My Single-versary (Happy Endings 0.50)

So why am I disappointed that the guests from the other hotel are already aboard the bus when it pulls up?

Caleb, however, doesn’t disappoint when he opens the door and stands at the bus steps as I trot over to join him. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone make a Hawaiian shirt look as good as he does with those shoulders. The print could be inspired either by the sea and sand, or by his blue eyes and his golden tan and blond hair. It’s a toss-up.

“Morning,” he says, then glances at the bus as if checking on the passengers. When he looks back at me, he hands over the travel mug he’d been holding at his side. “Here you go.”

“Oh!” I take it gratefully. “I didn’t expect the tour to provide coffee.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins. “We don’t. But I thought you might like it.” Then he leans over to whisper, “Shhh. Don’t tell the others. I didn’t bring enough for the whole class.”

I whisper back, “Thank you. Secret coffee is the best. Just for me.”

And I can’t help but like that he’s thought of this just for me.

The bus takes us up the mountain to the zip-line place, and then it’s a trek up well-kept paths to the launch platform. The view of the ridges and lush tropical forest is breathtaking, and that’s before I think about the trip down.

But there’s one view I’m not nearly close enough to, so as the group climbs the trail, I fall back to walk beside Caleb, who is bringing up the rear.

“Thank you again for the coffee. It was fantastic,” I say.

“You’re welcome.”

“I think coffee is proof we weren’t meant to be morning people.”

“I love mornings.”

“You would.”

He swivels his head to me, a look of mock horror twinkling in those ocean eyes. “What does that mean?”

I grin. “Mornings are for rules guys.”

He comes to a full stop on the trail, and I do too. “And do you dislike rules guys?”

I make him wait a bit on my answer, delivering it with a tease of a smile. “I don’t dislike rules guys who bring me coffee.”

“Tsk. Tsk. That was a double negative.”

“Which means it was a positive. Just like rules can be a positive too.” I gesture from his sexy, broad shoulders down to his tanned, muscular legs—purely to demonstrate a point, of course. “Like, I bet you have a rule about daily exercise.”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve already hit the ocean for my morning swim.”

“See? Rules. You have rules.”

“You call them rules, I call them strategies. Strategies to keep fit, strategies to keep guests safe and happy . . .” He glances at my hands as if I still held the travel mug I’d drained on the drive up here. “I bet you have a rule that you have to have coffee before the day can begin.”

“I’d say that’s more of a survival strategy. Still, a point to you.” I lick my finger and draw a tally mark in the air.

Caleb chuckles. “Very sporty of you, for someone who doesn’t like sports.”

“You’re making it easy for me to like things I didn’t expect to,” I say, soft, almost in a whisper. Goosebumps coast down my arms, and he opens his mouth as if to speak, but one of the other tour members falls back to ask him a question, effectively cutting the moment short.

Which is a good thing. I’m not here for moments. I’m here for discovery and adventure.

It’s quite a hike up to this place, which makes me worry it will be quite a trip down. Still, I’m not nearly as nervous as when I boarded the tour boat yesterday, and the reason is walking beside me.

As the other tourists surge ahead once more, it’s just Caleb and me at the back.

“Did you bring me coffee because I’m the only one who hasn’t gone zip-lining before?” I ask him.

He looks at me in obvious surprise. “Um, no. I thought . . .” Running his fingers through his hair, he tries again. “I just wanted to, and I thought you would like it.”

That little bit of nerves warms me as much as the gesture. “I do like it. Coffee is life.”

“Same. Coffee is on my top five list.”

“Top five . . .?” I prompt.

“Top five best things ever.”

When he doesn’t offer more, I say, affronted, “You can’t just put that out there and then stop. What are the other four?”

Counting on his fingers, he says, “A good book, a beautiful wave, a burger and a beer, and yada yada yada.”

Well, hello. “By yada yada yada, I assume you mean . . .”

“Laundry,” he says, dead serious. “What else could I possibly mean?”

“Ah yes, of course. Laundry. How silly of me to think you meant something on the side.”