I’m feeling all the guilt as Cav does as Juan’s instructed. “I’m so sorry. I got too excited.”
Cav grabs my hand. “Hey. Stop. Baby, I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt. Just a little sting and an itch. It’s already fading.”
“But—”
He squeezes my fingers. “I’d take a bullet for you, Greer. This is nothing.”
He’s smiling, but I’m trying to comprehend what he just said. I’d take a bullet for you. He means every word, and it’s the most powerful thing anyone has ever said to me. My iron-clad grip on my heart loosens by degrees.
“I don’t want you getting hurt for me,” I say quietly.
“That’s not something you get to choose.” He lowers himself onto the cushioned bench seat in front of the cockpit and pulls me down beside him.
I’m quiet the rest of the boat ride to the island, having lost my appetite for adventure for the moment. Cav picks up on my changing mood.
“You okay?” he asks over the roar of the engine and the hull slapping the Caribbean blue water as we head toward the channel that will let Juan back in through the reef.
“Yeah. Just . . .” I let my words trail off because I have no idea what to say.
“Still freaking out?”
I meet his hazel gaze. “Yeah. I don’t like that feeling. At all.”
Cav’s arm tightens around my shoulders. “Everything’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. You got hurt because of me. Because I didn’t wait and listen.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. If you take this as a reminder to look before you leap, then we’re good.”
I force a smile to my lips. “I guess I need to do that more often, huh?”
One of Cav’s eyebrows hitches up. “It wouldn’t hurt. But luckily, you’ve got me to catch you when you make those jumps. I won’t let you fall.”
Do I really have him? Maybe for now, in this fantasy bubble. But what about when this is over? I’m waiting for a message from Creighton that the coast is clear and all the concerns have been contained.
What happens when we’re back in the real world? Do Cav and I have a future? Those are the questions I should be asking, but I’m not ready to hear the answers yet.
Instead, I lean into his heat and watch the beginnings of a beautiful sunset paint the sky.
Every day we’re here, I’m more and more fucked. Spending so much time with Greer has done nothing but reaffirm the fact that leaving her three years ago, while inevitable, is the worst decision I’ve ever made. After we got back to the house following the jellyfish incident, she fussed over me, wishing she could google how to properly treat it. Juan gave us some pointers, but still Greer worried.
She fucking worried about me.
I haven’t had someone worry about me . . . in a long time.
That fact just brings it home that Greer is one of a kind. I’ve been wanted for my fame, my notoriety, and my money, but with Greer, I know it’s none of those things.
She’s the billionaire’s sister who wanted the maintenance man. A fact that still blows me away and reminds me how much time I wasted.
Buttoning a light cotton shirt, I walk to the doorway of the bathroom where she’s putting on makeup in front of the mirror. She’s fucking beautiful. And she could already be mine if I wasn’t who I am.
Hollywood and the movie business gave me the chance to flip the bird to the reasons that kept us apart, and this time I’m not letting her go, regardless of what comes next. I’m going to make this real.
“I’m almost ready, I swear,” Greer says, meeting my eyes in the mirror.
“Take your time. We’re in no hurry. And you know you don’t need to get all dolled up to eat dinner on the deck, right?”
Her glare is too cute not to smirk at.
“I’m not sitting across from you—looking all drop-dead gorgeous—without looking equally sexy. Or at least as sexy as I can manage. It’s called balance, Cavanaugh. Deal with it.”
I think it’s the first time she has called me by my full name, and my brain skips forward to some vision of the future where she’s telling me to suck it up and deal with her primping for the red carpet premiere of one of my movies.
Fuck, having her on my arm for that would be a dream. Every time I’ve stepped in front of the flashing cameras for a premiere, I’ve wondered if she’d see the pictures. I wanted her to see the pictures. I wanted her to wish she was with me instead of that fuck Tristan.
And now she is.
Taking one last long look at her as she does something to make her eyes look even deeper and darker, I turn to wander the house. If I keep watching her, I’ll bend her over the bathroom counter, tell her to keep her hands on the mirror and her eyes on mine as I bury myself inside her.
Soon.
I make my way through the living room, loving how fucking untouchable we are here. The outside world can’t break into our bubble. Rea and Juan have followed my instructions from the first day impeccably—that we not be bothered with any calls they might receive—in exchange for a healthy tip to express my gratitude.
A table is already set up on the patio, a candle flickering on the white tablecloth between two plates. I can hear Rea in the kitchen, finishing up dinner preparations.
Snapper, shrimp, and lobster with coconut rice and vegetables. Fresh pineapple-coconut ice cream for dessert, all at Greer’s request.
“Mmm . . . that smells delicious.”
I turn to see Greer behind me, her borrowed purple dress hitting high on her thighs, her dark hair wild around her shoulders. Greer undone—that’s the look she has right now, and it’s completely at odds with the smooth sophistication she exuded in New York. Both are sexy, but this is more . . . real.