“Can you blame him though?” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can catch them. I’m so not used to defending Ryke Meadows, but being in his company for three months maybe opened me up to his ways.
My eyes widen, and Lo looks equally shocked by the words. “Explain,” he says.
“Well, it’s just…” I stumble. “Daisy is a high fashion model. She’s always around older people, and she doesn’t look sixteen. She has a career. She makes money and travels the world. Sometimes she acts her age, sure, but most of the time she’s basically twenty.” There are moments where I even feel younger than her. I’m less worldly, less cultured, and less experienced (not sexually but for everything else, sure). “I can understand how that might be confusing for someone who’s attracted to her.”
Lo presses his hands to his face, more distressed than I’ve seen him in a long while, at least in moments that don’t involve craving booze. “That word, don’t say that word.”
“What?”
“Attracted.”
Oh. “I think my fear is that the more we keep telling them to stop, the more they’ll just do it to spite us.” And what if nothing’s there but friendship and we involuntarily push them together. “…like two rebellious teenagers or something.”
He groans. “She is ateenager.” He drops his hands and lets out another breath. “This is so fucked up.”
I smile at this and nudge his side. “Doesn’t it feel good to not be the only ones?”
He meets my gaze with a tilt of his head, and his lips try hard not to rise. “No, I like being alone on thefucked upisland with you.” He nuzzles his nose into the crook of my neck. I laugh, a sound that I didn’t think possible an hour ago, and he responds with two light kisses on my collarbone.
“So what do we do?” he asks me, intertwining his fingers with mine. I appraise our hands for a moment, trying to come up with a plan.
“Maybe…maybe we just keep them separated for the rest of the vacation. Or try to.”
“But what about when we go home? What do we do about them then?”
“How many times are they really around each other?” Daisy has school, and modeling occupies most of her time. Without her knowing about my sex addiction, she’s invited to less and less outings with our group. Sometimes I imagine telling her, but I don’t think it will improve our relationship. And that’s what I’m trying to repair.
“Then we have a plan.”
He extends his palm like we’re closing a business deal. As I go in for the shake, he drops his hand and plants a surprise kiss on my lips. It takes me aback, but it sends little happy flutters in my stomach. The kiss lasts longer than the others as he cups the back of my head and gently opens my mouth with his. I feel the brush of his tongue and more flapping fills my belly.
He edges back after a moment and I curl up in his arms. One thing is certain.
Surprise kisses are the best.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
LOREN HALE
Four daysof pool and beach have left me a little sunburned, tan, and tired. Lily and I have succeeded in separating Ryke and Daisy for the majority of the trip, at least enough where they haven’t had any opportunity to really talk.
Tonight we’re all eating at an authentic Mexican restaurant in the city. Chips and dip overflow the table, and the noise gathers by a stage, which sits close to the bar. I draw back at Daisy’s threat to make us all do karaoke later tonight. Not going to happen, even if the youngest Calloway girl can be highly persuasive. She seems to bat lashes, give us those big green puppy-dog eyes and everyone falls under her spell. The frightening part, I think she knows she has this power too.
If I was Greg Calloway, I’d have her ass on the next flight home. But I know her father: a workaholic who pours his time in business, who believes love equates to money and the luxury he can provide his family. I’ve watched Lily accept that kind of love and move on, as I’ve done in a sense. My father wasn’t always around. You don’t achieve this lifestyle without sacrificing something.
I ask Daisy what her mother thinks of her being in Cancun. Lily confirmed that she has permission, but I’d like to hear it from Daisy’s mouth.
She hasn’t touched a single chip. Her hands busy themselves with folding a paper napkin into a flower. The one downside to separating Daisy and Ryke, she seems less inclined to take bites of food without pressure from him. His persistence is useful sometimes. And I’ve tried to do the same “eat this” bit, but she gives me a look like I’m crazy for suggesting an avocado, and then she dodges me with word games that spin my head. Ryke can keep up. I can’t. My lingo is clearly meant for sex addicts, not adrenaline junkies.
“Well, you know…” Daisy starts and trails off as if I didn’t ask a question. She looks around and taps a waiter on the back. “Hey, can we get a margarita pitcher?”
He stares at her blankly, and with Ryke in the bathroom, Connor takes the lead and translates for her. Apparently, I’m the only guy who slept in Spanish class.
“Daisy,” I say. “You didn’t answer the question.”
We sit at a circular table, so it doesn’t take much strain for Daisy to turn back to me. “Oh, sorry, what was it?” she asks innocently.
“Samantha, your mother,” I say dryly, already knowing where this is headed. “She doesn’t mind you being out here all week?” Samantha’s ways have always eluded me. She digs her nails into Poppy’s daughter, Rose’s fashion line and Daisy’s modeling career but leaves Lily alone. It’s strange and something I couldn’t quite comprehend before rehab. Being around them, I’m starting to understand it even more.
