Rebecca turned back to me with a brilliant smile but then frowned upon seeing that my thoughts had invaded my expression. “Hey, are you okay?” She took my hand and dragged me toward a leather banquette.
“Yeah,” I lied while rubbing a soothing hand down her arm. “It’s great to see you. You look so happy, Becks.”
“I am.” Her gaze zoomed in on my face. “But you’re not. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“Why does something have to be wrong?”
My response did little to ease her worry. And just like Sam having been reminded when I first saw him, she raised her brows and asked, “Where’s Ree? In your cabin?”
“She didn’t come.” For the second time, with probably ten more times to come, I explained what happened while watching my sister’s empathy.
“Don’t get mad… but I’m not surprised.”
“What?” Narrowing my gaze, I asked, “Why?”
“She’s a great person, and I think you guys fit well. But when I first met her, I didn’t see the same spark in your eyes that I saw in hers.”
“That in itself is the problem. I care about her but—”
“You’re not in love with her,” she cut me off. “I get it. It’s hard to understand what’s missing until you actually find that mind-blowing connection. And you’ll find it, Coop.”
Glancing out at the horizon, I sighed exhaustedly. “I don’t know, Becks. Maybe I’m looking too hard… or maybe my expectations aren’t realistic. The only thing I can reference finding love with are the exceptional tales I teach. Dumped on Valentine’s Day. Can it get any more pitiful than that?” I gripped the back of my neck and sighed. “I do know that I’m sick of hearing myself singing this same old song over and over.”
Rebecca leaned into me to nudge my shoulder. “Then let’s get you a new song.” Her eyes widened in that way that meant a bad idea was coming. “Permission granted to set you up? I can probably think of someone you’d be perfect—”
“No.” I now stopped her midsentence with a raised palm. And for good measure added, “No, no, no.”
“Oh, come on, Coop. Don’t you trust me?”
“Nope.”
The next nudge came from a rigid fist to my chest. “Now that’s not nice.”
“Becks, all kidding aside, I need to take a break from romance. My brain hurts.” As did my heart. Not from being broken, or losing love, but from never having felt it. I wasn’t kidding when I’d said to Sam being a man-whore sounded appealing.
I’ve never been intimate without wondering if she was the one. When I slept with a woman, it was always based on a cause and effect. She caught my eye or intrigued me, and the sexual relations that followed were my way of exploring the lure I felt.
Not going in with an agenda of finding my soul mate held some appeal.
Maybe I should start paying an escort?
Maybe Mr. Romance needed a new game plan.
I decided to eat an early dinner out on deck. To my left, the hot sun began to set over the Fort Lauderdale skyline. On my right, the ocean, calmer than earlier, had barely a ripple in the deep azure expanse. And during the meal, the waitstaff went above and beyond by catering to my every whim.
A few beers, a delicious filet mignon dinner, and the tranquil atmosphere all conspired to narcotize me enough that exhaustion set in.
An hour later, I decided to get to bed with hopes to sleep through until morning. It’d been something I hadn’t done in so long. On average, I was lucky to get four to five straight hours on any given night. And after I stripped down to my boxers, my plan seemed to be on point the moment my body slid in between those heavenly sheets.
That was until what felt like hours later, when I sat up and gasped.
Despite the cool temperature, a thin sheen of sweat coated my body. Searching my thoughts, I tried to remember what I had dreamed about. The way my heart pounded meant it had to have been a nightmare, but I couldn’t remember a damn thing that had freaked me out.
Once the disoriented fog lifted, I grabbed for my phone to see it was only midnight.
“Goddamn it.”
I’d been convinced it was morning and gave the pillow a hard punch before settling back down, hoping to fall right back to sleep. But when tossing and turning ensued for two hours, I finally gave up.
I could always start on grading the papers waiting for me in my bag but being in that cabin wide awake made me claustrophobic. So I threw on shorts and a T-shirt, grabbed my e-reader and a bottle of water from the minibar, and headed out on deck.
All was quiet, no doubt everyone on board lucky enough to be sleeping soundly. Tulle garland had been added here and there in preparation for tomorrow and, along with the decorative deck lights, helped to create an ethereal atmosphere.
For a few minutes, I stared at the almost full moon’s reflection in the inky waters. It was a cloudless night with a light breeze taking the edge off the muggy air. I may not have been able to sleep, but the quietude created a serene bubble that served as the next best thing.
No sooner had I opened my e-reader than I heard something behind me. “Hello?” I called out to the shadow leaning against a darkened corner. Whoever it was said nothing as he stepped forward, revealing himself.
So much for my fucking serenity.
“What are you doing up?”
“I’m always up,” Ricky said, sitting beside me without invite. “What’s your excuse?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I responded while staring straight ahead. Feeling his gaze drilling into the side of my face, I met it and asked, “What?”
“Just wondering if you’re still upset with me for what I said earlier.” His eyes briefly shifted down to my lips. “And if that’s why you’re out here in the middle of the night.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. My poor sleep habits have nothing to do with you.”
The corners of his mouth lifted into a smirk. “So then you haven’t thought about what I said?”
“There’s nothing to think about,” I barked. “You’re coming on to me, and I’m not interested.”
His laugh was instant. “Coming on to you? What makes you think you’re my type?”
It was my turn to smirk. “The snide comments, the way you’re trying to push my buttons, or even the fact you feel the right to say whatever is on your mind… for starters.” I would’ve loved to have added the way he constantly stared at me… no, no… leered at me… like he could imagine what my body would feel like beneath his hands, or taste beneath his lips.
Admitting to any of that would supply fuel to his fire, and I wasn’t interested in stoking those flames.
“None of which means that I’m coming on to you,” he replied as if it were obvious. “Sure, you’re hot…” He waved a hand between us. “In a bohemian kind of way.”
“Bohemian?” I looked down at my simple gym shorts and basic T-shirt before assessing his attire, which could only be compared to an Ivy League welcome pamphlet.
Our wardrobe choices weren’t the only things that were worlds apart. Except for our matching height and athletic physiques, we couldn’t be more different. Straight blond hair and blue eyes gave him that carefree California look people paid hard cash for. To Ricky, it came naturally. He also had a good five years on me. And I hadn’t even touched on how obviously our personalities clashed.