Sweet Cheeks(39)

She eyes me again. “Okay. Deal.”

I nod and we both pick up our phones, fire off texts, and then she hands hers to me when it’s shut down.

“Are you happy?” She lifts her eyebrows like she’s annoyed but I can tell she likes this idea.

“Very. Now that that’s out of the way, it’s time to explore. Go check out the island and then have some fun here.” Her eyes look panicked from the suggestion. Fuck.

“I figured you’d want to avoid attention. Hang out here so you’d have some peace and quiet and enjoy your anonymity.”

Nice try, Ships, but that won’t fly this weekend.

“I learned years ago that attention is something I can’t control. We’re on a tropical island, Saylor. In the middle of the ocean. There’s sand, sea, and fun to be had. Besides, getting out and about is the best way to make it known we’ve arrived. I assure you on this little island, word travels fast.”

She bites her bottom lip and sits down on the bed. She really did think we were just going to sit here. And even though that’s what I had every intention of doing tonight, there’s no way we’re doing that now. Plans change. And I’m determined to get Saylor back. My old Saylor back.

It’s time to go have some fun and find her.

Right when she’s about to speak, to disagree, to reject, I look at my watch and then back up to those aqua blues of hers.

“You’re wasting time. The clock’s ticking.”





“Isn’t your new flame going to be pissed at you for taking off to a tropical island and leaving her at home?” I avoid glancing over to Hayes although every part of me wants to see his reaction to my question.

I’ve seen the tabloids. The field day they’ve had with him over the past few months. Know his high-profile relationship with Jenna Dixon is over. That supposedly he cheated on her and she’s since gone into hiding to cope. Their fairy-tale relationship ended.

The press has played it all out. The rumors have been printed and reprinted each time with a new spin to them. Speculations over who he cheated with cover the gamut of anyone he comes in contact with. And yet he’s remained silent the whole time.

Does that mean they’ll target me, too?

I shake away the thought. We’re just friends. Friends on a tiny island in the Atlantic Ocean at an all-inclusive resort. There’s no way anyone would even care about me anyway. I’m nobody in the Hollywood circle of need-to-know.

I don’t even remotely resemble the women he’s been associated with, past and present, who have been floated about as possibilities. Besides, the most recent rumors state he’s dating Tessa Gravestone—his gorgeous and completely temperamental (if I believe the tabloids) costar. I’m curious if it’s true, and if so, what does she think about him being here?

He chuckles and yet the sound is lacking any amusement.

“Obviously you haven’t been reading tabloids lately or else you’d know I don’t have a girlfriend, Saylor.” Tone steadfast. Voice without hesitation.

I risk a look to where he sits beside me, back against the seawall, bare feet in the sand, and am met with a lift of his eyebrows. A nonverbal, just ask what you want to ask, expression on his face.

I snort at his response. He flashes a quick grin for some reason, and I just shake my head. “Aren’t you dating, whatshername though?”

“Considering you don’t know what her name is, then no, I’m not dating her.”

“That’s a cop-out answer if I’ve ever heard one.” And I do know her name . . . just don’t want to let him know that I follow his life in skewed tabloid ink.

He shifts to turn and look at me. Eyes intense, head angled to the side, irritation obviously awakened. “Really?” he says dryly. “Considering the coals I’ve been raked over lately regarding Jenna and the accusations made about my character, I’d think saying I don’t have a girlfriend is a logical answer.” His expression is severe, lips tight as he waits for me to respond. There must be something in my countenance that questions him because he shifts and purses his lips. Starts to talk. Then stops. Starts again. “Go ahead and ask the question, Saylor. Ask me or believe them. Your choice.”

And as much as I want to know if he cheated on his girlfriend, as important as it is for me to know he didn’t, I don’t say a word. There’s something about the look in his eyes, the irritation over the fact I might believe the rumors, that stops me from continuing. Because asking means I might be convinced it’s true and therefore don’t trust him.

“Don’t believe everything you see, Saylor.” His tone is wry. A warning. “Even salt looks like sugar at first glance.”