God, he was a sweetheart of a man.
“Better. Thank you.” She bit her lower lip. “I just don’t know about this place, Thomas. I know it sounds horrible and ungrateful and selfish, because we’re getting this trip for free, but?—”
“You’re not horrible.” He rose to his feet and sat next to her on the bed, that hair-dusted thigh of his only inches away from hers. “You’re under no obligation to like anything, Callie, ever. Not even if it’s free. Not even if other people like it. Your feelings are your feelings.”
Why did that statement, firm but softly spoken, make her eyes sting?
If she could tell anyone, she could tell him. He felt…
Well, he felt safe. In a way Andre never had, even at the beginning.
“It’s just…” She studied the frayed hem of his olive-green shorts, unable to meet his gaze. “I have issues with anxiety sometimes. So it can be hard for me to tell if there’s really a problem, or whether I’m just overreacting to something.”
He touched her forearm with a fingertip. “I had no idea.”
“I try to keep a handle on it.” Raising her chin, she issued her plea face-to-face. “Please don’t say anything to anyone at work.”
“I wouldn’t. I promise.” His dark brows had drawn tight in concern. “I’m just sorry you have to struggle with something like that, because it sounds difficult and”—he paused—“disorienting, I guess. Maybe isolating too, if you don’t think you can tell anyone.”
Her next breath came without as much strain.
He got it. Maybe not completely, but the basic contours of the problem.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “All those things.”
His little nod of acknowledgment eased her breathing even more. “So tell me what’s worrying you, then.” He fell back on the bed and braced himself on his elbows, giving her the superior position. Somehow, she didn’t think that was a coincidence.
She turned her head to track his movement, and there he was, his body spread out almost flat next to hers, his chest a warm, solid expanse beneath that thin blue tee. A display of masculine beauty in recline, lean and muscled. A temptation for her curious fingers, which twitched to explore the terrain.
But she and Thomas weren’t there yet. Might never be there. So she needed to keep talking, if only to distract herself.
“I feel like we’re at risk of being sacrificed to some parrot overlord or becoming Stepford Wives.” She frowned, considering the matter. “Stepford Parrots, I mean. Everything is just so…controlled. Rehearsed. It makes me uncomfortable. And I get the sense that Parrot Cay keeps a very, very close eye on its guests. I don’t like feeling watched all the time.”
He flopped all the way to his back and rested his head on his palms, his elbows splayed to the sides. “I can understand that.”
She waited a minute, but that was all he said. He didn’t tell her to get over it. He didn’t tell her she was mistaken or stupid. He didn’t even ask her to justify her statements.
The relief of it stunned her. So much so that she flopped down beside him, onto the pillows, his elbow next to her ear.
So much so that her racing thoughts cleared, and she could dig a little deeper.
“But I’m not even sure those are my main issues, really.” She let out a long breath. “I guess I don’t like being watched by the camera crew all the time, either. Especially since we’re lying, and I’m worried about getting caught. I’m worried about putting you in an uncomfortable position, and I’m worried about what we’ll be expected to do to justify receiving this trip. And it’s hard for me to be in an unfamiliar environment, especially when I’m already tense.”
That was the central irony, wasn’t it? In her desperation to seize a sandy, sun-soaked week of recovery from the work and stress of the last few years, she’d invented a relationship with Thomas. But—perhaps fittingly—both the lie and the television show enabling the trip had transformed it into an additional, potent source of worry for her. Maybe for him, too.
Her throat had gone tight. “All this is just…”
He waited patiently, without trying to fill in the words for her.
“It’s a lot,” she finally said. “It’s a lot to handle, especially for someone like me.”
The rooms in the hotel must be well-insulated, because she couldn’t hear anything for a few seconds but the whoosh of the air-conditioning and her heartbeat.
In the fraught silence, her thoughts spiraled.
Maybe he hated being put in this position. Maybe all her complaints, all her worries were too much for him. Maybe this entire trip had been an enormous mistake from the beginning.
Then he levered up on one elbow and looked down into her eyes, his lean face solemn. “Two things. First, you never have to worry about putting me in an uncomfortable position. I don’t suffer silently, and I’d be more than willing to talk to the HATV crew if either one of us had complaints about what was happening. In general, very few things make me uncomfortable, so please stop devoting headspace to that issue.”
