Another sigh. “We only want to save you from yourself.”
Shoulders hunching, Heath glared at his phone with an intensity he hoped would transfer through the screen and set one of Andres’ priceless trinkets on fire. Preferably one he was currently wearing.
“The only reason I’m even on this stupid trip is because you both threatened me with bodily harm if I didn’t see it through. But the moment I check in with a juicy little story, you gang up and harangue me?”
“Honey—”
“No!” he snapped, then lowered his voice and intensified his focused frustration. Perhaps he could will Andres into spilling red wine on the Persian carpet he’d long coveted and recently acquired.
“I will not allow you to treat me like a golden retriever with a penchant for eating rocks. I know the difference between flirting and friendly, and am fully capable of identifying when a man is or isn’t interested,thankyouverymuch.”
Manuel huffed. “Chloe only did that once!”
“The problem isn’t that you don’t know the difference. It’s that you ignore it and end up getting hurt.”
A burning sensation crept into his sinuses. Dammit, he would not cry at the airport. “That isexactlyhow you speak to Manuel’s dog, Andres, minus the baby-talk voice.”
“Would the voice help?”
Nostalgic for the days when hanging up on someone included the therapeuticclangof slamming down a handset, Heath tore the buds from his ears and shoved them and his phone deep into the recess of his carry-on as he stormed toward the restrooms. If he was going to cry in the godforsaken airport, he would do it with dignity. At least, what little dignity he could maintain with stall doors that never properly closed and toilet seats he’d never in a million years allow near his exposed skin.
A peripheral flash of broad shoulders in airy linen halted his march. Beyond the sea of milling passengers, a smiling Mr. Westin strode toward a petite brunette wearing a crew uniform and a flattering blush.
Hannah.
Ah, not so embarrassed after all. Good for her!
Personally, he’d have thrown himself from the plane to avoid ever seeing another soul again. Although if the other soul were to look like Westin…
He sniffed away the sting of his so-called friends’ words as he observed the two chatting away by a food kiosk. The nerve.The gall! Did they really think so little of him? As though he wouldn’t recognize that the man making that woman flush and laugh wasn’t interested in him.
Westin was handsome and charismatic, and certainly knew his way around a double entendre, but he hadn’t been flirting, and at no point during their chat had Heath thought otherwise.
Had there been moments when he’dwishedthey were flirting? Well, yes. He was only human. Who wouldn’t want theattention of an obviously well-educated man who drank ridiculously expensive bourbon, dressed beautifully, and smelled utterly divine? But just because he’d entertained a thought or two didn’t mean he’d read anything into their exchange.
It wasn’t like he’d been quietly fantasizing about counting the man’s freckles as they lay together on the beach, upon a crisp white blanket spread beneath the shade of a towering palm tree.
Heath coughed delicately into his cupped fist and checked himself in the airport’s gaudy reflective paneling. Amazingly, neither his face nor his pants had caught fire.
Okay, fine. Maybe his mind had wandered a touch, but so what? Indulging in a little fantasizing was healthy and harmless.
With begrudging honesty, he acknowledged he’d gone overboard with his fantasizing about Christian. However, theirs was a completely unique situation. He’d known the man for decades. Plus, the bastardhadflirted with him. More than once.
Obviously, it was apples and oranges.
Emotionally steadied by this renewed irritation, he settled into a space where he could set up his laptop and at least feign productivity.
Thanks to his enjoyable andentirely platonicconversation with Westin, he’d not gotten a lick of work done on the first flight. This was a problem, because the resort was annoyingly “internet-free.” Which meant that the pile of ungraded essays on his to-do list would remain undone if he didn’t use this layover time wisely.
He harrumphedat his keyboard. The discovery of that little nuance had thoroughly razed his plans to spend the entire two weeks working. The resort, with its bothersome dedication to self-care, offered only a small area in the main building for access to the outside world. Everywhere else was a dead zone. This made avoiding fun far more difficult than he’d expected.
The well of his pettiness ran deep, but he would draw theline at putting himself on display like some Working Stiff exhibit at the Smithsonian.
He could hear the commentary now. “Is that how the riff-raff survives? How adorably quaint!”
Then they’d sail off on their climate-destroying vessels while drinking from overflowing champagne glasses and eating carefully preserved caviar from extinct sea life. Was it any wonder the orcas had unionized?
Hehmphedagain, earning an annoyed glance from the person next to him, and pondered why he insisted upon becoming captivated by men who were so obviously part of the crème de la crème.
