Diving In (10 page)

She’d decided not to. If she had, she might’ve given away how annoyed she was about him being there, which would’ve been tacky. Whining to a friend who’d loaned you a luxury condo in Maui just didn’t seem cool. “I thought you might rather I didn’t,” she said.

His gaze sharpened. “Yeah?”

“Since you’re not supposed to be here,” she continued carefully, wondering why he looked edgy.

“I’m not?” Flushing, he turned his attention back to the bowl and stirred more vigorously.
 

“That’s what you said.”

He put down the bowl to pour her a cup of coffee before turning around to get a pair of plates out of the cupboard. “Yeah. I did, didn’t I?”

Grateful for the coffee, Nicki didn’t ask him to elaborate. She stretched out a leg to reach the floor. “Well. Got to take a shower and get going.” She waved the banana at him and edged away.

“Wait, I just put the eggs in the water to poach.” He held up a pan with golden rolls—brioche, maybe—split in half, and the aroma of full-fat dairy and tarragon wafted over to her. “Lobster eggs Benedict. Do you smell that?” He thrust the pan closer to her.

Her stomach growled. “Wow.”

“I listened at your door to make sure you were here. I was about to wake you up.”

“Listened?” Reluctantly, she reclaimed the barstool. The sound of her delicate feminine slumber could knock a vase off a shelf. She lifted the coffee to her lips. “I’m surprised you had to even walk to the door.”

“Snoring’s sexy,” he said without any hint of mockery.

Sexy? Yeah, right. Maybe if she’d fallen asleep that night in college, he never would’ve left.

He lifted out the eggs, frowning at his phone propped up on the kitchen counter. “Shoot, I forgot to warm up the plates. I’m supposed to keep these warm while I scoop out the lobster.”

“That looks and smells amazing. Really.”

He shook his head. “The eggs are getting cold.”

“Can I help?”

“No, only one captain of this ship, thanks.” He glanced at her. “How’s the coffee?”

“Great.” She took a long gulp. “Excellent.”

“That is local. Unlike the New England crustacean here.” After a few minutes of jogging around the kitchen, he arranged the eggs over the rolls and lobster, topped it with sauce, and sprinkled a pinch of chives over the plates. Frowning at his creations, he asked, not looking at her, “Are you hungry?”

“Give me that plate or I’ll kill you.” She held out a hand for a second, then withdrew. “Sorry. We should set the table.”

“No time. It’s already cold.” He set the plate and a fork in front of her and crossed his arms over his chest.

Unable to resist licking her lips, she picked up her fork. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

“Sure.” He held his fork in one hand and stared at her.

Uncomfortable but starving, she lifted a bite to her mouth and tasted rich, savory perfection, which made it easy to take another bite, and another and another, ignoring the serious look on his face as he watched her.

“You’re a great cook,” she said over a mouthful of butter-soaked brioche.

Only then did he shovel forkfuls into his mouth. He ate it as if it were no better than instant oatmeal warmed up in a motel room’s microwave. “Glad you like it,” he mumbled.

“It’s incredible,” she said, but after a minute, she got tired of his lack of reaction and settled in to enjoy it in silence. Too soon, her plate was clean, and she lifted her coffee to wash it down. He’d already finished and had begun washing up. She frowned at his back. His broad, handsome shoulders.

Christ, she was drifting again. She climbed down from the stool and carried her dishes to the sink. “Let me clean up,” she said, bumping him with the empty mug.

“Give it a rest. You want to pay and you want to clean, but you can’t. Like it or not, this is
mi casa
.”

“But…” She stopped. Even with the meal over, he was still tense. His usual smile was missing. Not a good time to argue. She nudged her plate into his hands under the running water. “Thanks. It was delicious.”

“You’re welcome.”

She hesitated. Did something happen to him yesterday? Was it anything to do with her?

No. She wouldn’t let herself obsess about a man again. He had his own life and it had nothing to do with her. Without another word, she walked back to her room to get ready for the day. She was working up the guts to sign up for an official swim lesson; she’d just read on a sign downstairs that the resort had people on staff who taught at one of the pools.

Before she got in the shower, she picked up her phone to check her usual haunts online.

Ah
, she thought.
That’s what his problem is
.

The
Countdown to Thirty
on Rachel’s Facebook page had reached zero.

Happy Birthday, Rachel!
Nicki typed out to her, adding her message at the bottom of dozens of others in earlier time zones. While she turned up the hot water, she tried to understand Ansel’s problem with something as silly as a birthday. Every second of every day you were getting older and so was everybody else; today was no different from yesterday or tomorrow. In the scheme of the universe…

She propped one foot on the edge of the tub and lathered up for the daily shave. Wearing swimsuits meant maintenance she usually let slide back home. It was a sunny morning, and she’d been looking forward to getting in the water again, which was a miracle. The blog already had a fun discussion going about Phoebe’s courageous aquatic journey; she could elaborate on it for next week’s post and save herself the exhausting effort of coming up with a new topic.

But…

Standing under the spray, she thought about Ansel’s melancholy face at breakfast. It bothered her that he might spend his birthday alone, obviously feeling so down.

He may have decimated her self-confidence when she was young and vulnerable, but thirty could be an intimidating number—and he’d made her lobster eggs Benedict—and maybe she could try to cheer him up a little. It wouldn’t kill her to take a day off from her self-improvement journey, spend time with him. He hadn’t made any passes, and she could easily brush him off if he did, which he wouldn’t, and she didn’t expect him to, and she could handle that. Unlike Ansel, she liked getting older, precisely because it had thickened her hide.

After drying herself off and brushing her teeth, she faced a dilemma. If she was going to hang out with him today, should she put on makeup or go natural? Wear sophisticated resort fashion or old shorts and a T-shirt? She wiped the fog off the mirror and stared at herself.

Who the hell was she, anyway?

She was a thirty-year-old single schoolteacher on vacation. She was funny, smart, caring, and…

She leaned closer, poking her face. And she had a zit on her chin so big it deserved its own tourists. They could drive up it in the middle of the night to watch the sunrise.

Well, even the old Nicki would wear makeup during bad-skin days. Mascara and eyeliner did wonders to distract away from facial volcanoes.

She went split personality with the outfit, wearing an old favorite T-shirt with new capris, and she went out to find him before she changed her mind.

Leaning on the balcony railing, staring off into space, he didn’t hear her approach. She hesitated and glanced over him toward the pool before saying, “Happy birthday.”

He jerked and turned around. If he noticed the geological wonder on her epidermis, his eyes didn’t betray it. “Thanks. Rachel reminded you?”

She nodded. “I’m surprised you two wouldn’t be together today.”

“We usually are but… we’re on the opposite sides of the earth this year.”

“You chose to come here, though,” she said.

“And she chose to move to England and paint little pictures.”

“Good thing you’re so supportive.” She joined him at the railing. “Where are your parents?”

“Central America,” he muttered.

“They don’t love you either?”

His mouth tightened, fighting a smile. “Apparently not.”

“You sure are grumpy. I’m usually in a
fabulous
mood on my birthday.”

“Congratulations.”

“I eat whatever I want, that’s number one. And I always take a vacation day. That’s easy, because it’s in late December and school’s out anyway. And no matter how much she nags, I don’t let my mother take me to the mall.”

“Don’t all women like shopping?” he asked.

“Not the day after Christmas.”

“Ah.”

She nodded. “So you should snap out of it and have a nice day.”

“You should leave me alone and have a nice day.”

“What are your plans?” she asked.

With a groan, he hung his head.

“I mean for the day,” she clarified. “Not your life.”

“What’s the difference?”

She frowned at his profile and thought of a different tack. His resistance only made her more determined. “I told you about my little driving phobia, right?”

Straightening, he glanced at her. “Car elevators are especially problematic, I believe you said.”

The gold flecks in his gray eyes stunned her stupid for a moment. He had such gorgeous eyes. “Yeah,” she whispered.

He waited. “And?”

“And…” She turned away. “I’d really like to do that drive through the rainforest.”

“Hana?”

“It sounds so beautiful.”

“It is. You have to do it while you’re here.”

She wasn’t exaggerating the sigh that came out of her. “I’m dreading it.”

“There are a lot of sharp turns, but the traffic makes it slow,” he said. “You’re from California. Haven’t you driven Highway 1 up the coast?”

“It almost killed me.”

“Well, it’s nowhere near as terrifying as that, so you’ll be fine.” His tone became cautious. “Were you thinking of doing that today?”

“No, I was thinking of doing that yesterday. I just couldn’t get up the guts.” She glanced at him, batted her drag queen eyelashes, and grinned.

His lips twitched. “I thought you were trying to overcome your fears. If I drove you, wouldn’t that be a waste of a perfect opportunity?”

“Baby steps, Ansel,” she said. “Baby steps.”

“We’d have to leave soon. It’s a long drive.”

“I’m ready right now.”

He held her gaze, and she felt a moment of fear; her knees got wobbly when he looked at her like that.

But it was worse when he shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, Nicki. I wouldn’t be good company today. How about a rain check?”

Her smile froze. “The offer’s only good today.”

“Then it really is my loss.” He flinched. “I’m really sorry.”

It took her a second to breathe. “Hey, don’t apologize, I was trying to cheer
you
up,” she said, unwilling to come within a million miles of his pity. Punching him lightly in the shoulder, she moved away from the balcony to go inside. “I’ve got a swimming phobia to overcome.” Burying any embarrassment about being rejected, she hurried to her room and put on her bikini, the designer cover-up, a new floral headband to keep the hair out of her eyes, another layer of waterproof mascara, more waterproof eyeliner, bright red sandals—she looked around for something else to decorate herself with—and a scarf. It was Hawaii, but the scarf was silky and girly, and she could cover her face with it if she needed to hide suddenly. Such were the backup plans of a coward. Whatever it took.

She fled the condo, shouting a good-bye, and ran for the stairs with her towel flopping behind her and one strap unbuckled on her shoe.

Rain check. Sorry.
Ugh.

Chapter 8

A
NSEL
HEARD
THE
DOOR
SLAM
. He hung his head, sagged against the balcony railing.

A pretty girl invited him to spend the day with him on his birthday, and he told her to get lost?

Am I nuts?

Is this what old age did to a man? So what if his sister had tried to set them up; going for a drive wasn’t a marriage proposal.

He spun on his heel and ran inside to get his jeans and hiking sandals, a couple of family rain ponchos, and a cooler filled with bottled water, a pineapple—

Okay, maybe not a pineapple; too messy. He’d buy them a picnic on the road.

He was already in the hallway when he remembered she was wearing only a swimsuit and a robe. Although it was a little presumptuous—a lot presumptuous—he jogged back into the condo to her bedroom and grabbed the clothes she’d left on the bed. Thank God he didn’t have to look inside any drawers; though he did of course have to get her underwear and bra, which meant touching them, but he was quick and deliberately didn’t hold them up and imagine taking them off her. Because that would be something a dirty old man would do.

Better to actually
do
it.

No, that would be worse. He’d just take her up on the drive. Because this was his birthday, and he didn’t want to be alone.

He caught up to her just as she was kicking off her shoes at the side of the pool. When she started to take off the robe, he galloped over and grabbed her by the shoulders.

She gaped at him. “What is it?”

“I was stupid. Let’s do it,” he said, smiling. “I would love to spend the day with you.”

Her expression wasn’t as thrilled as he’d hoped. “I was just getting in the water.”

“It’s a long drive there and back, all day, really. We should go now.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What changed your mind?”

“As soon as you left, I realized I wasn’t going to get a better offer,” he said, meaning it as a self-deprecating joke but, seeing the flash of anger in her eyes, he realized he’d screwed up.

“Maybe you should give it a few minutes to an hour,” she said, “give yourself time to rake in a better one.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I mean, I could never get a better offer than to spend my birthday in the most beautiful place on earth with a beautiful woman.”

She looked at the sky, pressing her lips together. Out of all proportion to the situation, his heart skipped a beat as he waited.