Shane laughs.
My face flames.
My grandmother, bless her heart, asks Sienna aquestion about the wedding ceremony. Klein brushes the outside of my thigh with one hand. He looks at me with apology and I attempt an imperceptible nod.
Sienna and the wedding dominate conversation for the remainder of the meal. She details for my grandma the bridesmaids dresses. Goes on and on about the centerpieces (vases with pampas grass and dried fronds). Laments she wasn’t able to get the arch she wanted (a custom made piece done by a man in a small town in northern Arizona who wasn’t taking new clients because his wife was having a baby). I tune her out when she discusses how she and Shane chose their first dance song.
Klein and I retreat to our room after the late lunch is over to get ready for the bonfire listed on our itinerary.
I head for the bathroom, and Klein follows. He closes the door, and I whirl around, glaring. “You came to an island and forgot to tell me you’re allergic to shellfish? How? Did you see the way they all looked at me?” The moment was my current worst fear, nearly realized. “That could’ve ruined everything. Now at least one of them is probably suspicious. Spencer can be smart at the most inconvenient times.” Hot tears prick at my eyes.
Klein’s jaw tenses. “Yeah, that wasn’t great.”
“To put it mildly.”
“Are you mad?”
I shift, uncomfortable. Am I mad? That’s not the right word. I’m... I’m...oh. “I’m embarrassed. What kind of girlfriend doesn’tremembertheir boyfriend’s shellfish allergy? What if I’d eaten crab some other time and kissed you? I could’ve put you in danger. And”—maybe I am a little mad—“how could you not give me pertinent information?We spent all that time getting to know each other and you forgot to tell me about something that big? Is there a part of you that wants me to be found out?”
I know Klein wouldn’t do that, but I feel like a supreme fool right now.
Bracing my hands against the edge of the bathroom counter, I haul myself up onto it. Staring down at the tiled floor, at the tightly looped bath mat, I try to stop the fear from taking hold. That was close. Too close. Maybe it wasn’t enough to make them think this relationship is fake, but it was certainly enough to make them wonder why I tried to spoon-feed my boyfriend something he’s allergic to.
“It was an oversight, Paisley. Or have you never had one of those?” One eyebrow quirks in an infuriatingly endearing way. “You’re just perfect all the time, perfect Paisley walking around doing everything perfectly?”
My arms cross. “What are you talking about? That’s nonsense. You know I’m not perfect. Or do you not remember the terrible story I wrote in college?”
“How many times do I need to say I’m sorry?I’m sorry.” Klein drags his hands through his hair, leaving it sticking up in some places, and my indignation melts away. He makes frustration look good.
He continues. “The way I see it, you have two options. The first, you forgive me and move on.”
He really does have Peter Facinelli lips.
“Second, you harbor all that anger, and let it affect the way you act this week.”
Can a throat be strong? Masculine? Why is his throat attractive?
“Or, I guess there’s a third option where?—”
“Klein.”
“Yeah?”
“What will it take to make you shut up and kiss me?”
He’s on me before I can have another thought.
“Paisley,” he growls, fitting his big body between my legs. Two hands cup my cheeks, my jawbone slicing through the middle of his palms.
A fire, so big and bright, burns in his eyes. If I could place a single word in those irises, it would bedevour.
That’s what I think he’s about to do to me, but then he pulls back. He keeps his hands on me, but he studies my face, his eyes roaming over me.
“What are you thinking about?” My voice is a hoarse whisper. “Please don’t change your mind.”
I’m embarrassed to admit how much I want this. How much I want him to give me my best kiss. I already know it will be.
He shakes his head. “I was thinking about how I’d describe you on the page.”
