thinking.
I need to drag myself into the corner and repeat my earlier line a hundred times:We will not fall for the playboy billionaire.
“Were you listening for me to come out?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Of course not,” he says. “I just happen to have impeccable timing.”
I don’t believe this for a second, but also, I’m not in the mood to argue. Not with anyone but German, who should have had the decency to tell me before feeding my phone to the sharks.
Ben leans against the door jamb, folding his arms across his chest and making his biceps pop. My eyes linger there, tracing the curve of the muscle, my brain immediately reminding me that I know what it feels like to have that arm wrapped around my waist.
Maybe I’ll clarify my fake relationship status …afterI talk to German. It can be mysecondorder of business.
“Where are you headed?” Ben asks. “Breakfast? Coffee?”
“To locate German,” I say grimly. “So we can discuss matters such as my phone’s burial at sea.”
“Ah,” Ben says, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “How about coffee first? Might help things go a little more smoothly.”
“Maybe I don’t want things to go smoothly,” I say. “Maybe I want to unleash all of my pre-caffeinated wrath on German.”
“I won’t stop you,” he says. “I’d rather like to watch. But after coffee.”
