Kate cuffs me on the shoulder with a laugh. “You didnot!”
“I most certainly did.”
“Is that why you said yes so fast?” Her tone is borderline flirty as her hands move to my shoulders.
Nerves swarm back into my stomach. It’s too easy to relapse around Kate. Get dangerously eager when she’s like this. I decide to change the subject.
“What are the plans today?” I ask.
Her hands stall on my shoulders. “Day two is usually…nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Yup. Mom likely will want to shop, and Liza usually goes with her.” She drops her hands from my body, typing on her phone as she speaks. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re doing some wedding planning.”
A few minutes later, her phone vibrates with a text, and she raises it in triumph. “Told you.”
LIZA: Mom and I are wrapping up centerpieces today.
It vibrates again.
LIZA: Save yourself and do something with your sexy co-worker you never shut up about.
Kate must catch my startled amusement, because she yanks the phone back so fast she almost drops it. But it’s too late.
Of all the shades of scarlet in this beautiful world, she’s nearing tomato.
“Pretend you didn’t see that,” she whispers, clutching the device to her tank.
“See what?” I wink.
She rewards my good behavior with a tiny lip twitch.
I stand, wiping my hands and taking her plate.
“Alrighty,” I say, plans forming at record speed. “Get dressed, fake girlfriend. You heard the woman—we’ve got a date to go on.”
“A date?”
I unleash my most charming grin. “A date.”
thirty-six
PRESENT DAY
BRANDON
I’m forty minutes into watching an ocean documentary, but I can’t focus because I know Kate is mere feet away getting ready for our first date in over six years.
These last few months, I’ve exhausted all my options. I’ve done all I can do to show Kate how great we could be together. Tried everything to convince her to give us another shot. I drag a hand across my freshly shaven jaw, then straighten the hem of my dark green v-neck.
If this vacation is our last shot, I’m giving it everything I have.
The documentary credits roll as the handle of Kate’s bedroom door finally turns. She walks out in frayed denim shorts, her long hair twisted into two buns on her nape. A cherry-red halter top edges her bare shoulders. The bottom of the top flares out in a wide ruffle, offering occasional glimpses of her toned stomach when she moves.
I fiddle with my gold neck chain as I turn off the TV.
“You look beautiful, Kate.”
