As we left the dining room, I asked, “How long has she worked for you?”
“According to my father, I stole her from him. She used to cook for him. I’ve known her since I was little. She travels with me when I leave Houston for extended periods. I have a sensitive stomach and can’t take the chance of what foods may do to me.”
I snickered. “Liar. You’re scared to try different foods. I can already tell you’re a picky eater. With all that food on the table, you ate an omelet and sausage and didn’t eat much in Jamaica.”
Canaan smiled. “In Jamaica, I only had an appetite for you.”
“Mm. . .”Swoon. I hid my blush by walking slightly ahead and snapping pictures of the house with my phone.
He opened the front door to a sun that draped our skins like clean laundry fresh from the dryer. “I do have a queasy stomach and allergies. I can’t afford to get sick while I’m training.”
“Then how do you drive at those speeds in a circle? I got motion sickness watching you on the track.” We still held hands, which I liked immensely. His palm was smooth yet firm and comforting.
“When I’m on the track, it’s like I’m in a different realm. Like nothing that bothers me in life affects me at all when I’m racing. It’s my escape.” He released my hand as we climbed into a golf cart to take us out of the resort to his leased sports car. Before I could snap my seat belt, he took off suddenly, and I fell against him. “Hold on.”
“Why are you such a boy?” I bit the inside of my cheek to stop my smile when he used the slip to throw his arm around my shoulders. If anyone had told me that Canaan Jackson was fun to be around, I would have scoffed loudly in disbelief.
“Mind if I do a quick live?” I lifted my cell to my face.
“Do I have a choice?” he frowned.
“Nope. This helps us both, remember?”
I clicked on my phone, adjusted the straps on my sundress, and positioned the phone to capture Canaan driving the cart. “Hey . . . We’re still in Daytona on our way to town for a little shopping. This man even speeds in a golf cart, and I’m holding on for dear life.”
Canaan winked at my phone. “Yet, she’s managing to hold on to her cell. She can’t let anything happen to her precious baby.”
I tilted the phone so viewers could see my feigned annoyed face. “He’s jealous of my phone.”
“Not jealous. Speaking the truth. I have no idea where my phone is, and hers is glued to her hip. She carries her phone into the shower,” accused Canaan.
“Next to the shower. Not in.” Comments scrolled by. “No, Maria, I’m not going to show Canaan naked. He’s forever off-limits. Yes, it is beautiful here, Tangi5. Happy Valentine’s Day to you too, Missy.”
Canaan squinted at the number of viewers. “Damn, girl. You have six hundred thousand people watching us right now?”
“Yes, and all because you want to make me your wife.” I leaned my head on his shoulder with the beautiful backdrop of the resort. “They want to be a part of this journey with us. This is my first . . . correction . . .ourfirst day on our new adventure. I’ll frequently post, and for the next three months, as Canaan Jackson prepares to make history.”
Canaan turned his attention back to the path, and his mood cooled again.
My stomach lurched, and I kept the phone focused on me to keep my followers from seeing his wrinkled forehead. “We’re about to go into town to pick up a few things because we leave tomorrow for Miami. Yes, Miami. We have to be there for three months while he trains for his F1 race.” My eyes followed the comments. “We’ll do more lives when the time is right. Canaan has to stay focused, and I’m here for support. Make sure you follow and tell your friends to follow. Talk to you later. Out.”
Canaan remained quiet when I clicked off and pulled into the parking lot beside his red Maserati. He jumped onto the driver’s side and didn’t bother to open the passenger door for me.
“Guess you’re only a gentleman when people watch,” I commented when I snapped my seat belt.
“We’re fake, right?” He waved his hand slightly, and the engine roared to life.
“Yeah, but I thought we were vibing.”
He quirked a naturally arched brow. “I thought we were too . . . until I realized all this is an act for you.”
“What does that mean?”
Canaan slanted his gaze for a long pause before he replied, “Nothing. We’ll keep it simple like you wanted. No PDA. When we get into town, I’ll drop you off wherever you want to go, and I’ll pick you up later. Don’t take all day because I need my rest.”
I pointed at his face. “This . . . This attitude is what I’m talking about. Trust me, you’re not in a zone. You’re just being an asshole.”
“Isn’t that what you think of me anyway?” Canaan shifted gears and blasted some rap song obnoxiously loud as he sped to town.
