Trust Me (3 page)

He lifts up his sunglasses, and I keep mine in place.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he says.

“I was just dozing in and out.” Immediately, I pick up my book as I try to send the not-interested vibe, but he doesn’t get the message.

“Can I get you a drink from the bar?” He steeples his fingers under his chin as he looks me over.

Cocky bastard.
Indifferently, I respond, “No, thanks.”

“Are you here on business or pleasure?”

This guy is not taking the hint.
I hate to be bitchy, but I just want to be left alone. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I came down here for some alone time.” Being blunt isn’t normally my style.

He sighs, getting the message, and heads to the water.

Good.

After I go for a dip in the pool and have a quick bite to eat, the area is exploding with people. I head toward my room to take a relaxing bubble bath. As I near the bar area, I see a waiter wiping off a vacated table.

“Excuse me. What time does the sun set here?”

He straightens up. “Right before eight, ma’am. If you’re thinking about catching it, I suggest coming down around seven thirty. Make sure to bring your camera if you have one.”

“Thank you. Have a good day.” I start to get excited about using my camera. Taking pictures is one of the only things that still soothes me and gives me peace.

“You, too, ma’am,” he says as he finishes cleaning the table.

I continue my way up to my room. As soon as I enter, I head to the bathroom to start my bath water. The hotel room comes with a complimentary bottle of chamomile-scented bubble bath. The smell relaxes me, and I add a generous amount to the steaming hot water. Anxious to get into the tub, I strip and ease myself in. Turning off the water, I decide to close my eyes for a bit.

Lying there among the foaming bubbles, I randomly pop them with my fingers while listening to the consoling voice of Michael Bublé. I think about what my next steps might be.
What would Mom and Dad think of what I’ve become in the last year?
Sometimes, I feel like I don’t even recognize myself.

If I were to ask my mom for advice on this, I could hear her saying,
Advice is what we ask when we already know the answer but wish we didn’t.

It’s so true. They would be sad to see how I have quit living life to the fullest and have resorted to just existing. I do want to start living again, but I am so afraid of what will happen after the loss I have suffered.

As I climb out of the tub, I ponder about how I’ll start reclaiming my life. I’ve let the pain of my parent’s death consume me, and if I’m not careful, it’ll continue to devour me until nothing is left.

I decide to take a quick nap before the sunset, so I open the balcony doors and rest as the distant sounds of seagulls and the ocean play me a lullaby.

A few hours later, I emerge from my room, wearing a light blue T-shirt and comfortable black yoga pants, with my camera in hand and my bag on my shoulder. During the elevator ride down, I rummage through my bag for a hair tie, and after finding one, I throw my hair up into a haphazard messy ponytail to keep the hair out of my face while I’m taking pictures on the beach.

Once in the lobby, I head outside to the beach, and a clean, salty scent greets me and wraps around me. After removing my flip-flops, I squish the sand in between my toes. The scenery brings happy memories, and I welcome them as I remember when my family used to head to the beach for long weekend getaways. It’s good to think about the memories and not feel like I am being swallowed up by the sadness that normally accompanies the thought of my parents.

Making my way down the shoreline, I enjoy the peaceful feeling of having no expectations. It’s just the crashing waves, my camera, and me. In the distance, I see some dolphins tormenting a seagull. They seem to be playing a keep-away game. I prepare my camera and adjust the settings. It’s a professional digital camera with a wide-angle zoom lens that my parents had bought as my birthday present after I finished my first year of college.

I begin taking shots from different angles as I try to capture contrasting lights from the sky. There’s something magical about taking an image that will help me remember all the smells, feelings, and thoughts I had in that exact moment of time. It’s like freezing a piece of history that can never happen in the same way again.

As I start walking, I think back to my apartment, which is covered with pictures I’ve taken, memories I have made, and moments I will cherish.

“Ow!”
Oh my gosh!
I got so captivated in the moment that I almost ran someone over in the process. My eyes automatically shut from the impact. I decide not to open them as I take stock of how hard this guy’s body feels.
Crap, my shoulder hurts from hitting him.

“Shit.” The voice is deep, raw, and powerful.

Now is when I have to face this total stranger and admit that I made a total idiot of myself because I was distracted.
Um, yeah, I totally rock.
He did not sound pleased either.
Well, who would be when some crazy person rams into you out of the blue?
It’s time to face that inevitable moment when I wish I could just fast forward, so I don’t physically have to live through it.

“I’m so sorry. I was gazing out to the ocean, and I didn’t see you.” When I look up into the eyes of the stranger, I am immediately frozen into place from the deep blue gazing back at me. They are the purest blue pair of eyes I have ever seen.
Thank goodness I got that last sentence out.
Right now, my brain has completely stopped working, and I am not even sure I can process anything of sound mind.

Mr. Blue Eyes has black hair flopping in that sexy way. My fingers want to run through it as I pull his mouth down to mine. His lips look to be firm yet soft. His angular jaw is something I could spend hours—

Holy shit!
I shake my head to stop my train of thought as I turn ten shades of red.
Did he just ask me something?
“Um, sorry, what did you say again?”
Oh, kill me now.

“I said, do you always go to such extremes to get attention from guys you’re interested in talking to?” His eyes are dancing with excitement.

Just then, I realize that he hasn’t let go of my upper shoulders from when he reached out to grab me. My skin is on fire at the spots where he’s touching me. I’m confused by my reaction, and it causes me to completely miss what he said…again. “What?”

“Are you seriously asking me to repeat myself for a third time?” He’s says jokingly.

Oh, that smile. Would it be weird to start fanning myself?
“Um, no…I mean, um…”

Damn him.
He is now smirking as I remember his previous question. He’s caused my brain to run on a ten-second delay. It’s time for a little payback as I play along. “Actually, I was vying for that hot guy’s attention over there. By irritating a brute like you, I was hoping that I could play the damsel-in-distress card. Then, he would come to my rescue, and voila, you would be out of the picture, and I would be with someone who deserves my time.”

He gives me a once-over, and the heat in his eyes feels as if he is devouring me.

“I think that guy would actually need to be paying attention to your damsel-in-distress act to be able to rescue you.”

On a cellular level, my body reacts to the sound of his voice. We are still standing close, and my body is not listening to my mind telling it to take a step back. It doesn’t want this feeling to end.

I must remain outwardly unaffected.
“Oh, he is, trust me. He’s just playing it cool. He’s waiting for the best moment to make the biggest impression, so he can ensure never-ending gratitude.”

“Have dinner with me,” he says, his voice serious and seductive.

All I can do is blink at the sudden change in conversation. It makes me feel like I’m on a rocking boat, and I’m trying to keep it from swaying too much. For whatever reason, I am drawn to him like I have never been drawn to anyone in my life.

“What?” I want to facepalm myself for saying that again to him.

He’s on the verge of chuckling.
Gah!
He’s so infuriating and intriguing at the same time.

“I think you like the sound of my voice. Is that why you keep asking me to repeat myself?”

“Um…no?” I just want to die.
Seriously, how did I respond with a question?
My cheeks begin to heat again as I get a full megawatt smile, but then he looks confused.

“No, you won’t have dinner with me? Or, no, you don’t like the sound of my voice?”

My brain is on overload, and honestly, at this point, I am not even sure what my
no
meant. I don’t want this moment to end, but he’s a complete stranger.
Didn’t I learn about stranger-danger in school?

He interrupts my thoughts. “Hey, listen, a perfectly crowded restaurant is right over there on the beach. Please join me for dinner, and if you want to leave at any time, you can. Plus, I think you owe me after trying to use me,” he says as he winks at me.

Oh geez.
My heart starts to beat faster. I don’t think I could say no even if I tried. My body is obviously refusing to obey my mind. I can picture it now. After saying no, he would start to walk off, only to have me hanging on, not letting him go.
There’s only so much humiliation a person can take in a day.
“Okay, sure.”

He lets go of my shoulders and rests his hand on the small of my back. That strange feeling is pulsing at the place where he is now touching me, causing an unfamiliar deep ache to grow within me.
I have got to get a grip.
His effect on me is crazy.

He leads me to a restaurant called The Beach Hut. The place has a thatched roof and is open on all sides. When we arrive at our wooden wicker table, the arm pulling out my chair is toned and defined. Every attribute about him is mouthwatering. My mental swooning has to stay in check before I lose all control. He takes a seat in front of me.

The sun has begun to set behind us, casting magnificent orange and purple rays across the sky. Seagulls are flying circles over the ocean as they try to bring in one last snack for the day. A slight breeze blows from the north, and the smell of mesquite coming from the kitchen fills the air. It’s perfect. A waiter delivers two water glasses.

“So, what should I call the beautiful damsel in distress?”

He takes a sip of water as he watches my every move, making me feel self-conscious.

Beautiful. Did he call me beautiful?

The waiter comes and takes our order. I pick out the first thing on the menu, not even processing what I requested, as this stranger in front of me continues to fry my circuits.

“Alli,” I finally answer him.
Alli? What the hell?
I never go by Alli.
Why did I use the nickname I have fought against my entire life?

I am completely taken off guard. I am drawn to this guy, like a bug is to one of those zapper things. I cross my fingers, hoping that whatever this is doesn’t end up shocking the hell out of me.

I should go. No, I should stay. Wait…calm down.
I feel like my mind is going in never-ending circles because of this guy.
This is crazy. I am crazy.

When he reaches out and touches my hand, my eyes shoot up to his. There’s an undeniable connection between us.

“Don’t go. It’s just dinner,” he says softly.

I look down at our hands and then back into his eyes, and for some unexplained reason, my nerves instantly settle. “Okay.”

He lets out a small breath as he releases my hand, and I immediately miss his touch.

He continues on his quest for information. “What’s your last name?” He looks at me expectantly.

I get a feeling this guy is used to getting what he wants and when he wants it.
What could he possibly see in me?

Before I have a chance to answer, our dinner and beers are delivered. It looks like I ordered a burger and fries.

Thinking back to the question I was just asked, I try to answer sincerely. “Can we just have dinner and only exchange first names for now? I need to get to know you a little bit more before I give my last name.” It sounds stupid and naive, but if this guy is a creepy stalker and my intuition has completely evaded me, I’ll feel a tad safer.