“Intriguing. What’ll look good on me?”
She studies me, tapping her chin, then says, “Ask me after a drink and I’ll have a better answer.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” I reply, but I’m not interested in clothes. I am interested in that drink, however. “By the way, I’m not really a rules guy. I just like strategy and preparation.”
“Exactly. And you have rules you go by for those things, right?” she teases.
“I’d call them more like procedures . . .”
She laughs.
“Protocols, maybe?” I ask, trying it on for size.
“Okay, Mr. Thesaurus,” she says.
“Fine. If I am a rules guy—is that a bad thing?”
She shrugs. “No, but I think you like to do things by the book. I bet you always follow a recipe. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Well, obviously. Because that’s what a recipe is for—steps to make the food turn out and the cake rise.” I glance her way. “You don’t follow recipes?”
“I do not.”
“How do you cook?”
“I don’t.”
I wrap my head around that, then point out, “Then, you’re not not following a recipe.”
“Oooooh,” she says, like I did something naughty. “You just broke the double negative grammar rule. Maybe you’re not such a rules guy after all.”
We’ve reached her hotel. The drive went by too fast.
I stop the shuttle to drop her off, set the brake, and turn in my seat to face the intriguing former snorkel hater. “On that note, I will see you at eight a.m. sharp.”
She does another of those sassy salutes. “Aye, aye, skipper. O-eight-hundred hours. On the dot.”
But she doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
I want to linger in this moment where it’s just her and me and all this potential stretching out between us.
“Well, thanks for the ride,” she says at last. “I mean, I know you had to give me a ride. It’s sort of part of the package. But thank you. I appreciate it.”
“It is part of the package, but you’re welcome. I also enjoyed it.” I’m damn glad she isn’t staying at the same hotel as the others. “It’s fun talking to you, even if you like to give me a hard time.”
“But you can take it.”
“I can indeed.” Another pause, and then I make myself say, “Good night.”
“Good night, Caleb.” She slips out of the bus, and I watch until she’s through the doors into the hotel.
Then I drop my forehead to the steering wheel with a thunk.
Why? Why, oh why, does she have to be pretty, witty, and totally endearing?
I thunk my head again, hoping to knock some sense into myself.
I know better than to enjoy her company this much—in this way.
It’s one simple rule, man. Just follow it.
7
Skyler
Thanks, universe.
For testing me like this.
For dropping a hottie tour guide IN MY PATH.
I flop down on my bed, groaning in . . . frustration.
But is it true annoyance? It’s more like frustration meets lust. What’s that called?
I grab my phone, click on my texts with Katie, tap out a note.
Skyler: Is frust a thing? Lustation?
* * *
Katie: Ah, so you are hot for the tour guide and it’s driving you crazy!
* * *
Skyler: It’s like you speak my language.
* * *
Katie: Yes, language of the weird and wonderful. Also, since you’re texting me, you’ve clearly not been eaten by sharks or fish. Yay!
* * *
Skyler: It’s a vacation miracle.
* * *
Katie: And how did it go? You’re not dead, but were you hooking up with your movie star tour guide? If so, I expect a FULL report.
* * *
Skyler: I won’t be hooking up with anything but a zip line. But I had so much fun today. Everything was amazing. The snorkeling, the reef, the fish . . .
* * *
Katie: And the sexy skipper? Sidenote: Skipper sounds silly.
I laugh, then read her question again. Yes, Caleb is easy on the eyes, but he’s also easy to talk to. And that counts for something.
Skyler: Yes, it does. Actually, I really enjoyed his company. Maybe my vow of singlebacy takes the pressure off so I can just enjoy talking to him. He’s interesting and fun.
* * *
Katie: Or, crazy idea, maybe you like the guy.
She’s not wrong. I kinda do . . .
Skyler: There’s a lot to like. But I’m also exhausted, and Caleb is picking me up at eight sharp. Tomorrow is zip-line day. I’m excited and terrified.
* * *
Katie: You’re going to have fun. And I’m really proud of you for doing something that scares you, sweetie.
* * *
Skyler: Thank you. I’m proud of me too.
* * *
Katie: And have fun when Caleb picks you up
* * *
Skyler: The SHUTTLE BUS is picking me up.
* * *
Katie: Whatever you say, sweetie.
* * *
Skyler: I say GOOD NIGHT, Katie.
I wait for the shuttle bus under the portico in front of the Hilton. The butterflies in my stomach are for the zip line, not Caleb. I am not dating, this is not a date, and so these can’t be date butterflies.