“Some nausea, vomiting, or an all-consuming need to ravage the first woman I see.” He narrows his gaze on me, causing me to laugh.
“Oh my gosh. Stop.” I shake my head. “So that’s true? Do eating oysters make you horny?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Honestly, for me… It’s always been the nausea thing. Some of the guys and I ate plates of them last year after a game in Boston. I’m not sure if I just ate too many or if I ate a bad one, but I vomited for an hour. I became well acquainted with my hotel toilet.”
“Ugh.” I shiver. “Gross. On that note, we should eat.”
“You don’t have to worry. I stopped before any nausea or sexual urges formed,” he teases.
“Phew.” I blow out an exaggerated breath. “So glad.”
He flashes one of his panty-melting grins, which would capture the heart of 90 percent of the female population. But sadly, it’s a waste on me. He is squarely locked in the friend zone, the only man to ever make it there, and that’s enough for me. Still, it doesn’t hurt having someone so beautiful to share my time with. Just because we’ll never be romantically connected doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view.
“Okay, but you have to try this—most likely imported—shrimp. The coconut shrimp here is out of this world.” He dips a coconut-crusted shrimp into a bright orange sauce and hands it to me.
I take a bite and groan. Covering my mouth, I manage, “So good,” through a mouthful of crustacean. “Now that’s amazing.”
“Right? I’ve been to this restaurant a few times, and I get them every time. I’ve never had coconut shrimp like this anywhere else.”
The restaurant sits nestled in a valley surrounded by lush tropical foliage and small mountains. A waterfall tumbles down the far hillside into a pristine little lake. The open-air concept allows the tropical breeze to drift through, carrying the scent of salt and flowers. From the ambiance to the picturesque surroundings to the food, everything about this place is five stars.
“I’m glad we came here,” I say.
“Right? I honestly couldn’t do another luau. The pork is good and everything, but there’s such a thing as too much kalua pork and macaroni salad.”
“I think Gunner would disagree.” I smile, picturing how happy the goalie gets with a plate piled high with kalua pork.
“Well, we don’t call him the Beast for nothing. The guy needs to eat a lot, so we’ll give him a pass. But the others? Their decision-making is questionable.”
We’ve been in Hawaii for a week for the team’s annual bye week vacation, and it’s been a blast. For the most part, the team has stayed together, but tonight we split into groups. All the couples are at a farewell luau, while the single guys and their guests are partying at the resort’s main house. Miles convinced me to come here for one of his favorite meals, and once we’re finished, we’ll head back to the house to join the others.
It’s been a nice break from the cold Michigan winter. Truthfully, I’m not looking forward to going back.
“What is it, Sunshine?” Miles asks. “Some of your light just flickered out for a second there.”
Miles knows nothing about my past, yet sometimes I feel like he’s the only one who truly sees me. I’ve become very good at putting a positive foot forward, accompanied by a happy smile.My demeanor—usually one of joy—earned me the Sunshine nickname from Miles.
There’s no sense in lying to him because he would know. “Honestly, I’m kind of sad to leave Hawaii.”
“Yeah, how come?”
“I guess I’m bored with hotel living. It’s a little lonely. I really need to get a place, but I don’t know. I haven’t loved anywhere I’ve looked.”
“Come live with me.” The words flow from his mouth without a moment’s hesitation.
“What?” My eyes widen. “I can’t do that.”
“Sure, you can. I have a big-ass house just for me. Truthfully, you’d be doing me a favor. It may be different from a hotel room, but the loneliness is the same. I’d love to have you. We’d have so much fun together.”
I hold up a hand and shake my head. “No. Absolutely not. That’s your bachelor pad, and I’m not about to block your game with my feminine energy.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Block my game? Not possible.”
“So you’re not perfect,” I say, thinking back to my earlier thoughts.
“What does that mean?” he grins.
“Just that you’re a little cocky there. That’s not a good trait.”
