“All right. Tagging you out, cuz. Thanks for sparing me some extra sleep.” I moved behind the counter and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She looked up at me with a squint.
Her eyes narrowed ever farther. “What’s different about you?”
She made a big deal out of looking between James and me before snapping her fingers and smirking. But before she could say something to totally embarrass me, I helped her up and ushered her out the door and into the sunshine.
“Go enjoy your day. Maybe give the little guy in there some vitamin D,” I said, pointing to her belly and imagining her lounging on the beach with her book.
“Spoken like a man who got his own D just now, am I right?” She snickered.
I groaned and dropped my chin to my chest. “I walked right into that one.”
“Yep. Later, gator.” She waved her fingers over her shoulder and headed to the bicycle she was now relegated to since her asshole baby daddy had stolen her truck.
“You wanna borrow my car?” I called after her.
“Nah. This is the only exercise I get anymore. Besides, it’s only a mile. Call me if you need me. Oh! By the way, those flowers need to go to the Rivens’ room when you get a chance. You know the drill.”
I started to turn back inside when James stepped through the doors, cell phone pressed to his ear. His expression had completely shifted from carefree, just been laid, to serious lawyer mode. His jaw was more rigid, his lips tighter, and the lines around his eyes more pronounced. He spoke in a clipped, authoritative voice as he strode right past me, barely pausing to shoot me a wave before sliding into his rental and driving off. I stood there, watching, marveling how quickly he’d morphed back into the old James. Corporate James.
Stranger James.
I didn’t like it.
Letting my mind follow that train of thought would get me nowhere, so instead of ruminating, I headed inside, ready to distract myself by delivering Mr. Rivens’ anniversary flowers before diving back into the Sea Sprite renovation plans. After all, I still had an inn to save.
When James returned with a late lunch, he still seemed a little distracted, the frown lines between his eyes ever present. I tried several times to draw him into conversation while we ate our sandwiches, but every time I could tell that his mind was elsewhere, focused on whatever was occupying his thoughts.
Finally I resorted to just asking him, “Everything okay?”
He glanced up at me, surprised. “Yeah, why?”
I suddenly felt self-conscious for having asked. “I don’t know, you just seem…” I waved a hand in the air. I wanted to say different, but really I’d only known the man for a couple of days. Who was I to say what was normal behavior for him and what was different.
He grinned a little sheepishly. “Sorry, work stuff. It’s always hard to keep up whenever I’m out of the office. I’ve got a lot on my plate to get back to.”
Of course, that made sense. I was sure the Sea Sprite deal wasn’t the only project on his desk. It was a reminder that James lived a different life, in a different city, in what may as well have been a different world. His closet was probably filled with designer clothes while mine came off the sale rack at Walmart. His social life involved galas and black-tie affairs while mine included bowling night and slinging drinks at the pub. His friends were well educated and wealthy, while few of mine had even gone to college and most lived paycheck to paycheck.
This—him being here, him being with me—it was just temporary. Once this deal was closed, he’d move on to the next, and the next, and the next. I was a pit stop. A dalliance. A fun distraction.
Soon he’d be moving on, getting back to his fancy office and teeming desk, and I’d be left behind. Probably barely even registering as a blip on his radar.
And wasn’t that what I’d wanted? Wasn’t this just supposed to be sex for me as well?
Suddenly I had a thought of him next week or next month in another city, sitting in another hotel lobby with another man, and I felt a sting in my chest. “Do you travel often for work?” I tried to make the question sound nonchalant while I gathered up our lunch trash and wiped the table free of crumbs.
He shrugged. “Sometimes. Once or twice a month maybe? Depends on the requirements of the deal. Some are easy.” He hesitated, then met my eyes. “Some are more complicated.”
So that’s what this was—what I was: a complication. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“And do you like traveling that much?” I asked.
He thought about it a moment. “I like seeing new places, exploring new towns. When I get the chance, that is. Sometimes it’s just straight from hotel to boardroom and back again and I don’t have much free time to look around. It can be frustrating sometimes, though. Over the past year my client has been pretty aggressive about expanding his real estate holdings which has meant more frequent travel, and that was….” He hesitated as though searching for the right word. “A little challenging for my relationship. Honestly, I think it probably contributed to my breakup.”
I had to admit I was curious about his ex and why he’d ever let James go. As far as I could tell, James was a catch: smart, successful, hot as fuck, and amazing in bed. More than that, he was generous and caring and funny and endearing. I knew I shouldn’t pry, but I couldn’t stop myself. “He didn’t like you being gone as much?”
James barked out a laugh. “To the contrary, I think he might have liked it too much.”
My confusion must have been evident because he went on to explain. “Richard liked going out. He was the life of any party—had a huge social life. Clubs until all hours, concerts with backstage passes, you name it and he was there.”
So pretty much the opposite of me, I thought. The last time I’d been to a club had been over a year ago for my friend Leroy’s bachelor party in Boston, and even then we hadn’t even stayed out late enough to shut the place down. No one would ever accuse me of being the life of the party. I’d never minded that before, but suddenly I had a moment of wishing I were different. Of wishing I were more like Richard, more the kind of guy that James could fall for.
Which was absurd seeing as how this wasn’t that kind of relationship. This wasn’t a relationship at all, just sex.
“I’m not sure I would have pegged you as the partying until all hours kind of guy,” I admitted.
James lifted a shoulder. “I wasn’t really before. I think that’s what I liked about Richard—he was so different and energetic and fun. He pulled me out of my comfort zone, forced me to try new things. He got me out of my rut of working late and going home and ordering takeout before maybe watching an episode of Parks and Rec or two and falling into bed. In many ways it was great, but in some ways…” He paused, considering his words. “The thing is, I had a job that demanded a lot of hours. I couldn’t go out every night like he could, and he got bored staying in. That’s why he liked it when I traveled—he didn’t have to feel guilty about staying out until all hours.”
I frowned. “Did he not work?”
James let out a laugh. “If you asked him, he did. But Richard is…” He waved a hand in the air. “He doesn’t really know what he wants to do or who he wants to be. Every month it’s something new, and he’ll throw himself into a new passion project and then get bored and move on to something else.” He lifted a shoulder. “He’s young, let’s just put it at that.”