“A good man” no longer felt like enough.
Ground-level romantic expectations didn’t do it for me.
I wanted burning red love. A love that would simultaneously set me aflame and hold me tight. Just like in the novels I read.
But Ryan did a marvelous job of convincing me that was not achievable for any man no matter how much he loved a woman, so I planned to meet him at the altar anyway just to be told he wasn’t going to be waiting for me.
“Do you want to eat out here, or inside the—” Noah stops talking as he looms over me, concern etching into his features. He kneels, wiping wetness from my face. “I’ll set up lunch inside. Take as long as you need, Esme.”
With that, his handsome face disappears from view, and a new round of tears—ones of gratitude and disbelief—takes over.
Because so far, it seems like Noah Ashton stepped right out of a romance novel. And I think I might want to have this week with him, even if it ends in burning flames. The feelings he calls to surface within me are bright and new, and I want to see how we fit, even if it’s just for this little slice of summer. Something tells me he might be worth it.
***
“She reads smut and she cooks,” Noah teases, gripping the edge of the island bar in the middle of the kitchen as if he’s trying to stay upright. He groans, tilting his head back as if he can’t wait to taste my food. He stayed after our late lunch. We went for a swim, talking about nothing and everything, went grocery shopping for food this evening, and now, we are enjoying a sunset dinner on the deck of my bungalow. A meal that I cooked out of sheer appreciation for this magnificent specimen of a man.
He only left to shower and change, and while he was absent, fear nestled into my soul, and I kept the door locked and a kitchen knife in my hand until he came back.
I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the night. My “thousand Bora Bora suns” maxim is no longer cutting it the more I dwell upon what almost happened to me out on the beach.
“I don’t read smut,” I state, swatting his hand away as he attempts to steal a mango slice off of my fish taco. I don’t understand how this man makes me feel terribly at ease. It might be scarier than the kidnapping attempt to be honest, but I’m here for it. All the way. One hundred percent, pedal to the metal. I decide to jump into the depths of his eyes.
It’s Bora Bora, after all.
On top of making me feel like I’ve known him for a lifetime instead of half a day, Noah has done the impossible tonight. He’s made a button-down Hawaiian shirt and a pair of mid-thigh khaki shorts runway-ready.As long as he’s the one walking.I chose a pale pink flowy sundress, which matched the pale pink in his shirt.
Noah leans against the kitchen counter. “I know, sweetheart. It was a joke. I’m glad you don’t; I want my future wife to be fully consumed withme.” And as if he didn’t imply what I think he did, he carries on. “What do you read?”
I shrug, gathering my plate and glass of Orange Julius. Noah told me earlier that the drink was a favorite, so I had to blend it up for him. “Classics. British literature because I—” I cut myself off from mentioning that I teach it. I’ve shared things about myself with this man, and we do know each others’ first and last names and ages, but I take pause because I’m not that irresponsible. How much of my personal life should I tell this stranger?
“You what?”
“My profession requires that I know a great deal about British literature.”
“You’re not going to tell me what it is you do, are you?”
I grin, stretching my neck to look into his eyes as he stands at his full height. “Nope. I’m undecided how much of my personal life I should share with a hot, strange man. Ted Bundy was a looker, you know.”
Noah laughs, a rich and delectable sound. “Fair enough. I’ll go at your pace. Though by that accent of yours, I can tell we are from the same region of the United States.” He winks, and I turn my head so he can’t see my smile.
Conversation slips away as we both stare out at the setting sun; the sound of the waves lapping against the deck promises peace and tranquility. I beg and plead that it’s not lying to me.
The flame of the candle between us on the small black table dances in the whispering wind, and I meet Noah’s gaze above it. He smiles, and I blush, looking away once more and admiring the flames of the tiki torches instead.
This is what I wanted. Someone who sets butterflies fluttering in my stomach with one glance. Something Ryan did at one point, but as our relationship progressed, and he blamed the lack of passion on me for wanting the impossible, they died. Words like daggers, until not a single fluttering insect remained.
So why didn’t you leave? The signs were there.I ignore the small voice beckoning me to face the facts. Instead, I think of how Noah could star in a romantic comedy.
Even the thought of Noah’s name has the insects flapping and begging to let loose. When I glance in his direction once more, he’s wearing an incredulous smirk. I raise my eyebrows, and he scoots his chair around the circular table until he is right by my side.
Noah’s so close that I smell his cologne. It’s warm, sweet, and spicy, much like his personality. A warm finger slides along my jaw until he hooks it under my chin, tilting my face to his. A few more inches and I’d know if he tastes as good as he smells.Andby golly, I bet he does. “I do want to know you, Esme Prewitt. And I’m planning to make it my mission if you’ll let me.”
The heat coursing through me feels as if the flame from the candle has set me on fire, but I square my shoulders. I’m here. Single. And I’ve decided I don’t want this man to leave my side. Even after the creep who attempted to take me is apprehended. I’m going to hold Noah close these next five days.
Because I can.
Because I deserve some fun after Ryan’s humiliating exit from my life.
