His Plus One by Kate Aster

Chapter 9

~ HAILEY ~

I hate watching the sun set tonight. I hate it at the same time I love it.

I love the spectacle of it, the way its luminescence seems to dissolve into the ocean. But I hate that it’s a reminder that another perfect vacation day has passed.

I take a lengthy sip of my Chardonnay, easing back into the soft leather chairs at our window table overlooking Elbow Beach just as the last remnant of daylight disappears behind the horizon.

I should be sitting here, in this romantic five-star restaurant with a Navy SEAL, memorizing this moment.

But instead, my mind is still scrolling through all the selfies I just uploaded to Facebook so that they’ll forever pop up on my feed, reminders of what a perfect day really looks like.

Pink sand between my toes. Fish more colors than I’ve ever seen. Turquoise waters, clear and sparkling. And Graydon Adler, refilling my drink anytime I wanted.

I’ll never be able to remember this moment now—sitting in this restaurant enjoying a meal we won—without also thinking of everything that led up to it.

“I can’t believe I had so much fun today,” I breathe out—words he’s heard countless times this evening.

He grins, seeming utterly amused by me. “Go ahead. Pull out your phone. You know you want to see your photos again.”

Nearly gleeful, my shoulders lift. “You don’t mind?” I snatch my phone out of my purse and tap on one of the videos that Graydon transferred to my phone from his GoPro. In it, I’m swimming beneath the waves, with fish passing by my snorkel mask. I look like I’m in one of those travel videos you see on YouTube.

I barely see Graydon in the video—just his hand once or twice enters the frame when he points out another fish or piece of coral to me so I wouldn’t miss it.

That’s the only part I regret—that fifty years from now, if I’m so lucky to still be around, I might look at this video and wonder who I was with when I did this.

My eyes move upward to his gaze on me.

No, I correct in my head. I will never forget who I was with when I did this.

The waiter puts our desserts in front of us.

“What is this we ordered?” Graydon is shaking his head as though he’s wondering how he’ll fit this dessert into his stomach.

I am not having that problem.

“Chocolate rum cake with English toffee and brickle ice cream,” I remind him, my mouth half full already but liking that he’s just a friend, so I don’t have to worry about manners nearly as much. When I’m halfway done before even pausing to take a breath, I grimace. “If this was a real date, I swear I’d show a little more control.”

“Why should you? It’s refreshing to see someone devour their dessert.”

I laugh. “Well, you might want to stop shopping for a date in an athleticwear catalog, then. No offense, but I’m thinking those women can’t suck down a dessert quite the way I can.”

“No offense taken. And actually, my brothers were telling me pretty much the same thing yesterday.”

I look at him in question.

“That I was dating the wrong kind of women,” he clarifies.

I wince. “Ouch. I must have made a bad impression.”

“No—no! Before I started dating you,” he specifies. “I mean, not that I’m dating you. I mean…”

I can’t help laughing. “Are you this smooth on all your fake dates, Graydon?”

He chuckles in response.

“And don’t feel bad. It’s not like I was dating the right kind of guy for me either. As everyone at our lunch table is quick to remind me,” I finish with an eye roll.

He shakes his head. “Yeah, you could have done so much better than him. Why’d you stick it out so long?”

I shrug. “I loved him. That simple. Looking back, I should have done things differently.”

“Like make him pay his share of the rent.”

I groan. It sounds so pathetic when I hear it from other people’s mouths. “Yeah. Like that. But my dad could have left my mom when things got tough. I just always thought that commitment is what goes along with being in love. I just didn’t expect it to be so one-sided.”

He narrows his eyes. “The more you talk about that guy, the more I want to punch his lights out.”

I giggle. “It’s good to know you’ve got my back.”

His eyes narrow on me for a moment. “We should—go out to lunch sometime back home. You know, rather than always eating in the cafeteria.”

I feign shock. “And break with routine? I think half of our table would break out in a rash if we asked them to break with routine.”

“No. Not with them. Just the two of us.”

My hand stills just as I’m scraping my spoon against my plate, trying to claim the final, tiny remnants of my dessert.

Is he asking me on a date?

No, of course not. Just as friends, I’m sure.

“That’d be nice, once in a while. It gets tiresome hearing about Vanessa’s kids and Swami’s latest tech gadgets at lunch every day.”

His smile is warm on me. “Exactly.”

“But we better not do it often or people will think we’re dating,” I joke. “And we only want Stephen to think that.” I giggle at the thought.

Eating another bite and looking down at his diminishing dessert, he shrugs and mumbles after a swallow, “Why couldn’t we date?”

My heart stops. Then it starts again.

He’s kidding, of course. Or is he?

I stare at him for a beat, trying to read the odd look on his face. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, when we get back to the real world. Why not?”

My eyes bug out, stunned. I truly didn’t see this coming. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I just—you and me? I mean… sure.” My tone sounds uncertain, only because I can’t help wondering if it’s the top-shelf Scotch talking rather than him. And if I sound too enthusiastic, that will lead to a damn uncomfortable conversation in the morning when he rethinks the idea.

I do, after all, still have to eat with him at the lunch table. And seeing as it’s my favorite part of my workday, I don’t want to screw that up.

“No, no,” he says quickly. “You don’t have to answer now. I mean, we’re staying in the same suite, so that would put you in an awkward situation if you weren’t interested.”

“Awkward is my middle name, Graydon,” I point out.

His eyes sweep slowly, gently over me, and it feels like a tender, tempting caress—so different from the way he normally looks at me. It heats me to my core.

“There’s nothing awkward about you.” His words are like honey, sweet, slow, and sensual. I don’t know what brand of Scotch he’s drinking, but I’d buy him a bottle every day if it meant I could hear him talk like this all the time.

I fear I’m blushing. “Thanks.”

His warm gaze shifts, eyes suddenly filling with questions. “Why is it so hard to believe I’d think we should go out on a date?”

I could name a few, but I have enough pride to not insult myself. So I just say, “Well, for one, I’ve known you for years and this has never come up.”

“In my defense, you were dating Stephen for most of it.”

“True. But not since you got your newest post at the NSA.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “You’re right, actually. I guess I just never realized how much we have in common.”

My eyes widen, curious. “We have a lot in common?”

“Of course. We’re both type As, right? Very committed to our work. But we also value family, even though I personally could handle a vacation away from mine right now.”

I laugh and he sends me a half-nod as I do, as though I’ve proven a point.

“And see? You think I’m funny. Even maybe… charming, sometimes?” he answers as though it’s a question. “I think I’m funny and charming too.” His eyes sparkle with mischief as he says it.

“You are funny. And charming. And completely annoying other times, especially when it’s Taco Tuesday and they forget your side of sour cream. Which, we also have in common.” I give him an exploding fist bump even though it’s not something I’d normally do in a setting like this. But I’m more used to eating with Lunchroom Graydon rather than this Graydon.

“See? And we both appreciate a good sunset,” he tacks on as though he’s anxious to prove his point, looking out to where the sun has melted into the waves.

I’m about to agree, but I’m struck speechless as he takes my hand. It feels different in my grasp this time—so different from when we are on the ship and his family is near.

This feels real.

This feels right.

And I don’t want to ruin it by pointing out that I’ll probably look a lot different to him when we’re back home—away from this piece of paradise.

I’ll just enjoy the feel of his skin against mine and ponder how I don’t want to wait till we get back to reality to date him.

That would be too practical.

And no fun at all.

I’m here for fun.

I want to enjoy him right now, to grab onto this interest he seems to have for me, regardless of whether it’s caused by the Scotch or the sunset or the fact that we’re a half an ocean away from reality.

I want him.

And I don’t want to wait until we get home.