“I was on my way to talk to you when that sorry man tried to make off with you,” Noah reveals. “I’m glad I got to play hero. Saved me from coming up with a non-creepy hello to say to the woman who had suddenly captured my entire existence with just one sassy toss of her brown hair.” He tucks a strand behind my ear, lingering. “Thank you for trusting me with your story.”
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.
The phrase appears in capitalized, italicized, bold letters inside my head. But no. That doesn’t happen, right? Attraction at first sight. Lust at first sight, which admittedly, I’m doing too much of and should reel in now that I know what it feels like at my ripe age of twenty-six.
But love at first sight? Surely not. Love has to be built. Trust has to grow alongside it. It takes time.
Can two people truly know they’re meant for one another with one look? One night spent talking? One morning spent jet skiing together?
Is it just the damsel-in-distress rescue weighing on my heart? The drugged effect I feel by being here on this island, miles and miles away from Mississippi and my responsibilities and my demons?
I jerk back, realizing I’d beenpettingNoah. Both of my hands had found his hair. His cheeks. His shoulders.
What has gotten into me? I don’t do physical touch.
“Come back here.” Noah’s voice is a notch above a breathless whisper as he wraps one hand around my head and tugs me toward him. His lips press against mine, and clarity seeps in through the soft contact. No. If I hadn’t been confronted by that other man, and Noah had approached me anyway, I know my soul wouldn’t have let me rest until I knew everything there was to know about him. His voice, his smile, his eyes, and even his smell… They call me like a siren’s song.
Deepening the kiss, I pour every emotion I’m experiencing into his lips. I think when most people kiss, they lose their minds. But when I kiss Noah, the world finally makes sense, and I want to live in this placid lucidity forever.
The Jet Ski continues to bob up and down, and Noah and I pull apart. “I like your necklace.”
Noah’s hand instinctively rises to the silver cross, his eyes traveling back to Mississippi as he looks off in the distance. “Thank you. It was a gift from Grandpa before he passed away. Said it would always guide me to love just like it did for him and Grandma.”
“That’s beautiful.” I place my hand over his. Noah’s gaze shifts back to me as he dons a soft, heartachingly beautiful smile.
Noah kisses my forehead. “I come from a family of romantics. What can I say?”
***
“So, I told you why I’m here alone. What are you doing in one of the most romantic places on earth by yourself?”
Hiking was not on my to-do list today after a morning of chaotic jet skiing, but Noah insisted that we see the view of the island from the top of an extinct volcano. I’m sweaty and a bit breathless, but Noah is graciously letting me keep the pace.
Plus, being away from the resort settles me. It’s a moment of knowing without a doubt I’m safe since the police still haven’t caught the guy.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
I scoff. “Try me.”
“All right,” he says before grabbing my hand and stopping us. He tosses my water bottle from the back of my bag to me as he grabs his own. “I’m here because I’m doing book research.”
“Like, you’re writing a book?”
He grins, amused, before lifting his shirt and wiping a sheen of sweat off his face. “Hot guys can write books just as well as they read them, sweetheart.”
Excitement takes over. “Tell me everything! I’ve always wanted to write a book.”
As we continue to climb, Noah tells me all about his career as a contemporary romance author. He says his whole family is in the publishing business in one form or another, but he’s the only one who has written books.
Three books, to be precise.
Two are published with one in the editing stages. And he’s currently drafting another that takes place in Bora Bora, which is why he is here.
“You take your career seriously, huh?” I ask, stepping over a pointed rock. Noah is right beside me, helping me trek as I need it. However, he doesn’t answer immediately, so I stop.
Noah walks a few paces ahead of me before turning around, beads of sweat rolling down his face. “Are you coming?”
“Are you going to answer my question?”
